#I've written that joke FOUR TIMES NOW!!!

[buckymorelikefuckme]

cry baby

bucky barnes x fem reader

words: 7.3k

warnings: **18+ ONLY** smut, edging, overstimulation, crying during sex, mentions of flushed cheeks, friends to lovers, misunderstandings, lapslock.

a/n: this is arguably one of my absolute fave fics i've ever written. she is near and dear to my heart :') i've provided the link for ao3 if you prefer to read it there! it's originally posted in two parts but i've combined them here. any and all mistakes are mine. feedback is encouraged & appreciated ♡

“the boys are running late,” natasha informs you when you make your way to the table she’s conquered in the busy cafe. “sam texted a couple minutes ago and said he and bucky got stuck in traffic.”

it’s the second tuesday of the month, which means it’s brunch day. it’s a running tradition that’s stood for the four of you since your college days. the time and place has changed over the years, but everyone does their absolute best to attend every time. these tuesdays are your favorite, naturally.

you plop into an empty chair across from her with a heavy sigh. “good, that means i have time to bitch about how fucking horny i am before they get here.”

she snorts, taking a delicate sip of her latte. “what’s new?” she wonders sarcastically.

“you don’t understand,” you begin, leaning into the table, gripping the edge tightly. “it’s been months, and not like, a few, i mean it’s coming up on a year.”

natasha’s eyebrows shoot up in surprise. “a year? what about that guy you went on a few dates with a while back? didn’t anything happen with him?”

“no,” you grumble, sitting back in your chair and crossing your arms. you huff. “and even if something had happened, i doubt it would have been satisfying. i can probably count on one hand the amount of times sex has been even kinda pleasurable for me.”

“sounds like you’re picking shitty partners.”

you scowl. “i know that, but it’s not my fault. all these stupid men keep promising they’re gonna fuck me ten ways to sunday and not a single one of them can even get me to wednesday.”

natasha laughs. “you poor thing.”

“you’re really not helping me here,” you whine with a pitiful pout on your lips. “you are getting routine dickings, you have sam! i am not so lucky here.” you notice her attention flicks to somewhere behind you, but you’re not finished with your rant. “nat, i’m serious. all of my sex encounters are the equivalent of asking someone to scratch my back and then they scratch literally anywhere but the spot that itches. i want to be fucked so good that i cry, just—completely reduced to tears. is that too much to ask?”

nat is hiding her smile behind her hand, amusement painted across her sharp features. someone clears their throat behind you and you pinch the bridge of your nose. sam and bucky occupy the empty seats, sam next to natasha and bucky next to you. they’re both sporting wide grins, looking far too pleased about stumbling into this conversation.

sam opens his mouth, no doubt to make a smartass comment, but you cut him off before he can get a good inhale in.

“not a fucking word,” you grouse with a finger pointed in his direction.

he presses a hand to his chest, expression offended. “i would never make a joke about your truly tragic excuse of a sex life.”

bucky snickers quietly, but turns into a cough at your glare.

“i’ll murder you,” you promise.

“leave her alone, boys,” natasha says, rolling her eyes, though she’s visibly biting back her own laughter.

you huff, digging your wallet out of your purse. “i hate all of you,” you announce before getting up and going to stand in line to order.

bucky follows a moment later, coming to stand at your side and throwing an arm around your shoulders.

“that bad, huh?” he asks.

you don’t have to look at his face to know he’s probably smirking right now.

“fuck off,” you retort, not bothering to push his arm away since you know he’d only put it right back.

“aw, come on, don’t be like that,” he jests, “you know we just like to poke a little fun.”

you roll your eyes, throwing him an exasperated look. “yeah, but that was something only nat was supposed to hear. i hate talking about sex with you and sam because you two wouldn’t understand.”

“that’s not true,” bucky insists, which makes you roll your eyes again. “it’s not!”

“first of all, sam’s got natasha, so we both know they’re more than satisfied.” bucky tilts his head in acquiescence. “and you don’t have to worry about if you’re gonna have an orgasm when you hook up with somebody. men have it so easy.”

it’s probably not the best thing to talk about in line of a busy cafe (especially since you haven’t decided between a blueberry muffin or the ham and cheese croissant, and there’s only one person ahead of you now and you’d really rather not be discussing your lack of sex in front of an innocent barista) but it sort of feels good to get this off your chest, even if it’s to bucky.

“okay, definitely not true,” he replies with a frown. “i’m not always guaranteed an orgasm.”

you give him a skeptical glance. “i find that hard to believe.”

this time, it’s bucky who rolls his eyes. “whatever, whether or not i come when i have sex with someone isn’t what i was gonna talk about when i came over here.”

the person in front of you finishes their order and then you’re stepping up for your turn.

“hi, what can i get you today?” the young barista asks with a smile.

“a large mocha iced coffee with sweet cream and a blueberry muffin, please.” you pause, contemplating, then add, “and a ham and cheese croissant.”

if you can’t get fucked within an inch of your life then food will become your lover, you reason.

“just a black coffee for me, please,” bucky tells the girl, taking his wallet out of his back pocket and handing over his card to pay before you can stop him.

“i could’ve paid for mine,” you mumble.

“you also could just say thank you,” he replies with a short laugh as he ushers you to the side to wait for your order.

you pinch his hip, pouting. “thank you.”

“why does your gratitude come with violence?” he asks, rubbing the sore spot.

“you know how i am when people do nice things for me.”

“you should be used to it by now,” he points out.

“well, i’m not,” you huff. “anyway, what did you come over here to talk about then?”

bucky reaches up to scratch the back of his neck, uncharacteristically shy all the sudden. “uh, well. i dunno, i just thought… you know, since you’re not—i mean, not that you couldn’t be, just—you haven’t been, so maybe… fuck.”

“spit it out,” you say with a giggle, wondering what in the world’s got him so tongue-tied.

“why don’t you let me?” he blurts, averting his gaze immediately after.

you tilt your head in confusion. “let you what?”

he sighs heavily, working his jaw in frustration. “you know…” he begins, digging his thumbnail into a knick on the countertop in front of you. “let me fuck you until you cry.”

“what?”

just then, your order is called. bucky quickly grabs it and turns to make his way back to the table, but you grab his arm to stop him.

“i don’t think so, you come back here right now and explain yourself,” you demand.

his eyes lift heavenward. “it’s just an idea, okay?”

“bucky, you’re talking about crossing a huge line. you can’t just throw that out all willy nilly!”

“i know,” he replies earnestly. “and it’s not—“ he grimaces at the phrasing, “willy nilly. you’re one of my best friends. i wouldn’t jeopardize that for anything, and i wouldn’t offer this if i thought that it could. this is something that’s obviously affecting you negatively in your life and i’m willing to help. i trust you, and i’m pretty sure you trust me, yeah?”

“of course i trust you,” you say, frowning.

he shrugs. “so, then it’s just… a friend helping another friend.”

“you make it sound so simple,” you muse in wonder.

“think about it?” he implores.

you swallow roughly, biting the inside of your cheek. “fine. i’ll think about it.”

he nods and walks back over to the table where sam and natasha are waiting. you hesitate for only a split second before following.

needless to say, you’re distracted for the rest of brunch.

***

you: what even makes you think you could fuck me until i cry anyway?

it’s been nearly a week, and as much as you hate to admit it, you’re actually considering taking bucky’s offer. it’s all you can think about since he brought it up. you can’t lie, you’ve always thought bucky was attractive, but ever since you were gently but firmly placed in the friend category back in university, you never allowed yourself to think of there ever being more between the two of you. he’s a wonderful friend to have and you’d have been an idiot to pass it up. bucky is kind and generous and just enough of an asshole to keep things interesting without it being a problem.

but this… this has left you reeling. why would he make such an offer after only ever keeping things strictly friendly and platonic in your relationship? and more importantly, where does he get the confidence to think he could follow through?

bucky: experience?

you make a face at your phone, furiously typing your reply.

you: ew. do you realize how douchey that sounds?

bucky: well, it’s not douchey if it’s true.

you: says you

bucky: and a few other people :)

bucky: you’d know it too if you’d let me fuck you

you exhale harshly through your nose, tapping your foot on the floor anxiously, carefully thinking of what you should say next.

you: it’s apparently a tall request, and thus far, nobody’s been able to deliver. you can understand my skepticism…

bucky: if i don’t leave you shivering and twitching with aftershocks of pleasure, in a mess of sweat and come, and tears stained on your cheeks, then i will have failed you.

your thighs squeeze together at the mental image that brings you. jesus christ, if he’s half as good at fucking as he is dirty talking then he just might do as he’s promising.

bucky: so? what do you say? wanna give it a try?

biting your lip, you give yourself a moment to weigh the pros and cons in your mind one last time.

it doesn’t take you very long to make your decision.

you: okay. we’ll try.

***

it’s a slightly overcast sunday when bucky comes over with the direct intention to fuck you. it should be weird, but strangely, all you feel is anticipation. maybe it’s because you know him so well and know that, no matter what, he’d take care of you.

(or, maybe it’s because those repressed college-aged feelings are doing their best to resurface, even though you steadfastly continue to ignore them.)

you’d taken a thorough shower earlier to ease the little bit of nerves you had when you’d woken up. cleaning up the small mess your apartment gathered over the last couple weeks helped, as well, and soon you found yourself standing in front of your lingerie drawer with your lips pursed.

you weren’t sure if you should even bother with it, but it felt you wouldn’t be putting in any effort into this encounter if you didn’t at least pick out nice underwear. so, with a pleased nod, you settle on some simple black lace panties and a matching bralette. not too much, but enough to satisfy yourself, and hopefully bucky. you pick out a simple sundress to put on over it, since you won’t be wearing much of anything once bucky gets here. that thought has you flushing, but you ignore it to put on some makeup, just to freshen up your face.

by the time he knocks on your door, you’ve already finished a glass of wine and are pouring yourself a second.

he smiles when open the door, a bit boyishly, greeting you with a quiet, “hi.”

“hi,” you return, just as soft. you open the door wider. “come in.”

he walks passed you, stopping to toe his shoes off and hang his jacket on one of the hooks.

“do you want a glass of wine?” you ask as you head to the kitchen to retrieve your own from the counter.

bucky follows, stopping in the entryway with his hands in his pockets. “no, thank you.”

you nod, taking a sip from your glass, trying to figure out what to say. the air feels a little awkward and you’re not sure how to fix it.

“nervous?” he wonders curiously.

you shake your head. “not really.”

he quirks a brow. “then what’s wrong?”

“i don’t know,” you murmur. “i guess i’m just worried we’re making a mistake.”

he hums. you take a larger sip of your wine.

with cautious steps, he comes closer to you. “what if i promise that things won’t be weird after?”

“you can’t really promise that, though.”

“sure i can,” he says, smiling. “it’s me and you. we’ve been friends for so long. plenty of people have sex and stay friends after.”

you’re not just ‘people’ to me, you think.

you sigh, frustrated with yourself. you can’t deny how badly you want this. it’s all you’ve been able to think about since that day in the cafe. but the thought of losing bucky is heartbreaking, and you don’t want your stupid horniness to be the reason that you ruin a friendship, even if he was the one to offer sex.

“why don’t we go make out on the couch for a little while first?” he suggests after a moment’s pause.

you snort, in spite of your thoughts. “like a couple of teenagers?”

his eyes crinkle on the sides when he grins. “yeah. we’ll just see how we feel about that, and if it leads to more, then…” he trails off, shrugging.

“that’s not a bad idea,” you concede.

“great! finish your wine.”

you laugh and do as you’re told, downing the little remaining wine in one go, sitting the glass down on the counter resolutely as you swallow.

“let’s do this,” you say, determined.

bucky huffs a laugh, grabbing your wrist and tugging you behind him as he makes his way to the couch. he settles slightly facing you as you tuck your legs under you beside him.

“do you wanna talk, or do you want to jump straight into it?”

“if we talk anymore i’m gonna change my mind. just kiss me already, bucky.”

“yes ma’am,” he sasses before doing exactly that.

he cups your cheek with one hand as the other is placed on your knee. he guides your face to his and kisses you chastely. you’re not sure where to put your hands at first, but you tell yourself to quit being a goober about it and place them on either side of his neck, your thumbs brushing under his jaw.

it’s an okay kiss, you have to admit, but it’s not really doing anything for you yet. he has soft lips, softer than you thought they’d be. you’re beginning to wonder if maybe this confirms you shouldn’t go any further when he tilts his head, and… hm.

he parts his lips, taking your bottom one between his, kissing it, then nipping it. you wouldn’t say the sound you make is a gasp, necessarily, but it’s close. his tongue lightly caresses the seam of your mouth and you don’t even think before you open up for him, letting his tongue sweep in, flicking against yours. you hum, scooting a tiny bit closer to him, chasing the feeling. his kisses turn insistent then, teeth biting at your bottom lip and tugging, soothing the ache with his tongue. he kisses you like a man quenching his thirst, like you’re the best goddamn thing he’s ever tasted, and it’s leaving you dizzy. you sway more into his space and he pulls away from your mouth.

“c’mere,” he whispers, gripping behind one of your knees to drag it over his hips so you’re straddling him. “much better.”

you don’t have a chance to process anything about the moment, his mouth back on yours in a blink. your fingers wind themselves into his hair, getting a good grip on it as you lick into his mouth. he lets out a soft noise at that and you try your damnedest to pry it out of him again, pressing your chest to his so there’s not even a sliver of space left between you.

his hands travel, down the sides of your torso to your thighs, back up to your hips where he holds on tight. it doesn’t take long after that before you find yourself grinding into him. you both moan at the same time, breaking the kiss to pant for breath.

you swallow roughly. “okay,” you murmur, “i think it’s safe to say this could work.”

bucky laughs quietly. “yeah? wanna move to your bed then?”

your squeeze your thighs around him, shifting minutely on his lap and feeling the beginnings of his erection beneath you. “yes,” you breathe.

quickly, you rise from your position and step back, allowing bucky to stand, then grab his hand and lead him to your bedroom. once you’re standing beside your bed, you turn to face him. he meets your halfway, pulling you into another, filthier kiss. you reach for his belt buckle, unfastening it and sliding it through the loops, tossing it to your floor. next are the button and zip of his jeans, shoved down his legs until he steps out of them and kicks them and his socks aside. he obediently lifts his arms when you slide your hands under his shirt and begin pushing it up, breaking the kiss to nearly yank it off, making bucky huff in amusement. once it’s tossed with the rest of his clothes, bucky grabs fistfuls of your dress and pulls you into him.

“my turn,” he says against your lips.

carefully, bucky helps you out of your dress, eyes raking over every bit of new skin shown to him. he bites his lip when he sees your lacy underthings.

“you got all dolled up for me?” he asks.

shifting under his stare, you nod. “wanted to look nice,” you admit.

he hums. “beautiful.”

he kisses you again, a little softer than before, but no less passionate. the urgency returns as he backs you up until your thighs hit the mattress. gently, he guides you onto your back, never breaking the kiss as he follows you down and settles over you.

you soon find yourself in need of air and pull away with a gasp. bucky is undeterred and instead presses his kisses down your jaw, to your neck where he decides to bite and suck until he’s left a mark you’ll have to reprimand him for later. he licks his way up to your ear, sucking the lobe into his mouth, drawing a whine out of you.

“bucky,” you whisper, hands gripping his sides as you squirm below him.

“hm?”

you close your eyes tightly when he makes his way back down to your collarbones.

“please,” you whimper.

“please what, sweetheart?” he asks, pushing himself up to look you in the eye.

“t-touch me,” you beg, cheeks flushing.

his lips quirk into a smile. “i am touching you.”

“bucky,” you whine.

“where do you want me to touch you, hm?” he wonders. one of his hands trails across your shoulder and down the center of your chest. “here? or… here?”

when his fingers glide, barely there, over your pebbled nipples, you push into the touch eagerly.

“or…” he continues, his feather light touch making a path down your stomach. your breath quickens in anticipation. “here?” he murmurs as his fingertips stop on your pantyline.

“yes, there, anywhere,” you agree hastily, “just —please. please, bucky, don’t tease me.”

he kisses you again, deep, full of promise. “you beg so prettily for me.”

he rearranges your positions until he’s between your spread thighs, sweeping his hands across the inside of them. he nods to your panties.

“may i?”

“yes, please,” you reply, lifting your hips to help him take them off.

he doesn’t give you a chance to close your legs in shyness, firmly grasping your knees in each of his hands and spreading them once again. the way he’s looking at you makes you feel unbelievably desirable, has excitement crawling up your spine.

“don’t forget,” you remind him, making his eyes flick up to yours in question, “you better make me cry.”

a slow, dangerous smile graces his lips. your stomach swoops eagerly.

~

a whine, high pitched and drawn out, escapes your lips. after you unwittingly challenged him, bucky took it upon himself to torture you—with sex. so far, he’s only used his fingers on you, in you, thrusting them steadily but never enough to bring you to climax. he’s taking his time and being a smug prick about it. you go to complain, again, hoping if you beg enough he’ll let you come, but before you can do more than open your mouth he’s quickening his pace.

“oh!” you gasp, clutching the sheets in your hands.

bucky slides his hand down your thigh, bringing his thumb inward to swipe around where his other fingers are buried inside you to gather your wetness and using it to rub circles on your clit. your back arches, head thrown back against your pillows as you feel your orgasm build. it’s not tears, but damn, it feels good enough.

just as you start to clench around his fingers, legs spasming, he stops.

your eyes open in a hurry, brows furrowing in confusion. “no, please, don’t stop,” you plead.

bucky smiles. “i gotta get the right build up.”

you groan in frustration. he laughs quietly and lets the inferno burning within you simmer down to embers, then starts inching his way down until he’s lying on his stomach, mouth poised above your pussy. the feel of his warm breath makes you shiver, and with no warning whatsoever, he leans in and sucks your clit into his mouth.

“fuckin’—oh my— bucky!”

you’re pretty sure you black out for the next several minutes, the only thing you’re aware of is the thudding of your heartbeat in your ears and the feel of bucky’s mouth on you. you’re lost in a mindless haze of pleasure, unable to think or feel anything else. you feel your orgasm cresting for the second time, and just as before, bucky pulls away before you can succumb to it.

“why,” you hiccup on a moan, wanting nothing more than to just come already, but he’s not letting you.

he shushes you, softly kisses your knee. sitting up to take his underwear off, bucky keeps his eyes on you, expression hungry.

“gonna take care of you, sweetheart,” he promises. “just a bit more. you’re being so good for me, yeah?”

“please,” you whimper, feeling completely pathetic.

he makes quick work of putting a condom on and then settles between your thighs. you sigh in relief when he wastes no time and pushes in, being careful not to go too fast. once he’s fully inside you, he pauses, wanting to give you time to adjust, but you’re back to whining.

“bucky, please, please just—fuck me,” you beg, squirming beneath him.

he takes mercy on you, finally, and sets a hard pace. your hands fly up to push against the headboard, moaning and gasping from his harsh thrusts, loving the stretch of him inside you. his thumb is back on your clit and you cry out, clenching hard around him, but his thrusts don’t falter. all too soon, you can feel yourself getting close. you hear your own voice chanting please, please, please, mixed in with bucky’s grunts and the sound of him fucking you.

you whimper, eyes squeezed shut as your climax hits the point of no return, crashing over you in waves. you think you might scream, but it’s hard to pay attention to anything other than the overwhelming pleasure coursing through you. part of you thinks this’ll be it, bucky will come now and then you’ll have had one of the best orgasms of your life and he’ll be on his merry way home. but no, that’s not what happens.

instead, bucky keeps thrusting relentlessly into you, dragging out your pleasure to the point of oversensitivity.

“s’too much,” you breathe, gasping for air.

bucky shakes his head, face contorted in concentration. “one more,” he tells you, voice gruff and deep.

unbelievably, you feel tears beginning to gather in the corners of your eyes. bucky’s still rubbing your clit, still keeping a steady rhythm of his hips, and fuck, he’s so beautiful. you watch him fucking you, wondering how the fuck you got to this moment, how you got lucky enough to bear witness to the sight of bucky fucking, let alone be the one he fucks. his body is ridiculous, looking like it’s carved from marble. you know how much strength it holds, as well, know that if he really wanted to, he could probably fuck you against a wall.

it’s with that thought, with the added bonus of the way bucky touches you, looks at you, like you’re something treasured and gorgeous, giving you such intense pleasure, that the tears threatening to spill over finally fall from your lashes.

bucky notices, because of course he does, and he thrusts into you just a little faster, a little harder, and your body seizes up and then you’re falling into another orgasm. it spreads through your veins, slow like honey, making sure this one settles deep into your bones. bucky groans as he, too, reaches climax, hips twitching into you in aftershocks until he stops moving altogether.

you both pant for breath, sweat gathered in every crevice on your bodies. you think you won’t be able to move for the rest of the weekend.

“need to pull out,” bucky says softly, breaking the moment.

you nod and he carefully pulls his hips back, grunting. you poorly suppress a whimper and close your legs, already hating the empty feeling.

“well,” he starts, plopping himself on his back next to you, “i think i deserve some kind of reward.”

when you turn to face him with an exasperated look, he’s got his arms crossed behind his head, a smug smile across his lips.

“how about i don’t kick you in the balls? how’s that for a reward?”

“i literally just did the impossible.”

“what, made me come twice? i can do that all on my own. you’re not special,” you retort with a huff.

he scoffs. “i fucked you so good you cried.”

“you can’t prove it,” you say to the ceiling.

“keep up this attitude and i won’t do it again,” he threatens, poking you in your side.

you wiggle away from the ticklish touch while trying to tamp down on the hope bubbling in your chest.

“oh, we’re doing this again, are we?” you say as casually as possible.

he rolls his eyes. “of course we are. now,” he sits up in your bed, stretching his arms as he stands and picks up his underwear, “i’m starving. wanna order takeout?”

well, you guess if you’d been worried about any kind of awkwardness before, you shouldn’t have. this is bucky, your best friend. he’d never let things change between you.

***

except, things kinda change between the two of you.

it’s not very noticeable at first, changes so subtle you miss them, until one day he showed up at your apartment and greeted you with a kiss. you stood frozen in your doorway as he rambled about how stressful his day had been as he kicked his shoes off. it was only when you heard him calling out from the kitchen that he was gonna eat your leftovers that you snapped out of it, yelling back that you’d kick his ass if he even touched your dumplings.

another day, he facetimes you and asks if you want to go to see that new movie you’ve been talking about.

“oh,” you’d said. “are nat and sam coming, too?”

he’d given you a funny look, replied, “no, i thought it would just be us two.”

“oh,” you said again. “okay.”

so you’d gone to the movies, let him buy you buttery popcorn and peanut m&m’s and a soda bigger than your head. he shared with you, despite your protests, and halfway through the film you felt his hand settle on your thigh. you blinked and stared at it for a beat, turning to him in question. he only smiled at you briefly before focusing back on the movie.

in between all of this, you continued calling him over for sex. honestly, how could you not? as much as you didn’t want to admit it to him, he was the best you’ve ever had. and if he’s so willing, why shouldn’t you take advantage while you can?

a week ago, though, you’d texted him and asked him to come over, replying to his question of what time and then started getting ready. you’d purchased a new piece of lingerie, a periwinkle babydoll nightie, that left very little to the imagination. it had a matching pair of panties and felt soft and luxurious on your skin. you’d taken extra time to do your hair and makeup, wanting to look like sex on legs, and you’re pretty sure you succeeded.

but when he got there and you answered the door in your sexy outfit, he didn’t see it right away. in one hand he held his phone, typing something on it, and in the other hand he held a grocery bag that you eyed curiously.

“i brought stuff to make spaghetti—“

when he did finally look up, his eyes widened and traveled the length of your body several times. you bit your lip, trying and failing to hold back your smile.

“how about we skip dinner?” you’d said, fisting his nice button-up shirt and dragging him inside your apartment. you grabbed the grocery bag from his hand and sat it on the floor, absently noting he was wearing his date jeans.

whoops, you’d thought, hope i didn’t pull him away from someone important.

you hadn’t let yourself dwell on it, standing up on your tippy toes and kissing him, wrapping your arms around his shoulders. he’d returned the kiss, licking into your mouth, drawing your tongue out so he could suck on it and made you moan embarrassingly loud.

“wait,” he’d murmured, “we should eat first.”

“or, you could eat me,” you’d retorted with a giggle.

he groaned like it pained him to say no, gripped your hips hard and put a tiny bit of distance between you. the look in his eyes had made you want to find the nearest flat surface and bend over.

“why don’t you be a good girl for me, hm? let me cook dinner for us and after we eat i’ll fuck you however you want me to. okay, sweetheart?”

you whined, but ultimately agreed, knowing he’d make it worth it.

and then there’s tonight, where he came over unannounced, armed with groceries again and promising to cook you the best meal you’ve ever had. to say you were confused would be an understatement, but you also didn’t want to look a gift horse in the mouth.

it’s just… well, bucky’s not really acting like a friend with benefits. sure, you hung out alone with him all the time before, but he never once cooked you dinner, and he certainly never helped wash dishes after. you guess the hello kisses could be explained away as part of the new aspect of your relationship, but something about that didn’t sit quite right with you.

after a truly delicious dinner, you find yourself on the couch with bucky as he scrolls through netflix to find a movie to put on.

“what do you want to watch?” he asks.

“mm,” you mumble, shifting closer to start kissing his neck, “don’t care.”

as he narrows down his decision and finally picks one, you make your way up to his jaw, sucking a small mark into the skin there.

“baby,” he protests softly, “let’s just watch the movie, yeah?”

you pull back, confused. first at the pet name, then at his words. he’s never denied you before, which isn’t to say that he can’t, it’s just that he’s always seemed on board. and, you know, you thought that was kind of the whole point of this thing.

“okay,” you reply after a moment.

he gives you a smile and a sweet kiss, wrapping an arm around you and pulling you into his side to cuddle. you can’t help but frown, feeling like you’re missing something, but not knowing what it could be.

it doesn’t take long for drowsiness to creep up on you. before he showed up, you had planned on probably ordering out for dinner and going to bed early since you’d had a pretty rough day. in fact, you remember texting bucky about it just that afternoon. your eyelids get heavier and heavier, finding it harder to keep them open as the seconds pass. your head droops and in the next blink, you’ve fallen asleep.

you’re not sure how much time has passed when bucky wakes you, but you groan, pouting and burrowing into his shoulder more.

he huffs a laugh. “c’mon, sweetheart, let’s get you to bed.”

“don’ wanna move,” you mumble tiredly.

“i’ll carry you,” he offers. “up you go, baby.”

you half heartedly argue about being jostled, but let him carry you to your bed where he carefully places you, helping you out of your sweatpants and pulling your blankets up around you. you sigh in content, feeling yourself already drifting back into sleep. you hear bucky shuffling, but think nothing of it until the bed dips beside you, then feel his warm body slide in underneath the covers and press in close.

“goodnight, darlin’,” he murmurs.

you’d ask him what in the word he’s doing, but sleep is just far too enticing to ignore. you fall into slumber with bucky’s warmth along your back, his arm draped over you.

the next morning, you wake to the feeling of his fingers playing with the tiny bow on the front of your panties and his lips placing gentle kisses on your shoulder. you hum, eyes still closed, in the back of your mind thinking this is a nice way to wake up. at the sound of you, his touches get firmer, more insistent.

“good morning,” he rasps, breath tickling your ear.

you don’t really get a chance to reply. he dips his fingers into your panties, making you inhale sharply, moaning as you buck into his hand. he fingers you for a while, kissing along the column of your throat, biting and sucking marks into the skin there. when you’re begging him for more, he relents, eases your panties off and lifts your leg to slide in from behind. the angle is so nice it has you gasping.

you clutch the sheets weakly, burying your face in your pillow and muffle your whines and moans. bucky keeps a slow, lazy rhythm, acting as if he’s got all the time in the world to draw this out. it’s good, so good, and you can’t hold back your whimper when he kicks up the pace a little, tells you to touch yourself. you come seconds before he does, shuddering through it and humming happily.

as you both lie there and catch your breath, awareness trickles into your mind. you swallow roughly, staring blankly at the wall as you realize your feelings have grown far too much for this to be only casual anymore.

bucky kisses your shoulder again. “i’m gonna go make breakfast, okay? i’ll call you when it’s ready.”

“okay,” you whisper, blinking rapidly to keep tears from forming.

hearing bucky bustle around your kitchen makes your heart clench with want; want for something you can’t have.

***

bucky: dinner tonight?

you bite the inside of your cheek as you stare at the text. you know you need to cut things off with him before you get anymore hurt than you already are. it’s not fair to either of you if you continue with this arrangement when you’ve caught real feelings for him. you have to tell him, and soon. with that thought in mind, you type out a reply.

you: sure. what time?

bucky: reservations are at 8pm, i’ll pick you up by 7:45.

reservations? where was he taking you? you get another text before you can ask.

bucky: dress nice ;)

with a sigh, you text back an affirmative and try to start mentally preparing yourself for the conversation you dreaded having. you could only hope and pray that he agrees to still be your friend after.

by the time there’s a knock on your door that night, you’ve worked yourself up into an anxious mess. you open the door to see bucky standing there with a single peach colored rose and a bashful grin.

“hi,” he greets, leaning in to kiss you on your cheek. “this is for you.”

he hands you the rose and you feel your heart crack in your chest. you muster a small smile.

“thank you. let me go put this in a vase and we can head out.”

he nods and waits patiently at the door. as you fill a vase with a little water, you take a deep breath, giving yourself a mental pep talk.

this was going to suck.

the drive to the restaurant doesn’t take too long, and when you see where he’s taken you, your eyebrows shoot up. this is one of the nicer places in the city, definitely not on the affordable side. he helps you out of the car, leading you inside with his hand on the small of your back. you’re led to a small booth in a far corner with overhead lighting that feels too intimate. maybe you’d have to wait until you left to tell him…

conversation is light, a bit surface level, and you get the feeling that bucky is a little nervous. you wonder if maybe he’s gonna let you down gently first, hoping that he doesn’t, because you’d rather not cry in such a fancy restaurant.

after the waiter takes your drink orders, bucky sighs.

“okay, let me just… get this off my chest.”

oh fuck, here it goes.

“i know i’ve never really come across at the most romantic guy, especially since i’ve never felt the need to be.” he runs a nervous hand through his hair. “you’ve always been so important to me, and this last month has been so, so wonderful.”

“bucky…” you trail off, attempting to somehow stop him, but he powers through.

“i just—i never thought i’d find somebody, you know?” he says, earnest, gaze locked on yours. another crack in your heart. “especially not somebody who was my friend first, that i already had a solid foundation with. the attraction had always been there, but the friendship meant more to me, and finally allowing that to blossom into this amazing, new, fun relationship has got to be the best decision i’ve ever made.”

did he start dating someone and not tell you? oh god, has he been sleeping with someone else? at the same time? your stomach turns, eyes burning, hating yourself more and more as he speaks.

“so, i guess what i’m trying to say is,” he says, rolling his eyes at himself and smiling, “happy one month anniversary, sweetheart.”

you blink, feeling a tear slip down your cheek. “what?” you croak, beyond confused.

bucky, however, looks concerned. “baby, why are you crying?”

“i…” you blink some more, eyes flitting around the room as if you’ll get some kind of clarity that way to the situation currently happening. “what?” you repeat.

“did i come on too strong?” he asks, looking embarrassed now. “i wasn’t sure if you’d even want to celebrate, but i’ve just been so happy with you—i’m sorry, baby, i should’ve asked.”

“bucky, what are you talking about?” you finally manage, unable to keep the bewilderment out of your tone. “anniversary?”

bucky frowns. “i didn’t get the date wrong, did i?”

“no, i—this isn’t—i’m not talking about—ugh, i mean, when did we even start having an anniversary to celebrate?”

bucky’s face goes blank, sitting back in his chair. your heart is pounding wildly in your chest, so fucking confused, so fucking hopeful.

“we… we’re dating,” he says, slow, unsure. “aren’t we?”

“since when?” you ask probably too loudly, cheeks flushing.

he opens and closes his mouth a couple times. “when i asked you out?”

“bucky, oh my god, you’re gonna have to be more specific before i lose my goddamn mind. when did you ask me out?”

he huffs, his own cheeks flushing. “at the cafe! a month ago, at brunch with natasha and sam.”

your eyes widen in disbelief. “when you asked if you could fuck me until i cried?” you hiss, ignoring the scandalized look on the waiter’s face as he brings your drinks over.

smiling apologetically, you thank him and wait until he’s gone before sending a glare bucky’s way.

“that’s not how you ask a person out,” you seethe.

“i asked if you wanted to give this a try and you said yes!” he replies desperately. “i’ve taken you on dates!”

you pinch the bridge of your nose, thinking of all the times you thought he was being too romantic, more-than-friends type of behavior. you’re a fucking idiot, but god, so was he.

“at no point did you say anything even remotely close about us starting a relationship. i thought we were just fucking, bucky, i didn’t realize it was more than that!”

“you don’t—“ he starts, then stops, looking down at the plate in front of him. “you don’t want to be with me?”

“i didn’t know it was an option,” you say carefully.

“well, it is.” he meets your gaze, cautious. “i just spilled my guts to you. you know how i feel now. how do you feel? about me?”

you lick your lips. “bucky, i… i was planning to end things with you tonight.” his expression drops, even though he tries to mask it, so you’re quick to explain. “not because i don’t like you, but because i do like you and i thought you wouldn’t want anything more than just sex with me.”

“it’s never been and never could have been just sex with you,” he replies, quiet and relieved. he reaches across the table to take your hand in his. “i meant it when i said you’re the best decision i’ve ever made. i want this—the sex, the dinners, dates, all the gross and sappy shit i never wanted before… i want it all with you, if you’ll have me.”

you can’t fight the smile spreading across your lips. “of course i’ll have you, bucky.”

he smiles in return, a laugh bubbling out of him, which makes you giggle, until you’re both laughing so hard and loud that patrons from other tables are sending dirty looks your way, which only makes you laugh more.

“do you wanna get out of here?” you ask, laughter dying down. “there’s pizza and sex calling our names, i think.”

bucky moans dramatically. “i knew i liked you for a reason.”

he leaves money on the table and then the two of you quickly make your way through the restaurant, giggling and holding hands the whole way, even in the car.

[hard-core-super-star]

for your love, i'll do whatever you want... [K.Bishop]

pairing: alpha!kate bishop x omega!reader

summary: omega heats are incredibly unbearable, thankfully kate knows just what to do to make you feel better.

warnings: shameless smut -> minors, you're not allowed [omegaverse au {written by someone who has very minimal understanding of the logistics and makes everything up on the spot}; omega in heat = needy alpha kate; fingering {R receiving}; so much praise; technically pet play but only if you squint {kate does call R puppy more than few times}; finger-sucking {i couldn't resist}]

wordcount: 1.9k

a/n: i have no explanation for this, i just...think she's neat. i read literally one omegaverse au fic and now i have brainrot. clearly, the only solution was to pass it on to all of you. i've never written anything like this before so uh...be warned, i guess. once again, this is about the closest i'll get to doing kinktober but this variant of kate [along with vampire!kate] might be sticking around, we'll see. also, believe it or not i did some world-building but tried not to include too much and just focused on the filth. you're welcome, i guess?

* * * * * * *

The sound of the bedroom door opening makes your tired eyes snap open. You blink the drowsiness away long enough to recognize Kate’s frame as she slips into the room. Her steps are slow, almost bordering on hesitant, but the mere sound of her boots on the floor makes your heart race.

The archer had been gone for what felt like months. In reality, she was only gone for four days. Not even a full week had passed without her and yet you’ve been desperate for her return since the moment she walked out the door. 

You assumed it was only due to the strong bond, and slight dependence, that had started to form since the brunette brought you to her apartment a few months ago. She’d rescued you from a cruel living situation and shown you kindness you never even thought was possible.

Especially from such a dominant alpha. 

But Kate’s nothing like all the alpha’s you’re used to. She’s all soft chuckles, understanding looks, and feather-light touches. The literal definition of care lies in the depths of her pale blue eyes. 

It’s truly no surprise, then, that you fell for her instantly. 

And it’s even less of a surprise that being without her triggered an avalanche of feelings that resulted in your heat. A heat you were forced to endure on your own with no gentle touches or whispered praise.

Until now.

“y/n.” She makes an effort to keep her voice quiet despite her obvious concern. “How’re you holding up?”

The answer to that is crystal clear considering you’ve made no attempt at getting up and rushing toward her like you usually do. You want nothing more than that but your entire body aches in ways you’re not used to feeling, at least not on this scale. Your skin burns with pure warmth yet your body shakes as if you’ve spent the past few hours out in the cold.

You’re barely able to lift your head, the faintest of whimpers slipping out. Your lack of a response is all she needs to approach you and the comfortable nest you’ve made in the corner of her bedroom.

Your nose picks up on her scent immediately and the lower part of your body wastes even less time in reacting. You’d be embarrassed if you weren’t so desperate to feel her touch on every part of your overheated skin.

“Uh oh, I know what that look means,” she jokes as she sits in front of you. 

Your grumble of discontent is wiped away the second she reaches for you. She easily picks you up, letting out a slightly playful grunt, before maneuvering you onto her lap.

“Kate,” you mumble.

“I know, sweetheart, I’m right here.” 

Her hand gently grasps the back of your head, guiding you forward until you’re able to seek refuge from the overwhelming sensations rushing through your entire being. Her scent drives your body wild but it’s also the only thing capable of calming you down so you bury your face into her neck without hesitation.

“Baby…” Her tone makes you shiver and you subconsciously shift closer to her. “I’d like to hear your voice.”

You know what her request actually is, you’ve heard it countless times since she started the hard work of putting your broken pieces back together. Your hands grasp the front of her shirt and you fidget with the fabric until you find the words you’re searching for. 

“I missed you.”

You don’t see the smile that graces her lips but you hear the slow exhale of relief she lets out. The fact that you’re speaking to her is a good sign, one that reassures her enough to finally start touching you.

“I missed you too,” she admits as her hands begin to wander. “I thought about you every day I was gone.”

She keeps one arm wrapped securely around your waist but lets her free hand caress you in all the right ways designed to soothe you while simultaneously driving you insane with need. Just because she’s the kindest alpha you’ve ever met doesn’t mean she’s not a massive tease when she wants to be.

“Katie,” you practically whine. 

Your reaction brings a chuckle out of the brunette that only serves to intensify the ache between your legs. You’re both acutely aware of the amount of slick that’s dripping down your thighs by now but while you’re on the edge of desperation, Kate’s having the time of her life. 

She always loves knowing how much you need her, how much you crave her, and today is no exception. 

“Yes, sweetheart?” The pads of her fingers ghost along your chest, barely grazing against the side of your breasts. “Do you need something, pup?”

Hearing that one word out of her lips shouldn’t be as attractive as it is. Although, that could easily be said about any and every single thing Kate does. 

All you can do for a few seconds is whimper and press yourself closer to her, your hips shifting every which way in search of some friction. Friction she easily denies by shifting her lower half away from you which means you’re forced to pull yourself together and ask for what you want.

“Mhm, need you.”

Kate rewards your obedience by finally letting her fingers play with your hardened nipples. Her touch is soft even while she tugs on them just enough to draw out another needy little sound from you. “You have no idea how adorable you sound right now. You’re just a pretty omega in need of her alpha, aren’t you, baby?”

You open your mouth to answer her but instead of words, a sharp moan leaves your lips as her mouth meets your shoulder. She trails a line of kisses along your warm skin, allowing you to bask in the comfort that underlies such an intense moment.

She’s had her fun and now her full attention goes toward making you feel better the only way she can right now.

Her hand starts its descent once she’s satisfied with the amount of skin her kisses have covered. She moves slowly despite the obvious wetness that’s started to drip onto her jeans. She’s not trying to tease you anymore, though. Her touch is reassuring, a silent promise she won’t hurt you like all the ones who came before her. 

The noise you let out once her hand cups your aching cunt borders on pathetic but there’s no time to feel embarrassed. There’s no time for anything except grinding down against her fingers while they stroke your swollen clit.

“Good girl,” she murmurs in between soft kisses. You can tell she’s barely holding back the urge to pierce your shoulder with her teeth. “Fuck, you’re so wet, baby. Is this all for me?”

Her question is meant to be rhetorical but you don’t dare risk it, already too far gone to be able to deal with more teasing. “Yes…just for you.”

Kate’s fingers stutter in their movements. She wasn’t expecting a response, much less one that makes her possessive, and borderline primal, instincts flare up. The change in her scent throws you off, especially when the words that escape her are almost as needy as your own.

“You’re so good for me…so fucking pretty like this. God, you’re driving me crazy, puppy.”  

The emphasis on the word is enough to make you cry out in pleasure but then she sinks two fingers into your tight pussy and you swear the world stops moving for a few ecstasy-filled seconds. 

Kate doesn’t mind that you stop rocking against her, she’s much too eager to show you she’s the only one capable of making you feel this heavenly while doing such sinful things to your body.  

She’s also already obsessed with the way you’re clenching around her fingers and it shows in the non-stop groans coming out of her.

Groans that push you closer to the edge.

“You’re taking my fingers so well.” She’s panting into your shoulder but you can’t blame her for it since you’re in a much more desperate state, panting and groaning against her neck. “So tight but so needy for more, isn’t that right, pup?”   

“Yes-” Kate slips another finger inside you before you can get too far. “Fuck! Please!”

You don’t know if it’s your words or the sound of the tears that are gathering in the corners of her eyes but she instantly turns back to that gentle alpha you know so well. The one who puts your needs above her own without missing a single beat.

“I know, I know. Just relax, let me take care of you.” 

Her fingers thrust inside of you at a rapid pace but she’s careful not to get too rough with you. She shifts a little, kissing her way across the top of your shoulder and to the side of your neck.

You’ve never felt closer to her than you do right now and the feeling is somehow more overwhelming than your pleasure. 

Kate’s thumb starts drawing circles on your throbbing clit and you almost fall apart instantly. She knows. Of course she knows because she’s spent hours getting to know every part of what makes you who you are. Including your painful past. 

She lets you bask in the feeling of holding back until your cries of pleasure border on discomfort. “It’s okay, puppy,” she mumbles while nuzzling your neck. “You don’t have to wait, you can cum for me. Show me you’re mine.”

There’s no way for you to last any longer once she says that. 

Your mouth drops open into a long moan as Kate coaxes your orgasm out of you. You’re sensitive and desperate and yet the thing that causes you to truly give in to your release is the care she puts into everything she’s doing. 

She’s giving you everything you want because she knows it’s the only thing that’ll make you feel better. The only thing that'll take away the discomfort of your heat and the anxiety that still thrums through your veins from being with her.

Your entire body shakes and shudders from the strength of your orgasm, Kate’s fingers slowly fucking you through it until you fully collapse against her. 

“Good girl.” She plants a kiss on your neck before pulling her fingers out of you. 

You whine the second she leaves your cunt empty but you’re too worn out by everything that’s happened to beg for another orgasm. Instead, you accept the fingers she presses against your lips, opening your mouth without a second thought and moaning at the taste of the wetness that covers the digits.

“There you go, just like that, pup.”

You’re far too exhausted to reply so you settle on sucking her fingers while she whispers soft praise into the space between you.

After days of yearning for the alpha’s touch, your body finally feels soothed. Relaxed to the point of comfortable sleepiness, not the awful stress-filled exhaustion you were forced to deal with on your own.

You’re finally safe in the arms of someone who genuinely loves you for who and what you are.

“Does my sweet omega want a nap?” 

Her soft tone makes you smile around her fingers. You let out a muffled sound of contentment and Kate merely chuckles in response at how eager your sucking is despite your obvious fatigue.

“Okay, sweetheart. Just close your eyes, I’ll be right here to take care of you when you wake up, alright?”

There’s not a single doubt in your mind that she’ll be true to her word.

So, you close your eyes and take a few deep breaths that fill your entire being with the smell of her. You belong completely to Kate and you wouldn't have it any other way.

[summercourtship]

𝖍𝖆𝖚𝖓𝖙 | 𝖉𝖆𝖓𝖓𝖞 '𝖏𝖊𝖉 𝖔𝖑𝖘𝖊𝖓' 𝖏𝖔𝖍𝖓𝖘𝖔𝖓 𝖝 𝖋!𝖗𝖊𝖆𝖉𝖊𝖗 | 18+

I started writing this in fall 2020. At it's most ambitious, it was going to be a multi-chapter fic but that obviously didn't and won't happen so here: have it reimagined as a one-shot. You might be able to tell where it would have expanded into a larger story, but I tried to condense it. If anything that is here is eerily similar to something else I've written, it's because I've probably taken it from this draft lol. Also TBH I'm trying to not be as explicit in my sex scenes because I just feel more comfortable writing that way. Which seems like the opposite of a goal: for years, I've been trying to become better at writing super explicit scenes and now I'm trying to reel it in and make it (hopefully) match the rest of my prose. IDK. Happy Halloween!

brief summary: A one-shot about being stalked by your coworker who is also the serial killer terrorizing the town. warnings: slightly dubious consent due to threat of death, stalking, horror themes, knife play, PIV sex, some dirty talk | word count: 4025

danny 'jed olsen' johnson masterpost | read on ao3

You smell him before you see him. Stale cigarette smoke, coffee, and the unspecific musk of his cologne. On anyone else, you’d hate it. But with him, it’s become an almost comforting scent, indicative of one of your favorite people’s presence. When he rounds the corner and comes into your view, you can’t help the tiny smile that crosses your face.

“Hi Jed!” You chirp as he comes to a stop in front of your desk, placing his coffee on the corner of your desk to free his hands as he rummages in his side satchel bag. He gives you a smile in return, pulling out a thin file folder and flipping it open. 

“Here are those photos you wanted me to get,” He hands over a small stack of pictures, all developed and ready to go. Last week, you asked him to take the pictures on a whim, thinking you might just have to go down yourself with your crappy hand-me-down camera and snap a picture for the article you’re working on. But, to your surprise, he agreed quickly. 

The article isn’t anything special- in fact it’s quite the opposite. A filler piece for the middle section of the paper that no one really read. Despite this, you couldn’t bring yourself to bullshit the article, and still put forth an unnecessary amount of effort into the piece. No one would read it now, but perhaps it could be added to your portfolio for when you finally left this town. 

The photos are good- which isn’t a surprise considering who took them. Everything Jed did seemed to turn out well, even when he didn’t try. You wonder what he looks like doing something he’s actually passionate about.

“I didn’t think you’d have these ready so soon!” You say, flipping through the four pictures he handed over. You’d have to choose one- you’re lucky they’re even letting you include a picture in the meaningless article. “I mean, aren’t you busy with Ghostface?” 

He gives a small exhale, like he’s laughing at his own inside joke. “A little bit.” He pauses. “Maybe I wanted a break to go take some pictures of the duck pond in the park. Riveting stuff you’re writing about.”

“Excuse me, but the purported existence of an otter in the duck pond is very important news. Would be front-page worthy if there wasn’t someone else taking up the headlines.” You laugh before stopping for a moment, thinking about what you just said. “Oh my god, I’m sorry. People are dead and I’m making jokes about an otter.” 

“Don’t worry about it, everyone copes in different ways.” He smiles down at you. “Especially when you have no idea if you’re next.” 

“That’s morbid, but fair.” You say, tucking a stray strand of hair behind your ear. You don’t notice how his eyes flick to follow the movement. “Anyways, thanks again for the pictures. I will have to find a way to repay you.” 

“Don’t worry about it.” He smiles again, different this time. This is the smile that makes your stomach swoop and your heart skip a beat. Your face heats and you stop thinking for a second, but you press on.

“No, please-” 

“I wouldn’t want to put you out like that. Times are hard.” 

“I- okay.” You sit back, looking at him. He nods and starts to leave, but the part in you that insisted on somehow repaying him took over and you were speaking up once more.

“Jed!” He turns and looks back, eyebrows raised. “Um, at least let me take you out for coffee? Just as a thanks, not repayment.” He thinks about it for a moment, your heart racing as you wait with bated breath for his answer. If he didn’t say yes, you’d never be able to look at him again. You might have to leave town immediately.

“Sure, but let’s make it a date instead.” He gives you a tiny smile and a wink that you barely register, before turning and walking away. Giddy, you sit back in your chair, trying not to hide your face in your hands. Instead you focus on the pictures, flipping through them to distract yourself from the newfound excitement in your veins.

____

Despite the fact that there was a masked stalker-murderer prowling the streets of your town, you felt no fear walking home. Maybe it’s a remnant of your teenage “nothing can hurt me” years. Maybe it’s just your stupidity rearing its ugly head at the worst time. 

Or maybe you just like the thrill of it all.

You had listened to the warnings- check behind you when you walk, keep an eye out for anything abnormal, lock your windows, lock your doors, don’t hang out places alone. However, you followed them a little haphazardly. You didn’t engage in any behaviors that could be misconstrued as inviting danger into your life, but you also didn’t necessarily allow the paranoia to get to your head.

If you did, you might have died from sheer terror and helplessness. Or perhaps you would’ve been more careful, and would’ve definitely noticed that you had already unknowingly disregarded the warnings.

Someone was following you.

And they had been following you for a while.

____

You wake up suddenly. It’s like that sometimes- not gently, or gradually. You’re just... awake. Brain racing to catch up with your surroundings, you sit up. No clock around, but you’d hazard a guess that it’s somewhere around 3AM. Running a hand through your hair, you sigh, the dream you’d been having already disappearing from your memory. Plopping back onto your pillow, you close your eyes and wait for sleep to come back to you.

It’s funny how the air conditioning can sound like someone breathing, deep and slow. You vaguely register that something isn’t right here, but sleep takes over before you can linger on that thought. 

__

The best coffee shop in town is a small, cluttered shop off of the main road. It’s tucked away between a barbershop and a vintage store, far enough away from the main street that any tourists wouldn’t come by it. (Not that there were many of those now that a serial killer prowled the streets at night.)

“You okay?”

You look up from where you’d been staring into your coffee, even though it was probably too late in the day to be drinking it, the sky already darkening with the approaching evening. But your body was thick with exhaustion for reasons you weren’t quite sure and you needed to finish another pointless article when you went home. Jed had his own coffee, so at least you weren’t alone in your desire for evening caffeination. 

“Yeah, I’m just… trying to not psych myself out about everything going on. The news says it's good to be careful but I know I’d just end up taking it too far and becoming paranoid.” 

“No one knows how to deal with this.” He says, simply. You only nod in agreement and take a sip from the coffee. 

A breaking news report on the TV in the corner of the room catches your eye. GHOSTFACE STRIKES AGAIN screams the caption at the bottom of the screen. You silently nudge Jed and direct his attention towards it. For a moment, it looks like the echo of a smile crosses his face, but it’s gone before you can truly absorb it. His face is stony, and he looks back at you. 

“Are you gonna write about that?” You ask. 

“Tomorrow.” 

“What number is this?”

“Six.” He answers without hesitation. You force yourself to take a deep breath to try and calm the beating of your heart. Every time the news breaks, it feels like the first time. You don’t think you’ll ever get used to hearing about another brutal murder, and maybe that’s a good thing. It means you aren’t desensitized to it yet. You only realize that Jed is watching you carefully when he asks, again: “Are you okay?” 

“I’m fine. Why are you so worried about me? You could be next too.”

“I think I can handle it if it comes to that.” He took a sip from his coffee to hide his smile. If you found this odd, you didn’t remark on it. “At least let me walk you home tonight.” 

You stared at him, unsure why you were suddenly uneasy, why an alarm was going off somewhere in the back of your head. Then you decided that it was stupid. You knew Jed. He took pictures of the duck pond for you. Hardly anything to be frightened by. 

“That would be nice, thanks.” 

___

After a week of waking up in the middle of the night, you were certain there was something else going on that your body was trying to tell you. When your eyes open, once again barely past two A.M., you sit up in your bed instead of trying to go back to sleep right away like you normally do. The shadows in your room seemed deeper tonight, your curtains blocking out most of the light from the street. 

You stare into the corner, hoping that the shape manifesting in the darkness was just your eyes playing tricks on you and you could go back to sleep. But you knew better. Slowly, your eyes adjust to the low light and you’re able to make out the dark figure standing in the shadows. 

“...Go away.” 

Slowly, with the creak of leather, the figure shook its head. You take a careful breath, trying not to let your fear show. But it must be palpable in the air, there's no way it wasn’t. 

“What do you want?” 

The headlights of a car driving by shined into your room for a brief second, illuminating the figure and the mask he wore like a bolt of lightning struck down outside. It only confirmed what you had been afraid of since you’d woken to see a dark shadow in your corner, as his mask was barely visible in the dark room. 

But it seems that Ghostface has, indeed, marked you as his next victim. 

You move, bolting out of bed. He must want to give chase because he lets you fling your door open and run down the hall, his steady footsteps following you. But he catches up to you quickly, his body slamming into yours and pressing you against the wall, his arms wrapping around your front. Before you can begin to struggle, the thin edge of a blade is pressed against your throat, effectively stopping you in your tracks. You can only respond with a choked cry.  

The hard length of his body presses against your back, a firm barrier between you and your freedom. He adjusts slightly, allowing you to feel the other hard length pressing against you, though you can only barely feel it through the layers of his outfit. But you know it’s there. 

You exhale shakily, and you don’t know if it's from fear or your own arousal. (Or both). 

His chest hits your back as he breathes, standing still with you as your mind tries to catch up with everything that has happened in the past few seconds.

“Let me go.” You whisper. His arms flex around you, squeezing slightly. “Please.”

To your surprise, his grip loosens. 

“Call the cops and I’ll skin you alive.” He hisses in your ear, his voice rough from the modulator he’s using. 

And then he’s gone, leaving you standing frozen in your hallway, waiting for the other shoe to drop. Why wasn’t he killing you? Why wasn’t your blood splattered on the walls, why did he let you go?

Despite his warning, you did consider calling the cops. But really, what would they do? Ghostface was gone. There was no evidence aside from the thin line of red on your throat where he’d pressed the knife, and even that was fading quickly.

Instead, you return to your room, curling under the covers and staring at the wall until the room brightens with the dawn. 

___

You had no idea if Ghostface continued to watch you. You were certain he was. You’d come home to things in obviously different positions. It was like he was taunting you, begging you to do something about it.

You simply put the objects back where they belonged and continued about your day.  

___

“Is there something you wanted to tell me?” Jed asks, a few dates later when you’re sitting on your couch with him and perched on the edge of the cushion, your muscles tense like you were about to take off running, and he seems so understanding in that moment that you almost blurt out what has been happening for the past two weeks. But fear takes a hold of you, and instead you simply shake your head. 

“No, no. There’s nothing.”

___

The second time you actually see Ghostface, you’re barely prepared for it. You knew, deep down, that he’d be back at some point and yet you were still surprised when you arrived home to an open window, your sheer curtains fluttering in the hot wind as the humidity from outside filled the room. 

You drop your bag, staring at the open window like it was a rabid animal that was going to attack. Then, slowly, you turn your head to the corner, where you can feel his eyes on you. 

Even though you can’t see his eyes through the mask, you can feel the moment you make eye contact with him. 

Ghostface starts walking towards you and you don’t know why you don’t move. The door is right behind you and yet you stand there, watching as he approaches you with slow and measured steps as the streetlight from outside glints off the knife he holds loosely in his hand. You swallow thickly. 

Then, when he’s only a step away and after you’ve had ample time to turn around and run away, he grabs the side of your head, his gloved hand threading through your hair. Finally, your brain catches up to your situation and you struggle against his hold. You vaguely register him shushing you from behind the mask but your heart is racing too fast in your ears to really pick up on it. 

As a response to your thrashing, he places the flat edge of the knife against your cheek, a silent threat that stills your movement. You stare at him, stuck between his knife and his hand. (You should’ve run, why didn’t you run?)

He clicks his tongue, the noise distorted by the voice modulator in his mask as he shakes his head.

“Be good for me, won’t you?”  

Something shifts-- maybe it’s the wind from the open window or maybe he leans in a fraction closer but you suddenly catch a whiff of his scent. He must’ve been covering it up with a heavier cologne in his previous visits, because you would have easily recognized this from the first visit. Stale cigarette smoke, coffee, and an unidentifiable musk of his (usual) cologne.

It’s like being dunked in ice cold water after a warm day in the sun. You stare up at Ghostface, your brain quickly piecing together all the things you hadn’t consciously picked up on. The coincidences, the hints, the tiny behaviors that reminded you, always, of someone else. 

You pull yourself out of his grip, and you don’t know if he expected you because you’re able to make it halfway across the room on shaky legs before he grabs you again. Your legs buckle beneath you at the force of his body against yours and he follows you to the floor, roughly turning you over so you’re laying on your back with him perched above you. 

Heart racing, you reach up and yank his mask off, too quick for him to react. You blink at him, confirming what you’d just figured out. What you’d known, really, this entire time.

“Jed.” 

For a second, his face is blank. Then, he starts to laugh, pressing his weight down on your body when you start to struggle again. 

“I was wondering when you’d figure it out. Was hoping you wouldn’t, really, but.” He shrugged. “Does it make you feel better, or worse, to know that you weren’t actually cheating on me?”

“I never did anything with Ghostf- you.”

“But I know you well enough to know that you wanted to. I felt how you pressed back against me that night when you first noticed me in your room.” He leans down, getting in your face. His eyes are so cold, not at all the eyes of the Jed Olsen you knew. Was that even his name, or was that a lie too? “Did you want Ghostface to hold you down and fuck you? Was Jed not cutting it out for you? You needed the big bad serial killer, didn’t you?” 

He places his gloved hand over your throat, noting how your breath catches. “Of course you did.” His hand moves down, laying over your left breast. He doesn’t move, doesn’t try to actually touch you. It’s only then you notice the rhythm he’s keeping with his other hand, the one that’s still resting on the side of his leg. He’s feeling your heartbeat, though his eyes are locked onto yours. 

“I didn’t. I don’t.” 

“You say that, but-” He peers closer at your eyes. “Your eyes are telling me something else.” He leans back and smugly offers his explanation. “You know that eyes dilate when you’re sexually aroused.”

“I-” You swallow, falling silent. What can you say? Any denial would be a lie. He continues to look down on you, face passive. 

“I don’t want to kill you.” He interrupts your silence. Then he’s quiet. Thoughtful, almost. A glimmer of the Jed you knew coming through in his hesitation. “Not yet, at least.”

“Oh-”

“But I can’t exactly let you go on knowing who I am.”

“...I won’t tell anyone.” He raises an eyebrow, looking like he might burst into laughter again. “Promise.”

What power did you have to promise something when you were the one under him, the memory of the edge of his knife still cold on your cheek? 

“Who would you tell?” He said, causing you to furrow your brow. “You think that Jed Olsen is my real name? I’ve thought through everything before you or anyone else could even try to.”

“But-”

“Why would I let you go, when your death will be so…” he leaned down again, his hips rolling slightly against yours. It’s achingly difficult not to press up against it. “...delicious?”

“I don’t want to die.” 

“None of you do.” He tutted. His hand that had been laying on your breast moves to the hem of your shirt, slowly pulling the fabric up to expose your stomach. You shivered at the feeling of leather on your skin, goosebumps trailing after his fingers as he slid his hand back towards your breasts. 

“Front clasping bra.” He says under his breath, raising his eyebrows at you. “Were you expecting company?”

“No.” You glance down. You could offer an explanation like oh, it’s almost laundry day or I just like this bra, but you stay silent. Watching as he unclasps it.  

Jed- though that isn’t his name, is it?- removes his gloves, tossing them somewhere in your living room. You start to turn your head to see where they landed but he grabs your chin in his hand, forcing you to look at him again. 

“Stay still.” 

It’s then that you notice his knife, back in his hand, and watch, with bated breath, as he drags the tip over the skin between your breasts, not hard enough to even sting. Down, under where your skin creases, back up around the right breast until he lays the blade flat against you. Your chest is rising and falling quickly with your breath, though you try to control it for fear of being nicked by the knife. 

“Are you going to kill me?” 

He hums, tracing the point of the blade around your nipple and watching as it hardens. 

“Tell you what-” He moves the knife to the other breast. “-we can postpone your death.”

“And what do you want instead?” You ask, as if it wasn’t obvious from the way he was dragging his blade across your exposed chest or the obvious erection pressing against you when he rolled his hips. 

“I think you know.” He raised his eyebrows. Was there a choice? And even if you did have a choice where the option wasn’t death, would you choose any differently? 

He pinches your nipple, prompting a shaky acceptance from you. “Fine.” You barely bite back a please before he slides down your body, his hands running down your chest to the hem of your pants. The knife returns to cut off the button (unnecessarily) and he roughly pulls your pants down your legs, his nails scratching your skin. 

He slots himself between your legs, now with only the thin fabric of your underwear and his clothes separating him from you. Even that doesn’t last long, as he takes the side of your underwear and rips through it with the knife before doing the same to the other side, ripping the fabric away from your body. 

Leaning back, he starts to fiddle with the many belts and buckles around his waist. You watch, your legs falling apart slightly. His eyes drop to your core, his tongue darting out to lick his lip at the sight of your wet cunt. 

“For someone who seemed so averse to this, you’re pretty wet.” He comments. Before you can respond, he’s pushing into you, having pulled his cock from the complicated trappings of his outfit. 

You groan at the intrusion, the slight pinch of pain before you adjust as he continues to push into you. He gives you barely a moment to breathe before he pulls out and begins thrusting back into you. 

“Fuck, you’re tight.” He grunts as he fills you, his cock thick in your cunt. You can only whimper in response, rolling your hips to meet his thrusts. 

He pulls your leg up, placing it over his shoulder as he continues to fuck into you, the new angle allowing him to hit deeper inside of you. You curse, throwing your head back. You’re certain that you’ll have a rash on your back and ass from the carpet rubbing against your skin but the bursts of pleasure from his cock and his fingers are enough to distract you from that for the moment. 

“Come on, cum on my cock-” He grunts, his hips rutting down against you, his fingers pressing harder against your clit as he practically bullied your body into orgasming for him. Your back arched, hands flying to pull him down to you. Your fingers dig into the fabric of his cloak, scratching against the leather as he urges you on with whispered praise and degradation. 

With a final thrust of his hips, he finishes inside of you, low curses hissed through his teeth. 

You lay, chest heaving as he pulls out, wincing at the sudden feeling of emptiness. The sweat that covers your skin begins to cool. 

“Remember what I said last time about calling the cops.” 

You don’t respond, only clipping your bra back together and pulling your shirt back down over your chest. After all, what could the police do at this point? There were very few signs of a struggle in your apartment. And, as you found out the next day, Jed had gone out after and killed someone else. At best, the police wouldn’t believe that it had actually been Ghostface in your apartment. At worst, they’d think you were in on it. 

And, when you went into work the next day to find a dark polaroid picture of you, asleep, from a few weeks ago- before you’d even asked Jed to take those pictures of the duck pond- with a red heart scrawled at the bottom, you began to think that maybe the worst assumption wasn’t that far off anymore. 

[pentacentric]

I probably think way too much about how very little Sam knew about Mary. How John and Dean gave him almost nothing, to the point that she wasn't even really like a ghost shadowing his life, more like the story of one overheard in bits and pieces over the years. And yet, his whole life from when he can first remember—every bit of motivation or guilt, every point of pride or shame—is built around his mother, this person he isn't allowed to know.

I've written a lot of bits and pieces about it before, but never a standalone. This is actually an excerpt from a longer story, but I modified it some and I think it works on its own, hopefully (he knows about hunting already but that's really the only canon difference).

..........................

When Sam's in fourth grade, and has to write a page about his favorite memory, he asks for Dean's help. All he can seem to dredge up at the moment is just too weird or too farfetched. Things that say far too much about the way they live for a teacher to read.

So he asks Dean what he would write about.

After some teasing about his best memories being of all the times Sam's embarrassed himself (and a well-aimed pink rubber eraser hitting him between the eyes) Dean quiets down and turns thoughtful.

"Well, I dunno what my most favorite memory would be, really. I guess…" He bites his lip, chews on it for a second, gaze directed absently into the distance. "I think it would prob'ly be my first memories? It musta been, like, when I was three and four maybe. They're…of Mom."

"Oh." Sam's chest gets a little tight. He speaks quietly, cautiously. Dean—Dean and Dad both—they don't talk about her much. Sam's seen her picture, the one that Dad keeps in his journal, a few times, but he knows so little about her. Just that she was pretty (beautiful), with a smile that reminds of him of Dean's and wavy blonde hair. "What was she—what are they like?"

Dean smiles, maybe a little sad, but it's more than that. Warm, wistful; gaze still unfocused and distant. "Mostly…happy. Like…bright. She'd sing to me a lot, and, like, I didn't know the songs back then, but, when I hear 'em now, I can hear her voice singing them. Beatles, Beach Boys, Simon and Garfunkel, um…Peter, Paul, and Mary, maybe…" Dean chuffs out a laugh. "I remember Puff the Magic Dragon, at least…I think I even remember Dad teasin' her about how she better sing me some real music, too, not just sissy crap, but, I dunno, maybe I made that up."

Dean pauses, that bittersweet expression on his face, still, and Sam doesn't want him to get lost in it. He also doesn't want to miss this opportunity, if he can help it.

"I dunno. He'd say somethin' like that." Dean spares him half a smile, still somewhere else in his head. "What…what else do you remember? What'd you guys do together?"

"Well, not a whole lot. I guess mostly just the normal stuff you do with a little kid. Like legos, I remember we'd build castles an' fortresses and stuff. I wanted her to build me a car but we didn't have enough black bricks, so she made me a little boat instead. Dad said it looked like a bathtub." He smiles. "Um, she'd dance with me, sometimes. To the radio. Make lunch—I mostly remember sandwiches and Mac n' Cheese. I'd sit in that little seat in the cart when she went to the grocery store, and she'd ask me what was on the list and I'd pretend I could read it and make up dumb stuff."

The silence is longer this time. Sam breathes out, carefully. "What kinda stuff?"

"I dunno. Just silly things, like 'elephant steaks!' Or 'a unicorn!' Or 'poop n' rhubarb pie!'"

"Gross." Sam wrinkles his nose.

Dean grins at that. "I think you're, like, the only kid ever who never found poop and fart jokes funny."

"'Cause they're not."

When Dean laughs, muttering little weirdo, Sam looks around for something harmless to throw at him, pouts.

"Don't worry, Sammy, if anyone wonders why you're so weird I'll just tell them it's 'cause you still poop your pants, and you're kinda sensitive about it an' all."

"Dean."

Sam decides that his pencil is perfectly fine to throw after all and, as a concession, doesn't aim it at his head. Dean grins, not seeming too annoyed by the assault, so Sam decides to push his luck.

"Did Mom think it was funny? Your lists?"

Dean's melancholy little smile is back. "Yeah…yeah, I think she did. She'd always laugh, anyways. An' she had the best laugh. I'd make up stuff that just got more and more ridiculous just so I could keep watchin' her laugh." He sighs, shrugs. "Anyways, yeah…that's Mom. That's what I remember."

It gets quiet after that, and Sam can see Dean's face starting to shutter over as he withdraws. It's rare for Sam to get to see his brother so open and unguarded any more. Over the last few years, Dean's started to change; Sam can tell. Still fun, still charming, still affectionate, at least with Sam (mostly when there's no one else around to catch him being so uncool). But, even though they're not always alike—Dean doesn't usually brood, rarely explodes, and he never gets that kind of burning cold John does when he's focused on something—sometimes now he kinda reminds Sam of Dad. He's been more closed off, the way Dad can be, his deeper emotions pushed farther away, out of Sam's reach. Doesn't show when things get to him, like he used to.

It's actually kind of lonely, sometimes.

"So, what are you gonna write about, Sammy?"

When Sam shrugs, Dean suggests the time they ran out of gas on a back road in central Florida. They'd only walked two miles before an Oscar Myer Wienermobile came barreling down the road, seemingly out of nowhere, and gave them a lift to and from the closest gas station (still a good eight miles away). Sam counters with the night in Montana that Dad got so drunk he started fighting with the motel owner about yetis (Dad coming down hard on the side of 'hoax'). They ended up getting kicked out at two am after Dad had cut down the guy’s “Bigfoot Crossing” sign with an axe. They toss back and forth increasingly ridiculous ideas until they're both laughing so hard they're in literal tears. When John comes back, they can't even stop long enough to answer what's so funny. Dad just smiles, bemused and fond, and shakes his head before heading off to shower.

Sam thinks maybe he can add this afternoon to his Good Memories pile.

In the end, he waits until that evening, before bed, and easily fills up a page-and-a-half about the time, last summer, when Dad was on a hunt out west and he and Dean had spent all afternoon exploring tidal pools in Yaquina Head, Oregon, marveling at the tiny little aquatic worlds they found. He invents an older teenage cousin that tagged along so the teacher won't question why two young kids spent the day alone in a national park.

He gets an A.

From then on, Sam keeps his eyes out in thrift stores for cassettes from the bands Dean mentioned; pockets them when he can to listen to later on the beat-up Walkman knock-off Dean stole for him for his sixth birthday. He likes a lot of it, but he's careful about what he keeps; only his favorites. He stashes them in the bottom of his school bag, in the hollowed-out book that Bobby showed him how to make last year, on a rainy day when Sam got bored with watching old Westerns.

For some reason, he doesn't want Dean to know about them. Doesn't want him to feel like Sam's trying to take something away from him. So he slips them in when he's sitting in the back of the Impala alone, on long trips, and closes his eyes. Lets the albums pour into his ears over the headphones; shuts the rest of the world out. Sgt Pepper's. Pet Sounds. Bookends. He tries to imagine his mom, Mary, singing the songs to him, in a sunny kitchen.

But he can never really pull together a complete image of her; just bits and pieces, blurred-together impressions: yellow hair, the smiling face from the picture (looking kind of flat, like a mask), a flowered dress he'd seen in a shop window. And he doesn't know what her voice sounded like, so it kind of just ends up being a composite of the voices of some of his favorite teachers (along with the mother of a classmate back in Indiana who drove him home once when she spotted him waiting for the rain to stop under the playground slide).

So he gives up on trying to picture her, and, instead, just tries to sink into the music, sees if he can feel what she was feeling when she listened to it. Imagines the conversations they might have: which songs would be her favorites, why she would have liked them, where she was the first time she heard them playing.

When he hears those songs on the radio now, or over the speakers in a restaurant, it makes him feel kind of happy and sad at the same time.

They remind him of her.

(Except for America—for some reason, that one makes him think of Dean.)

[thechaoticplayer]

ALRIGHT I JUST WATCHED THE KRISISIS HARDCORE MINECRAFT STREAM AND

homie nap but it’s not really a homie nap and they just fuck the reader instead <3 no way they can put their beds together like that and expect me to be normal about it

Author's note: the first time I fucking saw the three beds together I was like "ah yes one big bed very normal" and then I get this and I'm like 😨😨 WHY HAVENT I THOUGHT OF THAT- I've never written something like this before so expect me to just suck- It turned out a lot shorter than expected and I apologize 🙏 Summary: what was supposed to be homie nap turned not into a homie nap 😰 will you survive I dont even know fam Contains: FILTH... SMUT... THREE BIG GUYS! THEY GRAB ON MY THIGHS-

Listen, you weren't purposely trying to seduce them. Four damn beds pushed together in one room, squished between Zali and Vanta. These men were big (not that way, but you definitely found out) and took up so much space, you wriggled around a lot.

Then you decided to make a "joke". "Hey, what if we just fucked in this bed instead? I'm not even tired because you big dicks are taking up most of it and its impossible to sleep now," you joke.

Wilson sits up to stare at you. Vanta and Zali prop themselves up on their elbows and there was some sort of silent communication that you didn't hear.

Now, you're on your back, tears streaming down your face as Vanta bullies his way into you, walls stretching to accommodate his large girth. Your legs over his shoulders and hitting that spot just right as Wilson plays with your clit, shushing you and murmuring praises in your ear. Zali is literally french kissing your tits right now, leaving red and purple marks and popping your nipples in his mouth. His tongue swirls around the sensitive bud, and all this pleasure you are feeling makes you see stars.

"Doing so well for us," Zali mumbles, kissing your jaw as you whimper.

"Shit, you feel so good," Vanta growls, hips stuttering as you both near your climax. Your moans get louder and both the healer and hitmen get harder by the second.

"Vanta Vanta," Wilson quickly says, tapping the soldier's shoulder.

Vanta slows his pace and you whine, so close to your climax only to be taken away from you just like that. "What is it?"

"Pull out for a second."

"Wha-"

"I wanna do something, okay?"

They stare at each other for a moment. Ah, another meeting you weren't invited to. Vanta smirks, dragging his cock out slowly and you feel empty. He moves to the side and watches Wilson go straight in between your thighs, eyes twinkling with excitement.

"W-Wilson, what are yo-" a moan cuts you off as Wilson begins eating you out like there was no tomorrow.

"Mm, perfect," Zali purrs, kissing your lips and swallowing your moans. "Doing such a good job, yes you are."

Wilson moans into your pussy, vibrations sending sparks up your spine as you shove his face deeper into you. His tongue laps greedily at your clit, collecting your juices and prodding at your sopping hole. You were close to climaxing, you could feel it coil and twist in your stomach.

"W-Wilson fuck, mm!"

"Looks like Wilson can eat pussy pretty good, huh? what a surprise," Vanta teases from side, pumping his cock up and down at the sight.

"Shut up Vanta," Wilson groans.

"Make her cum," Zali says with a innocent smile. "I want to overstimulated her, just a bit."

"Despicable." Zali laughs at the comment.

Your vision was going blurry and your mind could barely put together a coherent sentence. "W-wha?"

Zali presses a kiss to your forehead. "Don't worry, mon amour, I'm going to make you feel really good."

You clamp around Wilson's tongue and cum hard, your whole body shaking from the orgasm. Wilson sits up, panting, with all sorts of fluid all over his face. Was it sweat? Drool? Cum? Who knows. But you definitely noticed a white stain on his pants.

Zali instantly flips you over on your fours, hand pressing against your abdomen. "Look at this magnificent work of art..." he mumbles and it makes your cheeks flame. He slides his cock between your folds, collecting your wetness before gently making his way into you.

Full again, but overstimulated as shit, you whine loudly, trying to get away. But Zali's hands hold you against him, rocking into your body that made you moan. Vanta sits right in front of you, a devilish smirk on his lips.

"Since Wilson already came and Zali is in the process of it, why don't you suck me off while your at it?"

With a drawn-out moan, you lean down and kitten lick his tip, too impatient to lick every single part, you put his cock in your mouth. He groans at the sensation, bucking up a bit and making even more tears flood your eyes. Not only are you getting it from the back, but the front as well. Vanta face-fucks you, grunting and saying how fucking great your mouth feels.

Zali's shaky breaths tickle your ears as you clamp around his cock. You felt like heaven to him and he wanted you to feel the same. he quickens his pace, skin slapping skin and you moan around Vanta's dick. Wilson's hand went back in between your thighs, the overstimulation too much as you whimper loudly.

"Just a little longer, sweetheart," Wilson mumbles. And just as he says that, Zali unloads himself in you, hair framing his face as he panted.

However, you were still sucking Vanta's girth, his fingers tangled in your hair as you bob up and down. Vanta chuckles at the sight, admiring your pretty face going down on him like that. It gets him close to the edge, and he finally releases, a salty taste in your mouth. You swallow before he says anything, which makes him smile from ear-to-ear.

"Hey Wilson, you haven't gotten to be inside her yet, right?"

The hitman shakes his head.

"Wanna turn?"

You are definitely not going to be able to walk on your own for a while.

[a-killer-obsession]

Killer with a so who's very insecure about her look (kinda like himself) ? 👀

Took a while to answer this one cos as soon as I saw it I knew I wanted to make a proper drabble from it, thank you for the sweet suggestion 💖

Beautiful [Killer x GN!Reader] - SFW

CW: fluff, kissin' 😳 WC: 1.2k

Masterlist || AO3

Killer had known how he felt about you for a while now. He was thankful for his mask, because it let him watch you whenever he pleased without you ever knowing. The way your whole face lit up and practically sparkled when you smiled made his heart swell with affection, and your laughter was like the most beautiful love song, it caressed him so tenderly and made him blush whenever he heard it. Despite knowing for certain his feelings for you, he said nothing, and likely would have continued that way indefinitely if Kid hadn't threatened to tell you himself. He was more than sick of hearing Killer's disgustingly sweet sighs when he talked about you, but with all his insecurities he refused to make a move unless it was under threat of being exposed by the captain himself. Kid gave him one week, one week to man up and tell you how he felt or Kid would do it his damn self.

Killer bided his time, pacing nervously and chickening out whenever he found you alone. It took Kid dragging him by the metal bar on his mask as though pulling him by the ear and practically throwing him towards you to get Killer to make a move. You stood on the secluded decking in the mouth of the dinosaur skull at the head of the ship, looking out serenely at the calm ocean. The full moon illuminated the waves and bounced back against you, illuminating you with ripples of light that danced over your skin. Killer's breath caught in his throat as he tried to summon the courage to speak to you, standing at the railing beside you, his mouth opening and shutting several times under the mask as he failed to find the words.

“It's beautiful out here tonight, isn't it?” Your eyes were practically twinkling as you spared him a glance before returning your gaze to the sea. His cheeks felt warm, no doubt flushed as they always were when you spoke to him.

“It's- it's not as beautiful as you,” he finally mustered the courage to get out.

Your mood changed so quickly he wondered if he had whiplash, your hands balling into fists, face red as you scowled at him. “Fuck you, Killer,” you spat, before storming off and slamming the door behind you.

Killer wasn't good with feelings, trying to tell you how he felt was entirely foreign to him, but he was sure he hadn't said the wrong thing. He stood there, completely perplexed, entirely lost as to how he'd managed to fuck this up so badly with a single sentence. Unable to find an answer on his own, he turned to his closest friends.

Sitting around his cabin with Kid, Heat and Wire, he explained what happened. Kid and Heat looked just as perplexed, but Wire, a man of knowledge and with the most dating experience of the four of them, seemed to have a clue.

“Kil, what would you do if I said you were beautiful?” He asked hypothetically.

“Deck you for lying straight to my face,” Killer growled back. Wire gave him a knowing look and Killer's expression changed from anger to confusion. “You don't think… did they think I didn't mean it?”

“I've known for a while that [Y/N] has some self esteem issues,” Wire sighed, “I even heard them joke once that they wished they had a mask too. I've no doubt they thought you were making fun of them”

“Oh god, what do I do?” Killer asked, practically begging the older man to save this situation. His heart couldn't bear thinking that he'd hurt you.

“Prove you meant it,” he shrugged, “show them you weren't just joking”

The next night Killer found you in the same place, staring out to the sea in the small secluded deck. He'd been trying to speak to you all day, but every time he approached you would flee from him, hurt plainly written on your face each time. He quickly closed the door behind him, standing against it so you had no escape route.

“Please don't run,” he stuttered out, “I just wanna talk to you, please”

“Why, so you can make fun of me again?” You spat.

“I wasn't trying to make fun of you,” he pleaded, approaching you cautiously, hands up to show he meant no harm, “I meant what I said. I think you're beautiful”

“You're a liar,” you huffed, “I'm not beautiful, please don't hurt me further by trying to convince me that I'm something I'm not”

Killer's heart ached to hear you say that. He had to convince you, regardless of if you liked him back or not, he needed you to know how beautiful you were. He summoned all his courage and reached for the latch on his mask. “I'll show you what it means to be ugly, so you can understand how far from it you are,” he stammered, shaking as he removed the mask and laid bare his face for you to see.

His sharp features glowed under the moonlight, his purple painted lips almost navy in the low light, his icy blue eyes glinting in the reflections from the waves. Scruffy bangs fell to his brows as the mask was removed, and your heart caught in your throat taking in his features for the first time. He waited nervously, watching your eyes scan his face, wide and curious, waiting for your inevitable rejection. He'd hoped he could at least establish a relationship with you before showing you his face, to give you a reason to stay before giving you a reason to leave. Doing it this way, he accepted you'd never want him, his heart tearing in two as he waited, but he'd accept the sacrifice he was making at his own expense if it meant you could understand how he saw you.

“Beautiful,” you finally whispered, a hand coming up to touch his face, tracing over his cheekbone and his lower lip. Your hands trembled as you touched him, and all of a sudden you understood. He felt the same way you did, he thought himself so hideous that he wore a mask to hide himself away, but the face before you was breathtaking, beautiful felt like too humble of a word. Is that how he saw you? You were so caught up in your self loathing that you hadn't taken a moment to consider the possibility that he meant it.

His mouth opened and closed, catching flies as he struggled to process the lack of rejection, and the sincere adoration that was written on your face as you took in every facet of his face, committing it to memory. The single word you'd uttered had been glided in gold, sliding off your tongue like honey and washing over him like healing waters, pulling the shattering parts of his heart back together and binding them. A tear prickled at the corner of his eye, and you stepped forward and kissed it away, before pressing your lips to his. He let out a soft sigh as you kissed him, returning the kiss with all the love and longing he felt, your soft lips so tender against his own, hands tangled in his hair, holding him to you. Not that he would go anywhere, he never wanted to be without you ever again.

[candlewaxandp0lar0ids]

this is halloween || I.N. x reader

Summary: Working in a bar on Halloween sucks. What doesn't suck is your coworker Jeongin being shirtless in the name of it being a sexy costume (unless your boss made him do it, in which case you're prepared to murder him).

Word count: 3.7k

Genres: friends to lovers, coworkers to lovers

Warnings & Tags: mostly fluff, slightly heavy make-out session, mentions of customers being inappropriate with Jeongin.

A/N: hiiiii, welcome back on my blog! I hope everyone's doing good ^-^ I've written four small one-shots for Stray Kids' maknae line for Halloween (and the plan for now is to write four small one shots for the hyung line for Christmas/New Year's). Here is the first one, and I hope you'll enjoy them!

Seungmin · Felix

Working on Halloween night was rarely, if ever, a good experience, if you were in the service industry. You didn’t remember enjoying it even once since you’d started working, taking jobs wherever and whenever you could. It was easy to get hired for Halloween, and on crazy nights like that, tips always flowed in, but it was made barely worth it by the insanity you’d have to endure. The crowds, the noise, even the drunken people, all that, you could handle, but Halloween seemed to bring out the worst in people — or the worse of people, you couldn’t say for sure.

For fuck’s sake, a guy thinking he was a vampire had bitten you one time.

You couldn’t say you’d been surprised when the bar you’d been working at for close to a year had informed the employees that they were expected to wear costumes for the night. Up all night was always somewhat gothic-themed, after all. Plus, they weren’t asking for much. You’d merely been given a red headband with little demon horns on it and a note urging you to ‘dress sexy’. It had made you roll your eyes, and you had decided to only half humor the direction. After all, you’d be standing behind the bar for the night and you didn’t see a point in making too much of an effort.

When you’d gotten there, you had immediately known that had been the right decision. There were much bigger fishes to fry than your outfit, and neither your colleagues nor the manager paid you much attention. You were kept busy from the moment you set foot in the building to the opening, with not a minute to yourself. You only remembered to put the headband on as the very first clients stepped in through the doors.

After that, it was just an endless stream of people trying to get your attention and something to drink.

It was around midnight when you took your break.

Fifteen minutes, that was all you’d get — it meant both nothing and the world to you.

It’s as you’re sitting outside, quietly sipping on coffee that you need both to keep yourself sharp and to warm yourself up on this cold October night, that you’re joined by Jeongin.

You like Jeongin. A few years younger than you, he also joined a couple of months after you did. He’s sweet, hardworking, creative, and, as you find out tonight, has abs for days.

“What are you wearing,” is what comes out of your mouth when he walks towards you, even though your question should be ‘what are you not wearing’.

Jeongin glances down at his body like he forgot, then lets out a sigh as he, too, realizes that he’s very much shirtless — save for the suspenders that half cover dark nipples. You… take him in a little longer than you’d be comfortable admitting. Your eyes go from his large shoulders to the rock hard pectorals, to the well-defined abs that inevitably lead to the happy trail that disappears into his pants. Suddenly, you’re strongly aware of how close in age you are to him, even though you like to joke about how he needs to be taken care of.

He lets himself fall down next to you and the pout he gives you allows you to at least try to cling to that illusion a while longer.

“They asked me to,” he says. “Told me I’d be a sexy demon.”

Immediately, your spider-sense starts tingling. If there’s one thing you won’t sit for in silence, it’s one of your friends and fellow employee getting taken advantage of.

“Wait, did they force you?” you ask, brow suddenly furrowing. “Did they— insist or say something about your job? Because unless we signed very different contracts, I doubt that was in the job description.”

Jeongin’s eyes go wide.

He’s pretty. Shit, he’s really pretty, and he’s sitting so close to you that you can feel his body heat. It’s cold outside, but it was ridiculously hot in the bar, as is made obvious by the discreet sheen of sweat on his body.

“No, they, uh, they didn’t do that,” he says, sounding very sheepish now. “They just— asked.”

You click your tongue. They’d have to have known that he wouldn’t know better.

“I’ll talk to them. You shouldn’t have to dress in a way that makes you uncomfortable.” You gesture at yourself. “See, I’m wearing the stupid headband, but I’m not going to go out of my way unless they start paying me a lot better.”

Jeongin’s eyes follow the movement of your hand, and you feel very naked under his gaze as he takes in your body. Hm, you kinda wish you’d bothered to dress at least just a teensy bit sexier now. Then he looks at you again. Swallows.

“I think you look good,” he says. Then he smiles, and it’s such a sweet sight, cute dimples forming in his cheeks. Takes your breath away for sure. If it sounded more suggestive, you might be led to thinking that he’s flirting with you. It just seems genuine right now, though. Plus, now that you’re looking at him, you’re pretty sure he’s got at least three phone numbers written on his arms. The thought makes you wrinkle your nose in distaste. People tend to forget boundaries, when they’re wasted.

“I really need to get a word with Jin-Young,” you mumble through your teeth. A glance at your watch; your break is almost over and you don’t want to fuck your coworkers over, so you push yourself to your feet. You pat Jeongin’s shoulder, stopping yourself from lingering to feel the muscles under your fingers. Last thing he needs is yet another person disregarding his personal space. “You can throw something on, I’ll take care of it.”

He opens his mouth, closes it, opens it again.

“Oh, uh, it’s fine, you don’t have to do that—”

For a second, you hesitate.

“You don’t mind? Has no one been… gross?”

You openly eye the phone numbers, and Jeongin glances down like he’s seeing them for the first time.

“People are just having fun.” He shrugs, but avoids your eyes.

If the blind, white-hot rage that goes through you at his reaction is any indication of the conversation that’s going to unfold real soon, you might very well lose your job tonight.

“I’ll be back in a second,” you tell him. Again, he says something about how you ‘don’t have to’, but this time you ignore him.

Jin-Young’s in his office, hiding behind mountains of paperwork and muttering numbers to himself as he’s making sense of the receipts that he’s lined up in front of him. The thin pieces of papers jump when you slam your hands on the desk.

“What did you tell Jeongin about his costume?”

After first looking at the papers in complete disarray, like he thinks they moved out of their own volition, he slowly raises his towards you. You’d have sympathy for how lost he looks — Halloween’s hard on everyone in the industry, like you mentioned — if you weren’t so pissed right now.

“To dress sexy,” he says after some long seconds. “Like everyone else. Why? Did he not put any effort into it? Are you jealous about that?”

While you are vaguely flattered that people appear to think you look sexy in your bare minimum effort, that is not the matter at hand right now.

“He’s shirtless,” you say. “Who told him he needed to be shirtless?”

Finally, some light appears in the man’s eyes.

“Aah, that’s right! He asked what I meant by sexy, and that was one of the examples.”

“You pushed him to it,” you say through gritted teeth.

The accusation doesn’t faze Jin-Young whatsoever.

“I didn’t have to. He seemed quite excited about it, if you want my opinion.”

You don’t, typically, but that does throw you off.

“He seemed quite uncomfortable with it,” you say slowly, but it sounds more hesitant now. Jin-Young’s many things, and one of these things is a terrible liar.

“Well, what did you tell him?”

Wait a minute, is this your fault now?

“Nothing! Just asked what he was, you know, wearing. It— it caught me off guard.”

Jin-Young raises an eyebrow at you, and you defensively fold your arms over your chest.

“You know,” he says, trying to be coy and failing miserably as he leans over his desk, “I wonder why he liked the idea of doing it shirtless. It’s not like he doesn’t get attention when he’s dressed normally. Hm, it’s such a mystery. I guess we’ll never know.”

“Are you implying that it was because of me?” You can’t keep the skepticism out of your voice for the life of you.

“Oh, I wonder. Am I now?”

One thing you’re not going to do is talk about your love life with your boss, so you roll your eyes at him — he won’t fire you until the next day, and even that he’s unlikely to do — and walk out, saying something about needing to get back to work, which isn’t wrong.

In going back to the bar, you run face first into Jeongin’s smooth, hard chest, which is truly the cherry on top of everything that just happened. Strong hands grab onto your arms, stopping you from stumbling back, and concerned eyes plunge into yours, so deep you could drown in them.

“Shit, I’m sorry, are you okay?”

Great. You’re doing great.

“I’m fine,” you reply, squeakier than you’d like, “just need to get back to work.”

“What did Jin-Young say?”

That gives you a second of pause. You can’t just ask him flat-out in the middle of a shift on one of the busiest nights of the year if he likes you or not. You’re not wired that way.

“That he doesn’t see any issue if you’re not uncomfortable,” you answer instead of telling the truth.

Jeongin’s shoulders seem to relax, but the corners of his mouth turn down.

“Sorry, I really have to run,” you mumble, stepping out of his grasp. “If I don’t, Jihyo’s going to get crushed under all the customers. But I’ll— see you after my shift, okay?”

A spark of interest lights back up in his eyes. It’s quite silly, how happy and relieved it makes you all of a sudden. If, somehow, Jin-Young is right, and infuriatingly he often is, you’d hate to think that it was your comment that upset him. Which is why you allow yourself to tell him “Plus, it does look great on you”.

You do, then, turn on your heels and walk away like a coward before his jaw has even finished dropping.

The rest of the night is a blur, much like the first part. You do remember Jihyo glaring at you when you finally come back — you deserved that — and your legs and splitting headache very much remember that the customers did not let up once, but you don’t think you could give a single order you took that night.

Well, that’s a lie. You served far, far too many Bloody Maries, to the point where you ran out of tomato juice.

Still, your mind had mostly been trying to make sense of the various complicated thoughts that were swirling in your head all night. You had never allowed yourself to linger on the thought of Jeongin for too long. Of course you liked him, there was nothing to dislike about him. It wasn’t like the two of you hadn’t had moments.

New year’s day, the year before, when you’d known him for less than a week and he’d blushed terribly, refusing to meet your eyes, when the two of you found yourself under the mistletoe. Valentine’s Day, when you had covered for him as he was helping one of his friends who was in a crisis with his girlfriend at the time, and he’d gotten you roses the next day as a thank you. They’d come at a discount because it was the day after, he’d promised you.

Then, for your birthday, him and a few of your other colleagues had gotten you a cute necklace that he had told you, very smugly, that he’d picked out himself. He had an eye for these things, because as he tied it around your neck for you, you’d just fallen in love with it. He hadn’t been there for most of the summer though, and you had mostly written off the whole thing. The two of you didn’t see each other outside of work, and sometimes you lost touch with people, when you were a broke college student too busy trying to make ends meet to go out.

He’d come back in September, though, all tan and glowing and, okay, maybe your heart had given a little jump in your chest, but so what? Yes, Jeongin was hot. Big news. Maybe seeing him after two months meant that you weren’t that used to it anymore and that was why it got to you. But the tan had vanished as autumn set in more firmly, and your heart still insisted on doing that silly little thing sometimes when you laid eyes on him, or when he approached the bar with that wide, dimply smile of his.

It’s doing it tonight, as traitorous as ever, when you catch a glimpse of him in the very full room, still completely shirtless. Watching him isn’t helping with your conundrum though. You don’t have time to do it either way, but there are constantly women flirting with him, their whole body leaning towards him, and while you don’t blame them, not for a second, you can’t see what he’d have seen in you when he so clearly has his pick among all of them.

You’re not— you don’t lack confidence in yourself. You get hit on while on the job often enough that there’s no risk of that happening. You just haven’t had that much luck in the heart department. A guy like Jeongin, who’s hot, yes, but is even more importantly such a sweetheart, that’s… kind of unheard of, for you. Then, even if you do accept this premise, which you do very much question, for the record, there’s the fact that you work together, and if things go south, it could mean you would have to quit. You’ve been there before.

That’s if Jeongin even likes you. Jin-Young could have been wrong. You could be neck deep in delusion right now. You could be setting yourself up for the most crushing development of your life, because the more you’re allowing to think about it, the more your heart soars, and the less you can hide the ugly truth of your ridiculous crush on him.

Ugh. You’re going to kill your boss — that’s the most logical way out of this situation.

When you take your leave at 4 am, the bar is still bustling with life. It’ll be open all night, closing shortly before reopening at noon, but that is someone else’s problem. At least you can thank the past you for wearing flats despite the whole ‘dress sexy’ thing, because you’d be dead by now.

Jeongin’s putting a shirt on when you walk into the changing room, something that you find tragic but that’s probably for the best if you’re hoping to have a productive conversation.

“Got more numbers?” you ask, noting the doodling on his arms.

“I had to confiscate some people’s markers,” is what he sighs in reply.

“Maybe I should have gone harder on Jin-Young,” you mumble, anger filling you again at the thought. “But he said it was your idea to wear that, uh, costume, so I didn’t want to interfere, you know?”

Jeongin’s eyes turn into disks and it’s only then that you find yourself giving some credibility to what Jin-Young told you. Find yourself thinking that maybe, maybe?

“He… gave me the idea,” he says, slowly, eyes darting from the floor to the ceiling lights to the door on the other side of the room like he’s going to make a run for it.

“But among others, right?”

You’re doing everything you can to keep your tone light, turning your back towards him as you get your stuff from the locker, hoping that it makes your question sound casual and not like you’re fishing for information. Gosh, now you understand why kids slide across these little ‘do you like me? yes/no’ notes. This feels so silly. You’re a grown-up, you shouldn’t be dancing around the subject like that.

“Yes but that one was… Uh… Really low-effort.”

Right.

“He made it sound like he thought you were wearing it for someone in particular,” you say like you’d comment on the weather as you finish collecting yourself and turn to face him.

He’s still sitting there, frozen like a deer in headlights, eyes wide as saucers, staring, pleading for help. Your heart’s hammering in your chest. One of you is going to have to take the first step, and it’s the vulnerability of that step that terrifies you. You could have gotten it wrong. He could just be scared that you uncovered his crush on Jihyo, or Jeongyeon, or even on Changbin, for all you know.

Still, you’ll take the plunge. You glance at your nails like they’re a fascinating sight.

“I know I told you already, but I thought you looked great.”

He lowers his gaze immediately. It’s still not quick enough to stop you from seeing the wide grin that forms on his lips.

“Thanks,” he mumbles. It’s all… unhelpful. Could mean anything, and you’re all out of courage now. Then he looks up at you through black locks of hair, and you have to strain to hear what he says. “He was right.”

You blink.

“Who was?”

“I did wear it for you. Jin-Young told you, right?”

Regaining the control of your jaw after he just dropped that on you is way harder than it seems.

“Uh, yeah, yeah he did, what—”

“He just can’t keep his mouth shut.” Jeongin clicks his tongue as he gets up from the bench he was on, grabbing his bag as he does so. “But don’t worry about it, I won’t bother you.”

What?

“You don’t have to lie to make me feel better,” he grimaces, looking away once more. “It’s fine if you weren’t, um, into it.”

“No, I— I just told you.” Your mind flashes back to your first exclamation, and you’re not sure how to take it back or explain exactly what was on your mind without stuttering and making a fool out of yourself, again. “It caught me off-guard,” you explain slowly. “But I was very into it.”

Jeongin’s eyes are still wide, but they’re not filled with fear or surprise anymore. He takes a step towards you as you lean against your locker. You pray high and low that this is going where you think it’s going. As he gets closer and the air grows thicker between you, he seems to be searching for something in your expression that would tell him that he’s gotten the wrong idea, that he should step back. He still hasn’t found it by the time his body brushes against yours, and so he takes the next logical step.

His eyes close as he leans towards you, and you’re smiling when his lips meet yours. He kisses you slow and delicate, intent on savoring every second of it. One of his hands gently lifts your chin to get better access to you, the other coming down to grab your waist, and you arch yourself into him without thinking. The moment’s soft and sweet.

Then he gets even closer, and you wrap your arms around his neck, entangling one of your hands in his hair, and it turns a little less sweet. He goes from carefully tasting you to devouring you, pulling away from you briefly catch his breath before diving back in, his hips pushing you against the locker. Shamelessly, you allow one of your hands to come down to feel the muscles of his chest. He grins at that, nipping playfully at your lower lip, but that doesn’t mean you miss the shiver that runs through him then.

He grabs your hand before you get any lower though, and takes ahold of the other one before you can try anything else on that front, and easily pins them both over your head with just one of his. Then he keeps kissing you, long fingers running over your body oh so sinfully, without ever lingering too long. He takes his sweet time exploring you, and it’s only after a particularly suggestive movement of your hips that tears a moan from his lips, that he lets go of you, stepping away with a crimson blush marring his cheekbones.

“Sorry, I, uh, I might have gotten a little carried away.”

There he goes, not meeting your eyes, again, even after he just kissed the hell out of you.

“I was very into it too,” you hear yourself replying, and he chokes at that. You can’t help the brief laughter that spills from your lips. Cute.

“S-so, just so we’re clear, I’m not— I’d love to take you out. On a date.” He’s back again with the pleading look. “It’s not— it’s not just a physical thing.”

“That’s good,” you smile, leaning towards him in a suggestive manner. It’s just too easy to tease him. “I’d really like it if you took me out on a date.”

He frowns.

“If you keep looking at me like that, I won’t ever be able to do my job again and I’ll get fired.”

Again, you laugh. It just comes easy to you when you’re with Jeongin.

“Let’s see if you don’t get tired of me after one date before we start talking about you getting fired, hm?”

“That’s not going to happen,” he says, sounding far more confident than he has about anything else he’s said that whole evening, and wouldn’t you know it, there are butterfly swimming in your stomach now.

“How do you know?”

He leans in for another kiss.

“I just do.”

this might not make much sense and i'm sorry if it doesn't but i was just so happy to be writing again after such a long time :)))

i hope you all liked it and feedback in any form is always greatly appreciated!

permanent taglist: @lethallyprotected @jisuperboard

[forestkniight]

I'll Be Seeing You

✯ Chapter 1 ✯

Okay, it's been a while since I've written a fic that wasn't a one-shot, so I'm really hoping that it's something I can keep up with. I currently have about four chapters planned, but they are still developing. Even in this chapter, I changed a few things to make the story flow better!

Pairing: Fizzarolli x reader (still debating if I want to make it a polyamorous relationship eventually)

Warning: Swearing

Word Count: 3K

When you’re a kid, the sky's the limit regarding your dreams. No one expects you to have it all figured out, and for the most part, a little voice in your head tells you that you’ll make it out of your situation. Little did you know, it would come at a cost. 

~~

Clutching your chest, you quickly sit up as you try to calm your frantic heartbeat. Several weeks have passed, and you keep having dreams of your past and all the choices that got you where you are today. You take a breath as you look at the slivers of red that pass through the opening of your curtain. 

How long has it been since you fell asleep?

You sigh as you reach for your phone to catch up on anything you might have missed while sleeping, which wasn’t much. Nothing new there. You lay back in bed and stare at the ceiling. These days seem to be going by slower, and you blame it on the lack of sleep due to the dreams. 

Flashes of red and white. 

Of horses.

Of black and white horns.

You shake your head as you check the time. It was still early, and you wouldn’t have to check into work until later on. You currently work as a singer at a live music club in the Pride Ring. You didn’t live an expensive life, but you were content for the most part, especially when you got to sing. When you were a child, all you ever wanted to do was perform in front of people and make them feel something. You never got that opportunity as a child, though. You wince as a memory enters your mind.

“Blitzo! I have to clean that up,” you pouted as you picked up the garbage your friend tossed everywhere on the floor. 

“It’s not my fault you got me a gift and made it impossible to open,” Blitzo says while trying to untape the gift box that was previously in another taped-up gift box. 

You couldn’t help but smile widely as you waited for Blitzo to finally get to the actual gift. You glanced at Fizz, who was just as excited about the gift as your other friend. As if sensing your gaze, he looked up at you and stuck his tongue out at you.

“This is low, even for you! You know Blitzo can’t resist a gift,” Fizz teased.

You giggled as you saw Blitzo’s frustration at opening the gift box and finding yet another gift box inside. 

“Well, I couldn’t make it easy for him,” you said, reaching out to grab the discarded tape Blitzo had thrown to the side. " Besides, his gift is in the next box.”

Fizz smiled and shook his head at you. He looked back at Blitzo's hand, and he was close to opening the final gift box. Once he managed it, he removed its contents.

“No way,” Blitzo’s eyes lit up as he took out a little gold figurine of a horse and a heart-shaped locket.

“I was walking around some shops in my free time and saw it in the window. I knew right away that it was meant for you,” you said as Blitzo launched himself at you, nearly tackling you.

“Thankyouthankyouthankyou,” he said as he hugged you before releasing you to admire his new figurine some more. 

“It’s no problem, Blitzo! You deserve it and more. Now,” you turn and take another gift box from close by, “I couldn’t forget a gift for my second favorite clown!”

Blitzo giggles as Fizz slightly frowns.

“Not funny.”

“Awww, come on Fizz. I’m just joking. You know you’re my favorite,” you giggled as Blitzo’s jaw dropped. 

Fizz instantly beams at the use of the word favorite. 

“Anyways, I saw this in the window, and I-”

“What’s going on here?”

The three of you turn towards the voice belonging to Blitzo’s dad, Cash. 

“Look, Dad! It’s a gold-”

“Shouldn’t you be cleaning the bleachers,” Cash turns to look at you, “They’re not cleaning themselves, girl!”

You felt your face flush in embarrassment at being talked down to in front of your friends, especially when they had acts in the circus. You were just a janitor for all intents and purposes. 

“Sir, I was just taking a little break with my friends,” you said with a tiny voice.

You hated feeling so small—not in a childlike way, but in a way that made you feel like your life was worth less because you were there to clean everybody else’s mess. 

“If you want a break, how about I fire you now, and you get all the breaks you want, huh? And what did I tell you about distracting my star,” Cash snapped at you. 

You felt your eyes tear up as you looked at Blitzo, whose head hung low. You felt bad for him. His own father preferred another boy as his son. You remembered the time his father had sold him for such a low cost and made him steal. That felt like so long ago now.

“I know, sir, but we’re kids too…We just want-”

“I don’t care! Fizzarolli, do you think that big clowns get to where they are because they spend their time talking to the help,” Cash said cruelly.

You turned to look at Fizz. He looked down at the unopened gift box in his hands before setting it slightly off to the side. 

“Fizzy?”

Your voice cracked as you realized he wasn’t going to respond. You looked up at Cash and saw the shit-eating grin he had on his face. You couldn’t help the tears beginning to pool in your eyes.

“I’ll get started right away, sir. I hope you enjoy your gift, Blitzo. Sorry for distracting you from your work, Fizzarolli,” you said bitterly. 

Cash watched as you picked up the last remnants of trash from Blitzo’s gift. You stood up and were getting ready to leave, but not before quickly snatching the letter attached to Fizz’s gift. You could see Fizz’s distress at your action, and you watched him throw a random piece of trash he had been playing with in front of him. Still, you walked forward. You wanted to walk away with some dignity.

“Aren’t you going to pick that up,” Cash barked at you, looking at the scrap in front of Fizz. 

Blitzo and Fizz looked at you as you slowly walked before him and picked up the scrap of trash, a tear running down your face. You couldn’t even bear looking at either of them at this point. You sprinted out of the small tent to head to the main tent and begin your work.

Your heart tugs as you push the memory out of your head. It was bad enough living through it. You don't need to be reminded of it anymore, considering you’ve seen commercials of Blitzø and Fizzarolli as adults. It hurt seeing their faces, especially after the way you left. Still, you wouldn’t allow yourself to dwell on it for longer than a few minutes. There was no point. Thinking about it wouldn’t change what happened. 

~~

After lazing around all day, you finally begin walking to work. You could take a car there, but it was so close, and you enjoy the time it gives you to mentally prepare. While performing was always your dream, it still got you nervous, especially if the crowd in the club was bigger than usual. Some days, the line would stretch outside the club door’s entrance. 

As you walk down the street, looking at the sights, you catch sight of a locket in one of the shop windows. You stop as you instinctively reach up to your locket tucked away under your shirt. You feel a ghost of a smile as you remember the gift you had given Blitzo and Fizzarolli. Your locket had pictures of a young Blitzo and Fizzarolli, Blitzo’s had a picture of you and Fizzarolli, and Fizzarolli’s had a picture of you and Blitzo. You sigh as you wish you could have seen Fizz’s reaction to the locket (and the letter, but that was neither here nor there). 

You see the club fast approaching and notice people already arriving for the night. So much for practicing on stage when you arrive. It must have been one of those nights when they would open the club a bit earlier. 

You quickly step to the side entrance and are let in by one of the bartenders on break. You shoot them a quick smile before finding your way to your dressing room. You always need a moment to take a breath and warm up. You begin humming as you apply minimal makeup. You just required enough so that the spotlight wouldn’t wash you out. You hear faint music in the background as you look at the door of your room through the mirror’s reflection, another memory sneaking back up. 

After cleaning the main tent, you decided to retire to the secret location you went to when you felt sad. You would typically watch your friends perform, but you didn’t want to talk to anyone about what happened earlier. You figured you could stay there until late at night before sneaking back into your tent. 

You finally made it to the location, which consisted of a lot of open space and a giant tree you liked to sit under. You softly threw yourself under the tree as you looked up at the sky, which always seemed to be the same shade of red despite the time. You closed your eyes as you tried to find a way to pass the time. However, your eyes shot open when you heard a tree branch rustling. Before you knew it, something, or more like someone, swung down from the tree branch to sit next to you.

“Heya,” Blitzo said, throwing his hands out and laying beside you. 

You rolled your eyes at how he seemed to have forgotten what had transpired earlier. 

“Blitzo, I told you to stop coming here! This is my secret place,” you whined. 

Blitzo turned to look at you, and it was his turn to roll his eyes.

“It’s not exactly a secret if people can easily walk to it from the circus.”

“Still…” 

You wanted to be alone, but Blitzo always had a way of showing up when that was the case. Some part of you was glad. Even though you wanted to be alone, it didn’t mean that was what you needed, and being around Blitzo always made you feel better. You were content to stay silent, but that wasn’t what Blitzo had in mind.

“Oh! Fizz wants to see you after the show. He wants to talk to you and get the complete gift,” Blitzo said as he sat up, looking down at you.

You quirked your eyebrow as you sat up as well. The complete gift? He must be on about the letter. 

“I wouldn’t want to distract Fizzarolli from all the important stuff he has to do,” your words are filled with sarcasm. 

“He’s coming here whether you like it or not. My dad can’t be the reason your friendship goes down the drain,” he plays with his hands, “he can’t ruin anything else.”

You feel your attitude drop at that last part. You make eye contact with him and nod to confirm that you will give Fizz the complete gift. He smiles slightly, and your eyes catch the locket around his neck. You feel a smile start to spread. He follows your gaze and rolls your eyes.

“Yea, yea. It’s not a big deal,” he stands. " Anyway, I've got to get ready for the show, but I’ll see you after, okay?”

“Alright,” you respond hesitantly as you watch him start the walk back to the main circus tent. Eventually, he walks into the tent, leaving you alone again.

You reach down to your pocket where you had folded up the letter you would give to Fizz. You had spent so much time ensuring everything was perfect, only for the moment to be ruined. You sigh and throw yourself back again, allowing the tears to reappear. This was a safe place to do so. 

The wind was blowing slightly, and you couldn’t help but reflect on your life at the circus. You had joined after you were left alone due to…circumstances. Luckily for you, Fizz and Blitzo found you on the street and asked if you were alright. If only little you could see where you were now. Would you have taken their outstretched hands? 

You didn’t know how much time had passed, but you did know it wasn’t long until people started flooding out of the tents. You felt your stomach do flips. Were you ready to tell Fizz what the letter said, especially after his silence today? Your love for him was unconditional. You only ever saw Fizz, your best friend, not Fizzarolli, the performer. You cared so deeply for him and Blitzo. They saved you and made a home in your heart that would never disappear, but you were dreaming if you thought they would ever forget your place at the circus. 

But what did that mean for you? Would you be willing to stay in a place that would lead to you yearning for something that would never happen? Were you willing to stand by and watch your friends move on in life without you? Fall in love without you? Watch Fizz fall in love with someone? 

You sat up as tears began flowing faster down your face. Your heart was in your throat as years of self-hate and pain started pouring out. Your sobs become audible. 

No, you wouldn’t become the pathetic friend who fell in love with someone they couldn’t have, the pathetic friend who thought that what they did didn’t matter as much as who they were. 

You looked up at the circus, a decision being made in your mind. You stood up and quickly ran back to your tent. You tried to listen to the performance and realized it was two acts from the end. You quickly grabbed your backpack and packed only the most valuable things you owned. The rest could be replaced, but things like gifts from your friends, items from your past before the circus, and even a hoodie from the circus were something you couldn’t part with. 

The final act was beginning—Blitzo and Fizz’s duo act. Your heart pounded as you thought about what you were doing. It wouldn’t hurt to try to see just the beginning, so you left your backpack hidden by the circus’ entrance. You snuck into the main tent and climbed to a location where only Blitzo and Fizz could see you. They still hadn’t dropped down, and you saw them messing around from across the space. Blitzo saw you first, and he beamed at you as he waved. You couldn’t help the smile that automatically appeared as you waved back. Fizz turned to see what he was waving at and saw you. He gave you a soft smile with a hesitant wave, and you felt your smile falter. 

Your first love. That’s what it was. Boy, was it frightening. But you wouldn’t fuck up his life. You knew he would make it far without you. You gave him a sad smile and noticed both of their concerned expressions. 

‘Why?’ You see Blitzo mouth, and your eyebrows raise. He mimes tears, and you reach up and feel them. 

You quickly wiped them away and chuckled to yourself. You’re terrible at leaving, but you had to, and their entrance was fast approaching.

‘It’s fine, I’m okay,’ you mouth back with gestures to match. 

They look at each other before turning to look at you worriedly. They can’t do anything, though.  They won’t. They have their jobs to do. You watched Fizz grab the rope nearby that he would swing down on, but not before turning to look at you again.

‘See you after,’ he mouths before raising his voice to ask Blitzo if he is ready. You begin making your descent, and you walk out of the tent. You quickly grab your backpack and take off at full speed towards the tree. 

FIzz was the one who showed you this tree. You liked pretending it was a secret space just for you, but it was all of yours. You stared up at it, and you felt the tears come back. You were okay, though. This was for the best. You pull out the letter you wrote to Fizz and place it at the tree's base. You didn’t bother weighing it down. If it flew away, it’d probably be a sign. Part of you hoped it would blow away, just like you. You turn towards the main tent and notice the early leavers are already spilling out. 

“There’s the rest of the gift, Fizzy. I hope you enjoy it as much as I've enjoyed getting to know you—the both of you. You saved my life in more ways than you know. I know you’ll do great things,” you whisper as you turn to leave. You hear the sound of people getting louder, and you run—for the second time in your life. 

Your eyes focus on your figure in the mirror, and your mascara was running a bit. 

“Damn it,” you move to get tissue papers, “I need to stop thinking back. We’re all better off now.”

You look unconvinced in the mirror and try on a smile to trick your body into believing it is okay. 

“It’s fine, you’re okay,” you whisper. 

You hear a knock on your door, followed by the stage manager’s minute warning. You take a deep breath and look at yourself in the mirror again. 

You looked like a proper singer. You smile gently and head out to the club's backstage area. The curtains are closed, and you can hear the hum of music and people having fun. You hear the emcee announcing your act next, and you can’t help but think about how far you have come. 

You did it. You made it out.

The curtains open, and the spotlight lands on you.

I hope you all enjoyed this first chapter! I'm really pumped to get the rest of these chapters written and published. I don't have a set timeline since I'm currently in college, working a job, and performing in a theater production, but I will try to work on this whenever I can!

Also, just a little spoiler: in the next chapter, we will see someone from our main narrator's past (outside of flashbacks)!

Edit: The original name of this fic was "Dream a Little Dream of Me," but I have decided to change it to "I'll Be Seeing You" since this song fits the story a bit more!

[heavenlycloud]

the veil~ smau

pairing: huh yunjin x fem! reader, aespa 5th member fem! reader x huh yunjin

status: ongoing... ➸ 04/15/2022 // taglist OPEN

synopsis: making friends— that’s all you downloaded this new app for, that’s all the new app is supposed to be for. the original plan goes awry when you meet the girl that seems to be your perfect match.

genre: fluff, angst, crack, social media au, romance, comedy, strangers to lovers, idol au

starring: le sserafim, aespa, minji and hanni (new jeans), itzy, nana (woo-ah!), sieun (stayc), jurin (xg), shotaro (nct), heejin (loona), dosie (purple kiss), yeri (red velvet), felix (skz), gaeul (ive), somi, keeho (p1harmony), lily and haewon (nmixx), remi (cherry bullet), txt, lee chaeyoung (fromis_9), beomhan (fm entertainment), more

warnings: swearing, dirty jokes, lightly implied nsfw

fic notes: this is a work of fiction i made for fun just like my other works. i'm not assuming the sexualities, personalities, platonic/romantic relationships between any and all idols used in this fic. idols born after 2003 will not be frequently written in or directly involved with any romantic relationship/implied nsfw at any time.

author notes: this is my first smau!!! i've been wanting to make one for years and i finally found the motivation and confidence to do it. right now i haven't figured out an update schedule since i'm still in school, but i'll work on finding one if people actually want one. some chapters may be very text heavy opposed to tweets and messages just to contribute to the plot.

‎♡‧₊˚˘͈ᵕ˘͈‎ 彡♡ ༘*.ﾟ .·:¨༺ ʚ♡ɞ༻¨*:·.﹢࿐ ☆

┊┊┊┊°⋆ ꒰♡꒱⋆°

┊┊┊୨♡୧ ₊˚๑ * ⋆

┊ ┊˚εїз⋆ ༄

┊:·.♡☆°

before you begin please read the profiles, how it works, and introduction

profiles: the androids | the angels

how it works: the veil app

0. introduction: i got a match

i. one: hell froze over

ii. two: oh that bitch GAY

iii. three: the face of a cold blooded killer

iv. four: you think im cute? part ii. text + social media posts

v. five: hey bby gorl i want u

[sonicjustbecause]

Humans are hard to include in worlds filled by anthros (Sonic aestetic analysis)

Aestetic... a word I like.

This kinda work. Both of them have about same cartoonish proportions, similar head size, similar hands and feet size. The human girl has a thicker body and is bigger, but humans are tricky to include in a world with anthros.

The fact is, since we are humans, the specie is particularly familiar with us. What we are is written in our DNA. If you ask to a blind person to draw a fellow human, the drawing will turn out correct, the very same a person with normal sight woyld do.

So is tricky to avoid the uncanny valley and keeping them recognizable as humans. Humans are also rather large overall compared to hedgehogs and other beasts as specie. In fact we are included in the great apes group. Alongside the gorillas we are the also the tallest so pretty much big animals (but we are also slim).

Actual hedgehogs are as big as human hand, or so. Sonic doesn't need to be this small. Just more balanced.

Humans are always been a presence in Sonic world. Eggman is the most well known. And he has large hands and feet, like Sonic and the other. But his proportions are quite realistic and I think he should look bigger because actually, his head is smaller than Sonic's and the other...

In this scene from Sonic X it works well. Eggman's human features are exaggerated (like the typical human long nose compared to the flat noses of the other apes), and his head is about as large as Sonic's, making him fit the enviroment.

Those are very a little bit awkward. When I complain that the size are awkward is because of Eggman's small head.

This is no-no! She just doesn't match in the universe. Like, she belong somewhere else. Small hands and feet, anime proportions, vintage Italian style doll face...

Back in the '80s I saw some that were even closer to what Maria looks like. There were even drawings of girls who just looked like Maria around, some hanged on walls in my granparents home, I just can't find them not even online (the last time I saw them I was 16).

(Shadow likes those pictures...)

Surprisling Mario fits greatly despite being part of a completely different universe.

With modern style...

And even with SatAM style

Both in Sonic and Mario, humans tend to have small eyes.

Roundish head, large hands and feet, noodle limbs just like the beasts... Eggman obioulsy has small eyes. I figure them being about roundish, like Mario's.

Now, we see some human eyes there. A western aestetic just look better within Sonic world (the aestetic is pretty much western overall, being based on rubber hose style). Maybe hands and feet size could be more balanced...

I don't like Eggman having Majin Bu style eyes like in SatAM and AoStH. I've read somewhere he has regular human eyes. There (Archie) he looks as if he is possessed by an entity, so I wonder, Sonic should try to save him at this point? I imagine is to show that Eggman is a psychopath, but it doesn't do the job. The shape and size of the eyes is fine.

This is a joke... 'never mix styles' I was told 'Characters should look like they're part of the same universe!'...

Even Eggman was changed to have a realistic look, and it sucked.

Elise should be with Cloud Strife and Sephirot, not with Sonic, if we are talking about the style.

Outside Sonic series...

Top Cat

A human and six cats. They fit perfectly in their universe. Like Sonic, the cats are bigger than real cat, still smaller than humans. Heads look perfectly in proportions.

Now, here we are in the opposite territory. The feline is bigger than a human. In fact he is a puma.

Just to show how well human and anthro blend togheter in Hanna&Barbera works. In addition they also have actual four legged beasts, like Scooby Doo.

In Japan antros are rare, yet it can still work it the style is consistent. In Dragon Ball and Dr Slump we have plenty of anthro characters who blend well with humans. And there are also actual four legged beasts.

Some Japanese anthros

[juniperss]

This is Our Space

Darry Curtis x Reader

A/N: Based off of this gif and maybe a bit out of character but i mean....come on!!! Consider this an AU of sorts!

This was originally written on my main account a few years ago but I decided to move it here since I don't change this URL as often and it makes easier to find my writing! Also It's been a while since I wrote these so I'd like to think that I've improved somewhat since then!

Almost any other guy in the neighborhood would've been embarrassed to admit he was working as a dance instructor part time up at the lake over the summer. But Darry Curtis wasn't like the other guys in the neighborhood. People were either too scared of him or respected him too much to say anything, even the Socs left him alone for the most part. Only Soda had the guts to laugh when it was announced that the younger Curtis boys would need to keep the chores up at the house while Darry was gone.

“Hasn't it been like four years since you've danced?” Soda inquired once the laughter died down, plopping onto the couch next to Ponyboy. Darry ignored the question. It had been a while. He hadn't had much reason to dance after their parents died. Didn't have the time either. It hadn't been his plan to teach dance when he sent in an application for an extra job, but when the head of the activities department had seen his name and recalled how well he played ball, in addition to how he remembered his daughter fawning over him dancing at the high school formal, it had been sealed. So when Darry wasn't fixing houses or helping the grounds keeper with the cabins he was found in the back building reserved for dance lessons. But he wasn't going to shrug off the good pay he'd receive.

Setting up the studio hadn't been hard once he'd cracked the windows to let it cool off. The smell of the lake was carried on the breeze and if he closed his eyes he could almost imagine he was on a vacation instead of working. But that image of him with his fishing pole enjoying the sun on his face and the quiet around him was wiped away at the sound of the door squeaking as it opened. “Hi.” The greeting was soft, quiet, almost nervous at the notion of being there and as Darry turned around it seemed his intuition was correct. You were nervous.

“Hey.” It was a lame return of introductions but small talk wasn't really his area of expertise. For a moment the two of you stared at one another from across the room. He observed the way you fiddled with the strap of your bag that was slung over your shoulder, your fingers tugging absentmindedly at the pink material. You were most definitely a Soc, but there was an aura of humility about you that didn't make him want to retreat immediately.

“You can put your stuff down.”

If Dally was here he'd probably make a joke about the way your eyes widened or about the way you ducked your head as you carefully set your things down. But Darry only shook his head to himself before walking over to the stereo. “I'm Darry. You know how to dance? At all?”

“Uh I don't. I mean I can slow dance kind of....”

Darry had to bite back a sigh and instead settled for a small nod.

“Okay.”

“Those are spaghetti arms.” Darry corrected, his hand leaving your waist to grab your arm. His grip was firm, his calloused fingers digging into your soft skin. The room had been quiet since the two of you began going over the basics only the music playing in the background. He'd told you to ignore it for now and to focus on the movement. “Like this.” Darry nodded, a hint of a smile on his lips as your form improved. At least....you thought it was a hint of a smile. 

“This is my dance space,” Darry let go of your arm and motioned to the air in front of him before doing the same thing in front of you, “This is your dance space. I don't go into yours. You don't go into mine.”

Once again Darry took your hand in his and placed the other on your waist. The warmth of your skin didn't go unnoticed. You were watching your feet, trying to memorize the way he gracefully led you in the dance. It seemed so natural to Darry and you couldn't help but be impressed by how fluid he was. “Look up. Your feet will figure it out.”

His instructions were always firm and stern and at first it had taken you aback, but you realized as you forced your eyes away from the floor to look at him, that his eyes were softer than his tone. And that the way he held your hand and waist were intentionally gentle. Darry was less intimidating then he let on.

It had been two weeks since you two had started lessons and Darry was surprised that he hadn't grown to dislike you. Finding people he got along with was difficult as he wasn't talkative and his stoic expression and attitude tended to keep people from wanting to talk to him. But you seemed to warm up to him after the first day and though he wanted to be annoyed by your smiles and questions, Darry found that he was actually excited to come to class. He liked the way you still glanced down at your feet every now and then, more so now that you had accidentally stepped on his toes more than once, before you snapped your gaze back up to look at him with that shy smile. He didn’t mind answering your questions about his work on houses, talking about his brothers and the gang. He liked that you remembered little things like how he took his coffee and his addiction to chocolate cake. He enjoyed sitting on the deck, dangling your feet over the edge and sipping on lemonade when you two would take breaks from dancing. 

“Darry?”

He blinked twice as his eyes focused on your face. It surprised him how close your face was to his, the distance between you two almost non-existent, and instantly his cheeks flushed a soft pink. You were still following his lead. But when Darry went to step away the hand in his squeezed gently and held him where he was. The music continued and the technical dancing morphed into a swaying with your chest brushing against his, your fingers moving from his shoulder to the back of his neck until they curled into his hair. You were both surprised by the confidence that seemed to have taken control of you  body and for a split moment you wondered if you had gone too far and ruined the moment. Until Darry leaned forward to rest his forehead against yours, lips brushing against yours testing the waters that he so desperately wanted to jump into.

“Please...”

You practically pleaded, voice once again a whisper. He responded with the same firmness and care that he showed every time he took your hand in his, but with this kiss came an uncertainty that was new. You could taste lemonade on his lips and hummed sweetly against him, only parting when air became a necessity.

“You know...you're...you're... in my dance space.” You teased, stepping back away from him, mimicking his motion from the first day.

For a moment the joke hung in the air between the two of you until Darry laughed. It was a deep rumbling that started in his chest, warm and somehow comforting and exhilarating at the same time. The smile on your face grew and grew until you were sure it couldn't get any bigger before you too began to laugh as well.

[reverseblackholeofwords]

Not to be sappy on the tumblr dot org, but at the beginning of this year, I literally began to question if I was ever going to really write again. If maybe I just didn't love it anymore and I'd been wrong for years thinking it was something I would do for the rest of my life. That maybe somehow I'd just grown out of it at some point, or I just didn't have enough room in my head for it anymore.

Which is wild because I've been writing stories since I was six or seven. Like they taught Tiny Me how to form sentences in first grade and she took that pencil and ran with it. (My first ever story I remember writing was a Charlotte's Web fix-it fic btw, I'm not joking) But that's how much writing means to me, I'm twenty years into this now. It's been with me all this time, and in January I would've told you I didn't even want to try to write anymore.

It was maybe the most I've ever questioned my own sense of self, because I'd been forcing myself to write for almost four full years at that point and never felt that same sense of joy I used to when writing. I kept hitting my head against a word document trying to remember what I thought was so wonderful about this, and again and again I was disappointed and gave up.

And yet a few months and one (honestly kinda silly) hyperfixation later and I've written around 105-110,000 words just this summer. That's a full-length novel. That's more than I've written in the last four years combined. By a lot.

And the amount of joy it's brought me again? Just to remember what made me love writing in the first place? It's like stumbling over the other half of my personality I've been missing and going- Oh, there you are! Let's go, dude, we've got stuff to do!

All of this rambling to say, if you've lost the spark for that thing that you thought you'd always do forever, even if it takes almost four years like it did with me, give it time and give yourself some grace. Life sucks sometimes, we're all tired, and it takes a period of dormancy for your brain to rest up and recharge.

And then when you do find that weird or silly or angsty or whatever Spark of Inspiration, take that little guy and run with it. Go build it into a bonfire or wherever this metaphor is going. Have fun and revel in the joy of it again. Ignore anyone who tries to tell you that you're doing it wrong, it's your bonfire, dude. Toast some marshmallows or something, you deserve it.

[devondespresso]

Wiggly Worm Wednesday!! 🧠🪱

tagged by @little-annie this Wednesday, @pearynice and @hotluncheddie last time, @queenie-ofthe-void (and hotluncheddie again💕) the time before, and @carolperkinsexgirlfriend the time before that. Thank you guys so much for tagging me even when i can't get to it right away 💖💗💝

Lately I've been kinda swamped with fic commitments and rushing stuff last-minute (my own fault ofc 😅) writing mostly romance, so now im just itching to go back to my platonic stuff! nothing against romance, im enjoying writing it for sure, but god i can't wait to work on my Steve Henderson au again

for now tho the probably-never-to-be-written worms are about Steve bunking with the Buckleys post s4. maybe his parents just never came home, maybe they were there and had a big blowup argument with Steve about leaving, but they're not around now and Robins not about to let Mr Walking-Sepsis-Risk live alone for the apocalypse

in my head i imagine the buckleys house is kinda like max's before s4, a smaller 1-story but cozy, and no guest room so Steve stays in Robin's room.

her parents let them but they're definitely a little wary and a little lost but at least a little used to it, both thanking whatever power they believe in that no matter how freakishly clingy they are now, its still world's better than the violently freakishly clingy stobin was right after starcourt, when both of them looked to be hanging on by a thread and that thread was each other.

so they're like. chill. they plow through an awkward conversation about how bad an idea it would be to be up to something right now with steves injuries and robin sees herself out like halfway through, piling all the old stuffed animal onto her bed and keeping them there for the next week to avoid thinking about it. And Steve, abandoned by his partner in crime, stumbles through his own awkward explanation along the lines of 'you don't have to worry about that, i promise' before joining Robin in her embarrassed cringing-party, featuring notable guests such as Mr. Cat, Doodles, and Floppsy Bunny.

Not much of a plot in my head really, I'm just enjoying all the vague ideas floating around this premise. theres lots of details about Steve and his wounds, like wearing button downs that are easier to put on than pull-overs, Mr. Buckley letting him borrow some when Steve only finds a couple (or when he packs his normal clothes not realizing how miserable itd be to take them on and off constantly to check how things are healing).

Also Steve helping around the house and the Buckley's getting to know him better and not just the Polite Steve that they usually see because Steve couldn't risk his best friends parents not liking him (and because usually robin would go to his house, its a lot easier to sneak out than it is to smuggle someone in, especially with freaky upside down nightmares). Maybe Steve gets to actually joke around with Robin's dad, talk real shit with her mom (maybe about the future, hippie mom offering a different perspective on what life can be, how you can figure things out, just try things even if you don't have a perfect plan)

Steve finding safety not just with Robin, but with Robins family. the four of them growing this sweet relationship, not like a second child for the buckleys but more like a second home for Steve. stobin are firmly strange best friends to me (as opposed to siblings), and i like the dynamic of steve and robin's parents as 'my kids best friend' type stuff, not cause there's any less love but more like they're not trying to replace Steve's parents, they just end up filling in the gaps.

oki tagging presumably for next time (tho if you guys wanna do it late anyway you go for it, time isn't real wahoo): @marvel-ous-m @momotonescreaming @puppy-steve @lightoftheseraph @lingeringmirth

@writing-kiki @eriquin @scriptorbemi @sourw0lfs @soaringornithopter

@solarmorrigan @eddiethebrave @steddiecameraroll @imfinereallyy @yabakuboi

@kikidoesfanfic @tinytalkingtina @hairstevington @stellarspecter @sunflowerharrington

[emeraldgreenbeautiesstu]

MATT X READER PLS.

Then book shopping n it’s all cute n stuff 😻😻‼️

Bernard's & Noble

(see what i did there)

Matt Sturniolo x Reader

Word count: 749

Alexis speaks! : hey guys! thank you for the request (the more requests, the more stories i post 😉) i'm honestly not very proud of this one, but i've deleted it four times already and this is the best i got 💀 once again, comments and likes are greatly appreciated, it helps me know if yall like my style or if i need to change anything! pls don't steal my work, love yall!

-

"Matttt?" i whined from my spot on the floor. i was bored out of my fucking mind. Matt wanted the day to be a 'lazy day' and by that he means he wanted to scroll social media and youtube all day. that was not my idea of fun, i've always been a hands on person whether that be going outside for hours, to the lake, reading, anything other than being lazy at home.

"whattttt?" he mocked, sitting up from his bed, his hair all messed up and funny looking.

i chuckled. "your hair looks great." i smiled, climbing to straddle his lap and fix his bed head. "better" i smiled, kissing him on the cheek. "i have a business proposal."

matt sighed, "what do you want." he rolled his eyes with a small smile tugging at the corners of his lips.

i hopped off him, standing at the foot of his bed. "i vote we go to barnes and noble today, my book case is baren." i joked. four out of the five of my bookshelves were full completely. but you can never have too many books.

"y/n you have more books than i think i've ever seen anywhere else in my life." he laughed. matt pretended to be annoyed, but he knows the answer is yes. and not just to this scenario, the answer is always yes to everything y/n wants. she had him wrapped around her tiny little finger. "when do you want to go?" he gave in.

i jumped around the room a couple times, silently celebrated with myself. "right now silly." i said. i trotted into his bathroom where i have my own drawer of toiletries and such. i touched up my makeup and threw on my shoes. "ok i'm ready." i beamed up at him. matt basically towered over me. he's 5'8 and i'm 5'3, so there's a pretty noticeable height difference.

he slipped his own shoes on. "i'm ready." he smiled, grabbing his keys.

i just looked at him. "matt babe." i looked at his outfit. "we are not going anywhere when you are wearing basketball shorts and a wife beater. please change." i said, false seriousness evident on my features.

-

"oh my god i'm literally gonna shit my pants i love barnes and noble." i said, climbing out of the passenger seat. I made matt carry my three tote bags i have designated for my favorite hobby, book shopping.

"do i really have to come in." matt complained.

-

we had been at barnes and noble for an hour already, two out of the three of my tote bags were full. so full we had to put them by checkout because they were too heavy to carry. About 15 minutes in i had made a joke that i thought was hilarious, matt didn't really think so.

-

"haha, bernard's and noble." i chuckled to myself, but matt heard me.

"y/n i swear to god i will leave you here."

"deal."

-

i was finally ready to go, the final tote bag full. i couldn't find matt though. i wandered through the multiple sections of books, matt no where in sight. "maybe he did leave me here." i mumbled under my breath. until my eye caught matt. he was crouched down, one hand on the shelf, the other hand occupied with a book.

"whatchya readin?" i smiled over him. my heart melted when he looked up at me, a small smile on his face. i took this time to take in his beauty. the way his slight curls fell over his eyebrows, the way his middle part accentuated his face shape, the way his blue eyes went so well with his outfit. he was wearing the white shirt with 'whatever' in bold print written across it, and baggy light wash blue jeans, his keys dangling from his belt loop.

"some poetry book, i might get it it's kinda fire." he smiled.

"you read poetry?"

"i like finding the good ones and printing them out, i like to look back on the really influential ones." matt said. he stood up and took my bag, his hand resting on the small of my back.

"matt i don't deserve you, you're so sweet." a cheesy grin creeping onto my lips.

"y/n you deserve the world." he smiled down at me, kissing my forehead.

"ok now how are we gonna get all of these in the car?" i laughed.

-

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Flash Thompson Venom Recs

@vulpinesaint asked for some recommendations on getting into Flash-as-Venom, so I decided to put together a little guide. Mind you, this is geared towards already having familiarity with Eddie, and of course by extension the Venom Symbiote.

Now -- let me start by saying it may be helpful to see first where it all started going downhill for Eddie and the Symbiote (because we don't get to other hosts until after their breakup). Are any of those comics good? Not really!

But If you really wanted to you could check out Spectacular Spider-Man (2003, Jenkins/Ramos) #1-5 and Marvel Knights Spider-Man (2004, Millar/Cho) #5-12 or thereabouts, which will take you through the official breakup, Angelo Fortunato, and the introduction of Mac Gargan.

For a little taste of what the symbiote had been up to before Chosen Blond Man #2, I also recommend Dark Reign: Sinister Spider-Man (2009, Reed/Bachalo) #1-4 and Siege: Spider-Man (Reed/Santucci, one-shot, just because it's funny).

At the risk of being controversial I also rec the fabulous "New Ways to Die" arc (Amazing Spider-Man #568-573, Slott/Romita Jr.) for a peek at what's going on with Eddie during this time.

If you'd like a primer on Flash Thompson before you jump into Symbiote nonsense, you can check out Amazing Spider-Man #574, which is not a great issue but it is helpful to see what was going on with him. I also recommend the Amazing Spider-Man #622 B story "Stages of Grief" which IS really good and delightful.

Flash officially kicks off as Agent Venom in Amazing Spider-Man #654-654.1 (really -- there's a point-one issue). It's written by Dan Slott so it's not, you know, great, but if you've read Venom Inc. you know what to expect.

Venom (2011) is the real meat of Flash's time. He's kind of silly, as you can see, but for the most part I enjoyed this series. Does it have problems? Sure, but it's worth a read.. The first part (#1-27.1) is written by Rick Remender, and the second (#28-42) is by Cullen Bunn. The latter is, at least in my experience, better-loved for its introduction of Mania in #38, but they are both worth reading.

My personal highlights are: #2 (very good Flash/Symby at the end) #6-8 (Spider-Island tie-ins, you get to see what Eddie is up to) #13-14 (Circle of Four!!!) #17-22 (Savage Six, more fun with Eddie) #33-36 (esPECIALLY #35 oh my god #35 is everything to me. I'm normal don't look at me) #38-42 (Mania -- need I say more?)

I would also be remiss to leave out Superior Spider-Man (2013) #22-25 because while the story is.. meh..?? ...it does have some great Flash/Symby. I would live for them.

Agent Venom additionally appears in Secret Avengers (2010) and Thunderbolts (2013), but all I can really recommend here is the T-bolts Annual. It's a fun one.

And now we get into Cosmic Bullshit Shenanigans!

Flash and the Symbiote join up with the Guardians of the Galaxy (2013, Bendis) in #14, but are officially introduced in the Free Comic Book Day GotG special. My only recommendations here are #21-23, but they're big recommendations.

Once you've read #23, you can jump right into Venom: Space Knight #1-13 (R. Thompson), which is by FAR my favourite Venom series of all time and I'm not even joking. I can't even express how much I adore this series. WOMEN. I LOVE WOMEN. Just. Just read it. And then cry that it's only 13 issues

And from there, you know how it ends if you read Venom #150. Such was the end of Flash's time as Venom, but what a wild ride it was.

now we just need to get eddie on board with a third

If you're curious about Flash's story post-resurrection (he died, if you missed that from the Cates run) you can check out my little guide here, and also the most recent Carnage series by Torunn Grønbekk. What the future holds for Flash Thompson is up in the air (as it always is with Spidey's supporting cast) but I've got to have hope!

Happy reading!