#Maybe I wrote this up in less than an hour. For the funny.

[watatsumiis]

Patching You Up series (Capitano Edition)

(looks at all the other series I want/need to write more for)

(looks away)

(starts writing a new one)

Content: Capitano helps out a mildly injured reader! Gender neutral, injury is scraped knees and hands from tripping over. Light mentions of wounds, blood, etc. Reader is described as physically smaller than Capitano simply because he's a bear of a man. Reader and Capitano have an established relationship (can be read as platonic, romantic or anything in between!)

Capitano warned you, he really did. He'd informed you that the ground outside was slippery, that you should be careful and not run, but you simply couldn't help yourself upon spotting something that piqued your interest a few paces off the path.

Now, here you are, reeling as you recover from the shock of having slipped over. The pain hasn't quite begun to set in just yet, but you can see the rough scrapes and mud on your arms and legs already, and your clothing is wet from half-melted snow mush.

Capitano sighs - it's less of an annoyed sigh, and more of a pitying one. He's too kind to remind you that he told you so, and instead just walks up behind you. "Are you alright?" His voice is deep and slow, and rasps out of his helmet like slivers of wood being carved off of a branch.

"I...I..." you trail off as the pain suddenly seems to hit you all at once and you sit back on your haunches, looking down at your hands, beading with bright red blood. "I fell." You tell him in a soft voice, as if he hadn't just seen you tumble over.

Capitano makes a soft tutting noise, walking around beside you and extending his arm out, tilting his head to the side in a silent question of whether you'd like his help or not.

You reach out for him, and he's there within moments, wrapping his big, broad arms around you as he helps you up. You choke back a noise of pain as you stand and your scraped knees ache in protest, the scraped sensation feeling as if it's burning you.

To your surprise, Capitano doesn't stop once you're steady on your feet. Instead, he scoops you up, holding you bridal-style up against his chest. You shy away slightly to prevent his hard plate armour from touching your wounds and cradle your hands close to your chest.

Capitano adjusts his grip on you until you're as comfortable as possible, then turns a slow circle, observing your surroundings. When he sets off once more, it is most certainly not in the direction that you came from.

"Where are we...?" You trail off, blinking slowly up at Capitano, though you can't make out any features through the pitch darkness under his mask.

"Hunters cabin." He explains simply, and you can feel his voice reverberating in his chest.

The steady pace he walks at is soothing and repetitive, giving you something to focus on other than the pain you're in. The snow crunches beneath Capitano's heavy feet in a rather satisfying way.

It doesn't take you long to arrive at the cabin - it seems like it was once indeed someone's hunting cabin, but had since been repurposed for the Fatui to use on field operations. The door is unlocked, and Capitano lets himself in, ducking down slightly to get through the door.

The cabin is quaint and cosy, though it seems like it's been a while since anyone stayed here. Capitano sets you down on a rickety wooden seat by the small, round dining table (haphazardly adorned with a dusty, checker-patterned cloth), lighting some lanterns with flickers of some kind of pyro-magic infused device as he scrounges around for what he's looking for.

There's not really much for you to do except watch him as he bustles about, surprisingly quiet for such a large, heavily armoured man. You can feel the pain in your hands and knees throbbing, but force yourself to keep up a brave face.

By the time Capitano returns, he has a few items in hand. You open your mouth to ask a question, but the man before you is already tending to your wounds before you can get the words out.

He's shockingly gentle and careful, attentive to detail despite his thick gloves. He cleans up your hands first, applying antiseptic and bandaging them with a sort of tenderness that you rarely recall having seen in him before.

Capitano kneels down in front of you, then looks up and waits silently for your affirmative nod before rolling up your trouser legs to patch up your grazed knees - the sideways tilt to his head is almost reminiscent of a sad puppy.

"There." He hums, once the last bandage is secured around your right knee. Though it still stings, it feels better knowing your injuries are clean, and there's something about the careful attentivess he displayed when looking after you that makes you feel warm inside.

"What are we gonna do now?" You ask him, dreading his answer a little.

Capitano straightens up to his full height (so tall his head almost brushes the roof of the rather little cabin), gaze lingering on your for a few moments before he looks around the cabin slowly.

"I..." He reaches up to brush back a tightly coiled lock of his pitch black hair. "Suppose it wouldn't hurt to... Stay a while." He concedes, gaze travelling over to the food rations sitting in the small kitchenette before finally landing on you once again.

You feel small and exposed sitting here while Capitano pins you with his invisible gaze, but the gradual slope of his shoulders tells you that he's relaxing, which isn't something you often see him do. "Stay there." He tells you, his voice a little softer than usual. "I'll go see if there's any firewood."

Please don't repost, copy, plagiarise or otherwise steal my writing!!

[blondedmuse]

MISERY BUSINESS

felix catton x reader

synopsis. ꩜ based off of this request.

author’s note. ∿ i need this man so bad it’s not even funny. smut (fingering, oral f receiving, fingering, unprotected vaginal sex, praise, marking, voyeurism I guess idk) it's been a while since I wrote something on this account and its not proofread so be nice, also a bit of a rushed ending??

word count. ⨾ 2.7k

The harsh thud of the car door closing awoke you from your mid-day reverie by the lake. The sun was beaming down on you almost bare body, only covered by a bikini. It was hotter than usual and everyone else at saltburn seemed to share your complaints. The heat aside the weather was pleasant—Felix on the other hand looked less than.

He looked annoyed, almost upset, even from far away. When he exited the car Oliver and Felix went their separate ways, Oliver looking just as unhappy. You wondered what happened in just few hours that could’ve soured their moods but it was only a few moments later when Felix approached you, grinning in attempt to hide the scowl he was dressed in minutes earlier.

Once he reached your figure he towered over your body as you laid on the dock. Having well acknowledge the heat now and your lack of clothing he discarded his shirt and quickly lowered his frame over yours so that his was barely hovering over yours.

“What’s wrong?” You asked.

He shook his head with a small grin. “nothing.”

You scoffed. “Liar.” He raised his brows.

“What’s wrong?” You prodded again. He dropped his head in hesitation, his lip between his teeth as he contemplated telling you what happened on his and Oliver’s road trip, what he felt, what the truth was—but he couldn’t. Not yet anyways.

He looked up at you. “I- Oliver just said something and it hurt me more than I thought it would.”

You sat up, the two of you adjusting your bodies as you did so. You stared intently at his face, watching how his eyes glossed over and how he could barely hold your gaze. It was a different demeanor than what other people knew, one of the more human parts that made people fall in love with him.

You lifted his face towards yours. “I’m sorry.” The silence that followed after your statement determined he wasn’t interested in sharing anything deeper than the surface of the matter.

He looked back at Saltburn then back at you. “Don’t be.”

You scrunched your brows. “Hm?”

“I don’t know,” He said earnestly. “It’s not your fault, I should’ve listened to you earlier. You kept saying you had a bad feeling about him and I didn’t really take it to heart…til’ now I guess.”

“Oh, Felix,” You sighed, cupping his face, your hand over his jaw subliminally believing that it would release the tension he held there.

“He’s out tomorrow.” His hand caressed yours as it rested on his cheek.

“Really?”

“Really.” He confirmed. “Maybe now I can get you, alone, yeah?” His body pushed yours back down on the doc so he was hovering over you once again.

"Felix," You laughed. "Always distracting me, aren't you."

"No 'm not," he mumbled, nipping at your earlobe. "You weren't doing anything important anyways."

"I was going to ask another question," You giggled.

"Okay," He answered, pushing himself so that he kneeled above you, a knee on either side of your torso. "What?"

When he was playful like this he was such a beautiful sight in front of you, you almost felt bad asking him a question as if you were ruining the mood.

"You're not really kicking him out are you? I feel bad."

He sighed. "I am kicking him out and you shouldn't feel bad, he’s in the business of misery it’s almost like his job to make people feel bad." He crawled back over you once again, something heavier within him now. You could see it in the way he clenched his jaw, his clouded eyes. His mouth made its way back to your body, this time trailing down your stomach, beginning to leave marks you knew you’d have to hide at the party tonight.

“Felix,” You frowned. “I just-”

He cut you off. “Enough, alright. He was a creep anyways, you said it yourself,” He told you and you nodded, internally agreeing.

“He’s going home after the party.”

The feel of his voice as he mumbled into your skin was enough for you to stop thinking about the situation for the moment. It wasn’t until nightfall you were reminded of Oliver's unrelenting presence—it was his birthday after all. Still, no matter where you were in Saltburn, you couldn't help but feel a pair of eyes upon you, you couldn’t help but feel that you were never alone.

"Can we go somewhere a little more private?" You asked Felix and he hardly registered the question. His hands up your dress the lights were dim, colored strobe lights bleeding in from the outside. The room was close to empty but the music could be heard throughout the house. You could ask him anything to anyone and it wouldn’t really mean anything—and it didn't help that the two of you were getting dizzy on champagne.

So, you didn't ask you question again but your eyes flickered to the maze that could be seen from the window and he understood what you wanted.

"Whatever you want, angel." He grinned, pulling his hands away to grab yours, taking you to the garden.

You scrunched your brows together. "I should be calling you that y'know."

He laughed with you. "You have wings too."

"But I'm a fairy"

"Close enough." You laughed to yourself as you and Felix walked through the house and towards the maze. There was a bottle of champagne in your left, Felix’s hand in your right, grounding you with each step. The more the time passed the less ideal it felt to walk in heels—you thought of ditching them all together. Still, they held the integrity of your costume, matching the chosen Midsummer Night's Dream theme. You'd dressed up as a fairy, donning flowers in your hair and a frilly slip dress, the costume obviously incomplete without wings.

Your heels pierced through the dirt once you’d made it to the grass, your feet sinking slightly with each step. You groaned to yourself, not going unnoticed by Felix.

“You okay?” He asked, stopping to turn to you.

“My heels,” You answered.

He furrowed his brows. “What about them?”

“Well…” You hesitated. “They’re killing my feet and they keep sinking into the dirt. They’re gonna get dirty.”

“We’ll we can’t have that know can we,” Felix replied, picking you in on fell swoop, your body now in his arms, your legs dangling from his grasp.

"Felix," You giggled his named through broken laughs, surprised with the immediacy of his action.

"What? You know I'd do anything for my best girl," He told you, returning the wide lipped smile on your face.

"I didn't ask you anything."

"You didn't have to."

You went limp in his arms as you sighed, comparable to an act of defiance as if you were annoyed, as if he did something wrong; but you knew he couldn't if he tried. He shook his head but the smirk on his lips was undeniable as he carried you the rest of the way to the center of the maze.

"You're insufferable, won't even let me carry you," He carped, putting you down and letting you lean against the cold metal of the statue as you put the bottle of champagne on the ground beside you.

"I did and you love me," You retorted, inching your face towards his, leaving a sliver of space between your lips. The bronze on your back that chilled your skin was a stark contrast to the heat radiating from Felix's body, from the warmth of the air around you. It was intoxicating, his breath on your skin and the breeze of the wind. Looking up at him you could see that carnal glimmer in his eyes when his hands roamed your body only moments earlier, and this morning on the dock. It was something you craved and that was something he knew and savored the fact.

"Well I can't deny that," He smirked before closing the gap between the two of you. You could feel the indent of his grin as he kissed you, his lips turned up into a wicked smile, something more depraved, but still, nonetheless, Felix.

"Why don't I finished what I started earlier, love?" He asked against you not bothering to pull away and you only moaned in approval. His lips traveled from yours to the lobe of your ear so he knew you could hear him clearly.

"You need to use your words, darling."

"Yes," You keened, wanting—needing more than what was being given.

"Good girl," He hummed, his hands drawing down the straps of your dress before they traced down the rest of your body all the way to your thighs. He hooked his hands under them, lifting you to sit on the base of the statue.

"This okay?" He asked, looking into your eyes for conformation, the raise of his eyebrows encouraging it verbally as well.

"Yeah," You sighed breathelessly. "But I still need you."

He smirked again. "Let me fix that then."

Felix's hands gently lowered the front of your dress, exposing your breasts and taking one of them into his mouth, moaning around it.

"You're beautiful, darling" He mumbled, groaning as his tongue slid over your hard nipple. His words were genuine but you couldn't help but feel a little cheesy, kicking your foot playfully at his leg and you felt his erection, hard as you did so.

"And you know that already," He chuckled, sucking your nipple more aggressively. "But it's true." His words made you ache with impatience, whine with desire. Felix pulled back before lowering himself to his knees, his eyes not daring to leave yours. Only when he licked an agonizingly slow, sloppy stripe against your clothed cunt his eyes focused on the sight in front of him.

You breath hitched in anticipation as he pulled down your panties with his teeth and taking them off, shooting you a wink as he pocketed them. Immediately after his gaze moved back to your wet pussy, wasting no time in tasting you.

He dropped his head and his tongue slithered to your clit, flicking the pearl a few times before wrapping his lips around it. Your core was hot against his face, your scent, heady and electrifying; he could spend hours between your legs. Your hand went to claw at his hair, your fingers entangling with his brown locks.

"Ri-Right there," You breathed, attempting your best to string a coherent thought together, but it was hard when one of his hands massaged the outside of your thigh while the other came up to your empty hand. Your fingers interlocking, his thumb kneading the side of your palm as he sucked harder at your clit. You squeezed it as you released strangled moans, strained from the attempt to stay quiet.

"You can be louder, love. No one else is going to hear you except me." You didn't believe him, swearing you heard something in the bushes move along with the fact that there was a full blown party happening in his house right now; but you couldn't help yourself either.

He slipped two fingers into you, eliciting a lewd moan with ease. Your legs pressed together and he almost felt suffocated at the momentary feeling of being entirely enveloped by you—but it was exactly what he wanted.

"Oh God, Felix," You fingers digging deeper into his scalp and he groaned.

His movements were mindless and uncalculated, but they had you reeling each time. He knew your body like a book, where to touch to have your head spinning. The longer he spent between you legs, the louder your moans got, your hips helplessly bucking up to meet his fingers and mouth.

"Atta' girl," he murmured against you core. "Cum for me, love, I can feel you squeezing me."

Your movements got sloppier, raunchier, as your orgasm approached swiftly. It struck you like a bolt of lightning, your body overtaken with rapture and relief. Felix watched as you come down from your high, his fingers still working you over.

"You did so well f'me," He coaxed, finally removing his fingers from your core and scaling up your body, his moving to cling to yours and swallowing any soft moans you had left.

"Need you," You whispered as his lips nipped at yours.

"Need me or my cock?" He chuckled, drunk on you.

"You know what I mean," You replied, hands already to undo the buckle of his belt.

He stopped you before you could go any further. "I know, I just want to hear you say it, darling."

You rolled your eyes in annoyance, the smile on your lips indicating otherwise. His brows darted up, goading you on.

"Please?" He pressed and you exhaled in pleasure, in desire.

"Need you inside me, Felix." The corners of his mouth turned up into that smug smirk you've known for so long and he nodded in thanks.

"As you wish, my love."

He was rock hard, heavy and hot in your hands, precum dripping from his tip. You were just as wet and desperate as he reached down as he lined himself up with your entrance, sheathing himself inside you without another moment of hesitation. His arms caged your body under him as he hissed at the feeling. He gave you a a moment, letting you adjust to his size, his cock completely filling you up as he was buried deep inside of you.

"You're so tight," He praised as he kissed you, moaning into your mouth as he began to move. The pace of his hips started slow, gently rolling into yours, your clit brushing up into his pelvic bone at just the right angle. Felix tuned into how your moans falter when he hit just right spot, the sensation going straight to your core.

"Feels so good," You keened as you wrapped your arms around his neck, bringing him closer to you.

"Yeah? Tell me about it," He asked as he increased his pace, the speed of his pounding becoming relentless, evoking obscene noises from you. You wrapped your legs around his torso, heels digging into his back as you gave him the perfect angle to go even deeper as his cock hit your g-spot repeatedly.

You were sure your nails were going to leave a mark as they clawed into his shoulders while his hand slowly travelled to your core, rubbing fast circles on your swollen clit to help you reach your climax. You clenched around him in a manner so desperate, cunt fluttering around his cock. You didn’t have time to tell him you were cumming, screaming and sobbing as ecstasy hit you like a brick wall. You arched your back as his name fell from your lips again and again like a hopeless prayer. He followed suit seconds later, soaked with you as buried his head into the crook of your neck. He came with a strident cry as he bottomed out, filling you to the brim. You went limp under him as he panted weakly with his voice hoarse in your ear.

Still hazy from your climax your eyes widened as you saw Oliver walk into the maze. Felix didn't hear him, but he took note of your expression.

"What? Are you okay? What's-"

You interrupted him. "Oliver." Felix's head whipped around to the man standing behind him.

"Jesus fucking Christ!" Felix exclaimed and you pulled your legs from his torso and fixed your dress. Felix pulled up his trousers, buckling up his belt before fully turning to face Oliver.

"What are you doing here, mate? I mean, really?" You didn't say anything, composing yourself as Felix stood in front of you. Oliver opened his mouth to speak but Felix cut him off before he could explain himself.

"Actually I don't wanna fucking know, I've seen enough." He sighed and looked back to check on you.

“I think you should go,” You said to Oliver. “Before you do anything more to embarrass yourself.” The words were harsh as they came out of your mouth but you didn’t know what else to say. You watched as he walked away with his shoulders slumped, no doubt some guilt weighing them down.

“Are you alright?” Felix asked you, turning back around. You nodded still processing what had just happened as it seemed the champagne had worn off a while ago. You grabbed the bottle off the ground and held it up, offering it to Felix with a smile he didn't hesitate to reciprocate back.

"To Oliver's fucking party!" You laughed confused as ever, taking a swig of the bottle before he grabbed it from you.

"To Oliver's stupid fucking party."

[satinestales]

❝what was rule number #2 again❞ I.| bucky barnes x reader

pairing: tfatws bucky x reader summary: messing around in banner's lab, the night before your mission wasn't as good an idea as you thought, and you begin to question your actions the moment you step out of it. things worsen when you realize the super soldier serum isn't immune to an unknown contagious disease. warnings: sex pollen, no warnings this part, the II one? hahaha

a/n: I may have insulted the reader a few times in the beginning, so I apologize for that. but let's be honest, we'd do the same. I decided to split this fic into two parts because if I wrote it all into one part, it'd have 10k words. I'm not an english native speaker, so forgive me my sins and bad grammar if you find something.

m.list

You weren't stupid. But you also weren't exactly smart. If you were, you would've minded your own business, stayed in the gym, and went through the plan for tomorrow's mission. Maybe even go to bed a little sooner, to be ready for the next day's alarm. But Banner was away for a business trip, and seeing his lab silent and alone didn't exactly sing you lullabies to sleep. That's why you found yourself standing in the heart of it at 3 a.m., in your pajamas, praying everyone was asleep. It was well known around the compound that Banner's and Stark's labs were a faraway island, and anybody with a brain would circle around them. But you were an excellent swimmer and sharks didn't scare you.

10 hours later, you realised why Banner turned green every time someone even glared the glass door of his science play room. You were a fast swimmer but not exactly a bright one. The only bright thing related to you was that you were easily struck by it. And the glowing pink flowers in Doc's terrarium took you down faster than the sharks. It was bright pink with purple shadows. It reminded you of passionflower, but it was bigger. Way bigger, and you weren't sure if you were hallucinating, but the feeling of the flower's filaments moving was too strong. They were moving in waves, then circles, then each moved in its own way. It was mesmerising.

It was too late before you realized you moved the flower out of its enclosure to get a closer look at it. The smell hit you hard, filling your brain with colorful fog. You smelled a dash of cinnamon, mixed with ginger and lavender. You couldn't miss the powerful vanilla and pumpkin filling up the room. You didn't realize how bad the consequences of smelling Doc's flower would be until you came undone under your fingers nearly seven times. And it still wasn't enough. The scheduled time of your and Barnes' meeting was quickly approaching, and your skin didn't feel less on fire than it did two hours ago.

You managed to get out of the sweaty mattress and put some clothes on you, loose ones, hoping that your skin could breathe a little. You prayed some air would cool you down, clear your head, and slap some sense into you. It was now obvious why Banner was so determined not to let anyone close his lab. He was experimenting with aphrodisiacs, and you, unwillingly, became one of his lab rats. Thoughts didn't stop multiplying in your head until one landed steadily on its feet. Tony has been visiting Doc's labs the last few weeks, five minutes on the dot after curfew. You knew because you were always stationed on your balcony, which gave you a clear view of the other building, and its glass windows didn't hide much. It only became pitch black when Tony came in, and Banner didn't even flinch when he heard the door shut.

Chuckle left your lips when you connected the dots, ignoring how amusing you must look for Barnes, sitting right next to him.

"Something funny?" he asked, not dropping his gaze off of you. You were now on your way to the target's last seen place, being lucky enough to get a ride in Tony's self-driven car. You wanted to drown him in kisses because you can only imagine the suffering if you had to walk all the way from the compound to the other side of the city. Your skin was still on fire, your hair was sticking to your neck, and salty drops chased each other on your skin. You certainly were an amusing sight to Bucky. Or a terrifying one. You wished he got used to it by now. After all these years of fighting against each other, then with each other, and now forced to fight by each other's side, he saw you through worse conditions. But as far as he knew, you were locked in your room all week. You had no reason to look like you had an early meeting with the reaper.

"Just, thinking," you mumbled back at him, forcing yourself to keep your head rested against your seat, begging your body to not betray you for looking back at your partner. Your body fighting the chemicals in your body, you could only imagine how it would end if you stared at Barnes for more than five seconds. Worse, let alone if you touched him. You read about aphrodisiacs and scientists' failed attempts to know what you were going through. You were prepared to die before touching Barnes.

You were secretly jealous. It wasn't fair of you, but Barnes' serum running through his veins protected him from anything related. You almost abandoned your morals, but the pain you were going through justified it. You had no idea how you were going to focus on the mission, communicate with James, and, if it came to it, fight the target. You could only focus on the heat between your legs and how touch-starved you were. And your, undeniably, attractive coworker wasn't helping the case.

You and James had a complicated history. Both born in the 40s and dated for a while before he fell from the train. Years later, he comes to kill you for Howard's successful experiment on you. Immortality would definitely suit HYDRA and their planned assassinations. James, back then, the Winter Soldier, failed to capture you, so they decided your family's fate. And your friends. Then, years later, Howard's. You forgave him. All of it. Because you knew it wasn't him. But when he came back from Wakanda, with no traces of HYDRA in him, and didn't spare you a glance, you couldn't forgive him that. Seventy years of tolerating the actions HYDRA made him do, and he couldn't even look at you. It broke your heart but rather to act like a cunt than a weepy baby, begging for attention that will never come.

"Well then, do it fast. We're almost there." You hear his grumpy voice, making the butterflies in your stomach double their count. The decades-old memories of you together overwhelmed your brain like a tsunami. You couldn't swim out of that. The way his tongue circled your clit as you played with his hair at the theatre restroom. Or when he made you ride his face with Steve in the house. The way he pounded into you against the wall so you wouldn't forget him when he gets shipped out the next morning. And the way he had to cover your mouth that night at the bar, celebrating his unit's rescue. Now he was sitting millimetres away from you, and he wouldn't have done any of it. You still hoped, subconsciously, he'd dick you down like he did all those years ago. But that was a fantasy. Very vivid, real fantasy.

"Yes, sir," you let out, closing your eyes, tugging on your shirt so your fingers wouldn't accidentally slip in between your thighs. You didn't wanna make a scene. Even tho at some point, you knew you would.

You didn't catch James' hungry gaze when he heard those words slip from your mouth. At the back of his head, he reminiscent the amount of times it was him, slipping out of it.

It took you exactly 17 minutes before you got yourself out of Tony's car. You accidentally grinded yourself on his leather seats, causing you to accidentally moan, and of course, Barnes caught it. He'd never miss that sweet sound leaving your lips. At nights, he wished he'd made you sound like that, even louder. But that was ages ago, and you were over him. It was the only thing that made sense to him.

Five minutes into your romantic stroll to the target's office, the wetness in your panties got worse. You figured the more you moved, the less it hurt, but the pleasure doubled. And the Avengers training lessons didn't exactly cover how to act if you're orgasming every five seconds just because your thighs rubbed against each other.

Correction, you didn't actually cum. It was more of a frustrating edging that made you wanna rip out your hair. You were sure Barnes had already figured something was off or had at least suspected something. The suppressed moans and the tugging on your crotch weren't exactly subtle.

"Alright," he stopped walking, a few meters away from a huge building. It was surrounded by a deep forest, straight from a horror movie. "he was last seen inside. If Steve's correct, we should..." You kept nodding, not actually paying attention to what he was saying. It was the way his metal arm moved when he talked and the way his fingers curled while explaining the plan. You never got the answer to your question if he could feel through his amputated arm. He had to, you thought. You heard him groan every time someone pulled it too hard. You were embarrassed how much it roused you when you heard him whimper in pain, but it was also one of the things that circled your head when you were alone in your room.

You'd imagine, would it feel different. It would definitely be cold, rougher, you suspected faster. And with the serum running in his veins, he'd definitely last longer. That, you were one hundred percent sure, for it was Natasha's moans you heard for over two days after she and Steve finally hit it off. But Nat was also a super soldier. Bucky would probably tire you out by the 2nd round. But you were willing to risk it.

"If you're not gonna be listening to me, then you can turn around and go back." Was the first thing you heard after you forced yourself out of Bucky's hand around your throat fantasies. It probably wasn't the best idea, but seeing Bucky frustrated and annoyed by your incompetence made you feel things. And you wanted more.

"Whatever you want, Sergeant." You smirked, walking past him towards the building. His smell punched you in the face, making your walls clench around nothing. Fuck. Your self-control was harder to put in check. You were sure in a few minutes it'd be non-existent.

"Whatever is your problem today," you heard him behind you. You didn't look at him, focusing on keeping a steady pace towards the building so you could finish the job, get home where you could fuck yourself to oblivion. No one, but your fingers were currently available. And even they couldn't sometimes do the job you needed. But you knew whose would.

"I'm talking to you." Your heart dropped when his hand landed on your shoulder. Your skin got warmer again, and the pulse between your legs was impossible to ignore. You didn't know if you wanted to kill him or fuck him.

Ideally, both.

Turning around, you found the strength to twist his arm, finding out it was his human one, making it easier to push him back. He looked so taken back that it was amusing. But not amusing enough to stop the aching of your cunt.

"Touch me again," and I won't answer for the consequences. You wanted to add. But you didn't. Instead, you stared back at him, praying to god you'd drop dead or something would happen to stop the throbbing pain. You wanted to push your pants down and do something about it, but Bucky's presence wouldn't let you. It would, seventy years ago.

God, the number of times he made you rub yourself in front of him, fuck yourself while he watched. Couldn't he do it now? You'd happily obey.

"You've been acting distant ever since morning," he said, taking a step closer. "I just wanna know what's wrong," he said, lowering his voice at the end. You were sure it was just the stupid plant making you see things, but Bucky's dark eyes were hard to miss. Or the sweat on his forehead. Or the way he clenched his jaw when his eyes dropped to your lips.

Your heart sank. Holy fuck.

You couldn't help but laugh. It was, after all, comical. You looked manic but that didn't bother you. You felt so many emotions at once that you struggled to choose one.

"What the hell are you doing," you heard his voice interrupt your laugh. You were out of your mind. Your legs weak and sweaty, your cunt covered in your wetness, your head filled with migraine, skin on fire, and thoughts surrounding only one thing. And now, cherry on top, you realize Banner discovered an aphrodisiacs that make the super soldier serum its bitch. James motherfucking Barnes joined the lab rats of Banner's sex research.

[seresinhangmanjake]

The One I Want: Part 4

Jake "Hangman" Seresin x plus size!reader

Summary: You're new in town and some guy named Jake is about to be your roommate. Being skeptical of new people keeps you lonely and uninterested in any entanglements, but Jake is desperate to change that.

Notes/Warnings: cursing, maybe. I don't think anything else. Sorry if there are typos.

Words: 1874

The One I Want Masterlist

---

“Are you excited?” Jake asks as he hands you a cup of coffee. 

You take a sip and let the liquid run down your throat, then pull the cup away from your face to examine it. Your eyes dart from the caramel-colored drink to your roommate and back. He keeps getting it right, and you don’t know how. It’s as if you wrote the exact measurements of the contents of your usual coffee order on a sticky note and slapped it on the fridge so he had no choice but to memorize it. 

“Thank you,” you say. “And, yea…I guess so. It’ll be nice to have a reason to get out every day, but I have a feeling I'll be bored sitting around.” Which you’re perfectly fine with. A job is a job in your mind, and stumbling upon the gift shop across from the beach was convenient for both hirer and hiree. But Jake doesn’t need to know just how unfeeling you are toward your new job. You wouldn’t put it past him to try to unnecessarily cheer you up.

He’s done it a lot. At any hint of distress, you find him beside you. And as someone who finds themself lost in thoughts that allow anxiety or stress or pain to seep onto their face, it means Jake Seresin is often close. Which also means you are constantly at war with what your mind is willing to accept. 

There’s the suspicious part consuming most of your mind, telling you that people—men like Jake, especially—don’t go out of their way. Not for someone like you. But another itty bitty piece of your mind wants to believe Jake truly is this nice and caring. You wouldn’t hate to have that kindness in your life be a permanent fixture. 

Since you moved in you can’t deny that you rise each morning a little less worried about what the day will hit you with. And you know it’s Jake who has fueled that—indirectly, even. He has yet to comment on you or your body or your clothes or what you eat. Neither positively nor negatively. Though you do catch him staring from time to time, whatever he is thinking doesn’t leave his mouth, which is far more restraint than others have shown in the past. 

Jake shoves his hands into his sweatpants pockets and shrugs. “We usually take an hour for lunch. I could always stop by.”

“And do what?” You can’t hold back your snort, nor can you conceal the upturned tick of your lips. Your first smile of the day, light as it is, and Jake’s eyes fix on your mouth until you say, “Are you overdue for a new keychain or cheap beach snow globe?”

“I might be. Those snow globes are great,” he says with a grin, endearingly crooked. “You know, you shake ‘em around; snow goes all over the place.”

“Yes, I’m aware of how they work.”

“Well then you understand why I might want a new one,” he sasses, all but sticking his tongue out like a child.

You hum to hold back your laugh, not wanting to give him the satisfaction of knowing you’ve started to find him funny in the last few weeks. Something tells you his ego doesn’t need it. Then, with your hand extended you pass him the mug and make your way toward the door to grab your purse off the nearby hook. “I’ll try to remember that. Thanks for the coffee.”

You are almost out the door, out of his sight and so close to gaining the distance you’ve decided you need from him, when he calls out to you.  “Hey, do you want me to pick you up at the end of your shift?”

The smile you’d finally let free from his earlier joke falls, and you swallow hard, suddenly wishing you’d had the money to keep the rental car you used to get yourself from one state to the next. Though you’ll have hours away from him for the day, and the days to come, Jake coming to get you when you’re likely drained from boredom will instantly ruin the mental fortitude you’re trying to regain. 

You’d never speak it into existence, but your new job benefits you in more ways than one. After coming up short on last month's rent, you’ll finally be able to put a dent in the money you owe him—because you are paying him even though he doesn’t ask for it—but you were also banking on the separation giving you the chance to get your thoughts and pulse under control. 

Anticipation has wormed its way into your daily routine lately. You wake. Wash face. Brush teeth. Dress. Think of Jake. Scold yourself for thinking of Jake. Itch to see him, for reasons you’d rather not focus on. Get pissed for the rapid beating of your heart. 

You don’t need it. Not the unexpected thoughts, not the chaos of your pulse, not the disappointment in yourself for failing to learn from previous experiences. Thinking of him too often will fuck things up and leave you worrying about much more than just Jake or his friends or the odd stranger paralyzing you from a sudden comment or snide remark on how you look. Before you know it, you’ll be digging into the front pocket of your suitcase for the final two notecards and tossing a coin. 

“It’s only a mile-long walk,” you say, praying the unsteadiness of your voice isn’t detectable through the wall segmenting hallway from kitchen.

“So?”

You sigh. Definitely not the answer you wanted. You don’t know how to respond. There’s no excuse on the tip of your tongue, so you settle on, “Have a good day, Jake. Go save the country or something.”

—

You were spot on with that boredom prediction. Hours have passed and you’ve been forced to fill the time with menial tasks that might just be shrinking a few brain cells. Examining every item in the shop, counting every item in the shop, recounting the little squishy sea critter toys after a group of preteen girls lingered too long in that aisle. As someone so used to being on the move, each minute is slowly eating away you. 

With limited options, there are opportunities to let your mind wander and, eventually, you drift into your memories. When the urge to stop them arises, you’re shocked that you kick it back. And before you can talk yourself out of it, you’re grabbing a pocket-sized navy-colored notebook and a pen with a plastic seashell for a cap. 

A self-help book you’d skimmed a year prior suggested writing things down to process trauma and grief. The author-slash-therapist didn’t ask for well-detailed memories and feelings, but instead, a quick scribbling of the first things that come to mind. Despite how simple the task seemed, you hadn’t considered it. It seemed silly to relive the pain, to rip open wounds. Even poorly stitched wounds, you won’t deny, that left ragged and raised scars. You’d just been content with no longer bleeding. 

But recently, you’ve neglected a pulling; a string threaded and knotted into your heart with a force trying to tug it free from the confines of your chest. Though you know that would only serve one unenticing purpose, to demand you examine the organ and assess the damage time has worn into it, you don’t reconsider flipping open the cover of the notebook. 

With a free mind, you write down names, places, and towns. You write down words that were thrown at you. You write down the first time someone attacked your most vulnerable parts. And the things said and done that drove you out of one location and onto the next. You write until pages of white are filled with what could only be compared to an insane person's pastime. You write until another customer comes in just as the sun begins to fade. 

You feel her presence before you look up from the notebook in your lap, and when you finally do, you internally flinch at the sight. 

The pin-straight yellow strands of her hair reach a few inches below her shoulders, her lips are coated in bright red, and her eyes are enhanced with heavy dark shadow tones. She is tits shoved together, pushing cleavage out the low V of her camisole, and tight ass filling out tighter, dangerously short, shorts, and tiny waist a man could wrap his hands around and touch fingertips. She’s everything you avoid, and she pays you no mind as she makes her way to the mugs at the back corner of the store before heading for the t-shirts.

It’s obvious she entered with a mission when you find her not one minute later standing in front of you and setting the items on the counter. As you scan and wrap the mug and place it in the bag with the shirt, you don’t miss the similar words written across both cheap gifts. My Boyfriend is a Naval Aviator flows in cursive script over the chest of the shirt. My Girlfriend F*cks a Naval Aviator curves with the rounded shape of the mug.

You wonder if that boyfriend is one of Jake’s friends. Rooster does have a girlfriend and you have no way of knowing if this woman is his type. You kind of hope she isn’t. 

“It’s sixteen dollars even,” you mutter. 

She reaches into her cami and pulls out a twenty, slamming it down on the glass countertop that doubles as a display case for the slightly more expensive, yet still cheap, merchandise. The leftover four dollars are then shoved back between her push-up bra and breast. The bag is ripped from your hand and she promptly exits. 

That’s one way to end a first day, you think. At least it was one more thing to do with your time. Annoying kids, a notebook you’re not going to dare touch for a few days, and a woman with underlying anger issues who reminds you too much of your past. You deflate as you realize tomorrow is not likely to end up nearly as eventful.

Closing the shop is, thankfully, a quick process, because you’d like to make it back to the apartment before the moon and stars become your main light source. Walking home in the dark doesn’t suit you but you weren’t about to accept Jake’s offer knowing it likely wouldn’t stop there. First he’ll be picking you up, then it’ll develop into him dropping you off, then you’ll be hanging out with him and his friends every weekend. And then what? What good will any of that do you?

As it turns out, though, you don’t have a choice. 

Once the building door is shut and locked, you turn to find a black truck pulling up beside you. Your heart misses its next beat as fear grips you, but then you recognize the vehicle. The passenger window rolls down to reveal sandy blond hair, then green eyes, then sharp nose, then wide grin.

“You didn’t actually say no,” Jake says. 

Fuck. 

With a sigh and a roll of your eyes, you step closer, wrap your fingers around the car door handle, and pull. 

---

A/N: ended up having to do something tonight, so this part came a little early. I hope you liked it :)

tags: @wkndwlff @kmc1989 @sagittarius-flowerchild @dempy @oliviah-25 @rosiahills22 @xoxabs88xox @matisse556 @hardballoonlove @ssa-sadboi @lynnevanss @pono-pura-vida @tgmreader @amgluvsbooks @ravenhood2792 @djs8891 @shakespeareanwannabe @sailor-aviator @penguin876 @rogersbarnesxx @nani-kenobi @tgmavericklover @athenabarnes @emilyoflanternhill @wretchedmo @shanimallina87 @elite4cekalyma @buckysteveloki-me @shelbycillian @kissmethric3 @fox-bee926 @hangmandruigandmav @waltermis @fandom-life-12 @a-serene-place-to-be @bruher @cehenyne @tngrace @mamaskillerqueen @emma8895eb @benedictsvestcollection @blackwidownat2814 @himbos-on-ice @entertainmentgal8 @hookslove1592 @whoeverineedtobe @alwaysclassyeagle @chaytea06 @cherrycolas-things @turtle-in-a-tornado @have-a-nice-day-k @inkandarsenic @kidd3ath

[luvnami]

i genuinely don't know what overcame me when i wrote this. but here, have modern!au sanemi baking with reader. hopefully you think it's funny, because i'll feel less braindead

baking together is not romantic. the idea itself is cute. execution of said idea, however, leaves much to be desired. 

“sanemi,” you begin, because names are always a good place to start, “this tastes like ass.”

before you is a comically flat loaf of bread. the crumb is incredibly dense (if it can even be called a crumb at all), the crust is as hard as a rock, and you’re pretty sure the yeast packet you used was expired.

you don’t know why you thought that baking bread was an easy process, considering that both you and shinazugawa are amateur bakers. you know how to cook, sure. baking, on the other hand, comparatively seems like rocket science. 

shinazugawa stares at the fruit of his labour on the kitchen counter. he raps his knuckles on the crust once, then twice. it sounds like he’s knocking on a brick. 

“jesus fucking christ,” he mutters. 

his arms are sore from kneading the dough. you had quickly grown tired of it, learning that reaching that perfect ‘gluten window’ was harder than it seemed, so you left it to your boyfriend with his big, strong biceps. surely all those hours in the gym must amount to something, right? it also gave you an excuse to gawk at him, in your extra pink apron and his forearms flexing with each knead. 

your apartment’s kitchen is now littered with baking utensils. you’ll find flour in the strangest places for the next two months, but that’s a problem for future you to deal with.

“well, that was a bust. what do we do with this?” you sigh, crossing your arms. 

shinazugawa sucks on his teeth. he was planning to make something edible for dinner out of the bread, but that’s clearly out of the question now. 

“fuck this. we’re getting takeout. we can feed the bread to, i don’t know, the pigeons at the park.”

“the pigeons? what if they choke and die! babe, this isn’t even bread. it’s an abomination.”

“fuck the pigeons.”

you gawk at shinazugawa. he’s serious. he’s going to feed the pigeons your failed gluten creation and newsflash: you’re getting arrested for killing the pigeon population at your local park. it’s a life sentence. you’ll never make it out alive. even if you do, the pigeons will send their strongest army to peck you to death. 

“babe! the pigeons! you can’t just say that!” you cry out. 

you lunge at shinazugawa and start weakly beating at his chest. he snorts. okay, maybe don’t fuck the pigeons. he catches you and squeezes you tight against him, ignoring your appeals to him to maybe care about the birds a bit more (he could give less of a fuck about them, though. damned things had a knack for assaulting him for his snacks). 

you’re both covered in flour, wearing matching aprons, and you’re all pressed up against him. next time, maybe you’ll start with cookies first. shinazugawa makes a mental note of that. 

“c’mon, we’ll order your favourite.”

your eyes sparkle. you momentarily forget about the pigeons. 

“really?”

shinazugawa melts a little when you look up at him, eyes wide and expectant. how can he say no? thank god for failed bread and stray birds. 

he kisses your forehead.

“of course.”

[redrose10]

I’m going to be working on chapter 3 of Cold Brewed Love. I was really sick last week and then my toddler got really sick and we’ve just been a mess. But hopefully that should be out sometime soon.

…Last night I had a horrible panic attack. It came out of nowhere and was one of the worst ones I’ve had in a long time. I thought I was getting passed this but I guess not. So to get my mind off of it I wrote this. It’s something I’ve been thinking about for a while, but just never wrote out. It’s just fluffy and funny and cute. I hope everyone likes it and maybe it’ll help someone else feel better.

I don’t have a title so if anyone has any good ideas let me know!!

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

Yoongi x Female Reader

Warnings: Swearing, kind of suggestive, anxiety, depression, jealous Yoongi, little angst, maybe bad judgements against foreigners but not in a hateful way (when writing this I did it from the view of an American who speaks English because that’s me so I apologize to others who read that may not fit that role), also fluffy dorky Yoongi

Word count: 3,702

(I included one of my all time favorite Yoongi photos because why not)

When Yoongi first got his military assignment he was less than thrilled about it to say the least. How do you go from writing hit songs while traveling the world performing for thousands of people and collecting records and awards like no one else to sitting behind a desk entering numbers into a computer for eight hours a day? But he understands the why behind the reasons he has to do this, along with knowing that it is his duty so he is committed to completing his service to the best of his ability. He gets up early in the morning pouring himself a cup of coffee before he puts on his uniform and makes the short drive to the office location.

Whether it was pure luck or a carefully calculated choice by someone in charge he was thankful to be working in a quiet building just outside of Seoul. His department was on the top floor. His desk in a back corner, by himself, somewhat hidden away from view. He could show up, do his job, and leave like nothing happened. He was content with keeping to himself, minding his own business, and not going out of his way to make friends. Of course he was polite and friendly if approached, but he was never the approacher.

And then he met you…

When his senior manager told him that he would be getting a desk partner he nodded and politely accepted the change but internally he was irritated. That irritation only grew when he found out that his new partner was a foreigner who barely spoke Korean. His mind immediately conjured up this idea that you were probably some kpop obsessed fan who moved here on a whim. The only saving grace he thought would be that due to the lack of mutual language you both would probably not be speaking much.

He got to work a few minutes earlier than usual on the day you were arriving to work with him. For some reason he wanted to beat you there feeling like he had to lay claim to his portion of the rather large desk. Your computer was already set up next to him. He sighed as he unpacked his bag and began logging in for the day.

Then you arrived. Your work uniform similar to his. You smiled and introduced yourself and then sat down and got right to work. You didn’t freak out and tell him how big of a fan you were. You didn’t even make small talk. You put in your ear buds and turned on some music and got right to work. You brought in a heavenly smell with you of vanilla and sugar. He’s sure it would be called something like Fluffy Cloud Sweet Sugar Oasis and Grandma’s Cookies or something like that if they sold it at Bath & Body works. And he was ready to buy every bottle.

When work was over for the day you told him to have a good night and packed your stuff and left. Yoongi realized this new seating arrangement wasn’t going to be so bad after all.

The days went by much similar to that first day. You introduced him to your best friend Joon-Sung who worked in a different department on the second floor. The first time he met him Yoongi felt what he told himself was just some indigestion from his lunch because there was no way he was jealous of the handsome man that you so freely talked to and joked with until he heard you mention something about Joon-Sung and his new boyfriend and the indigestion somehow magically went away.

Then Yoongi noticed that he found himself feeling a little more excited each day for you to walk through that door. He also started changing his routine bit by bit. He styled his hair a little more, at least the little bit of hair that was slowly growing back after having to get it shaved. He started wearing cologne again, even buying the one he heard you mention you liked after someone walked by wearing it. His nights were spent brushing up on his English so he could better converse with you and in the mornings he started bringing you cups of hot chocolate or herbal tea after he heard you tell Joon-Sung that you were trying to lower your caffeine intake because your anxiety was getting worse.

Then his world came spiraling out of control at the realization that he might like you…like a lot. The last thing he needs right now is any kind of relationship especially with a foreigner. Like sure you were really pretty and very nice and you both communicated well even with the language barrier and you were taking Korean lessons so you were getting better. You had acclimated to living in Korea just fine. Joon-Sung often joked that you acted more Korean than most Koreans and that you were a Korean Ajumma in a young woman’s body.

Your best friend other than Joon-Sung was your 80 year old neighbor Mr.Park and his cat Mittens which lead Yoongi into remembering a story about how you and Mr. Park spent all day hand making cat toys to take to the animal shelter which made Yoongi’s heart swell with affection before he quickly shook that feeling away.

The more he thought about it the more Yoongi realized how much of your life he had grown to know and how much he looked forward to seeing you and talking to you.

And how much he talked about you outside of work.

“I don’t know man, sounds like you like her.”, Hoseok said while having a couple drinks at Yoongi’s on his day off from the military.

“I do not. She’s just nice. We have to work together. That’s all.”

“Mmmhmm sure, that’s why you haven’t stopped talking about her all night. Jimin mentioned that you even told him about her over the phone. And your ears are doing that thing.”

“What thing?,” Yoongi questioned already knowing the answer.

“You know…that thing where you ears get all red when you’re lying or embarrassed. And by how red they are I’m thinking it’s a little of both.”, Hoseok chuckled before taking a sip of beer.

Yoongi couldn’t like you. He’s only known you for a few months. He doesn’t fall that easily for anyone. He knew his last partner for three years before asking them out. He hasn’t even hung out with you outside of work yet. He had your number, but that was because you asked him for it to send over a work file you were going to complete at home. He’s never texted you outside of a thanks once he’s received it. Sure he’s opened up a blank message and attempted to text you something almost every night. That’s normal though. Right? He’s just awkward and you’re just a friend.

Then he saw you walk in for the day. You were carrying two bags of fresh baked chocolate chip cookies. One bag had Joon-Sungs name on it and the other had Yoongi’s. You made him cookies. He thought his heart was going to explode.

When Joon-Sung walked in to collect his package from you he started complaining about how he was going on a date with some guy who loved basketball so now he was trying to cram full of info to try and impress him. He showed you his phone,

“Who is this?”

“That’s Lebron James.”

“Is he any good?”

“Well he’s the highest scoring player in NBA history, he’s top 10 in steals and assists, and has four championships so yeah you could say he’s pretty good.”

“Okay and what team does he play for?”

You sighed, “He was drafted by the Cleveland Cavaliers in 2003 then he went to the Miami Heat for a while and then back to Cleveland and now he’s with the Lakers.”

Yoongi listened as you rattled off basketball facts like nothing with his eyes wide.

Fuck I think I love her, he thought to himself.

Yoongi tried his best to push any thoughts he was having about you far out of his mind. But you were all he thought about. How good you smelled next to him. How sweet your voice sounded saying his name. How you would feel underneath him with his body pressed against yours…

Realizing he was about to really embarrass himself at work he quickly started thinking about that time he accidentally saw his mom in her underwear instead hoping to change the direction of his thoughts but because his brain seemed to hate him his thoughts wandered back to what you would look like in this black lace number he saw was being released by some high end lingerie brand. Maybe he could buy it for you as a gift. Or would that be weird? Quickly he excused himself needing to get up and get a distraction.

When he returned to his desk Joon-Sung was gone and you were typing away at your computer.

“Hey can I ask you a question?”, you said, “I hope I’m not going to make things weird between us.”

Yoongi froze. Did you notice? Could you read minds? Oh my God Yoongi that’s so stupid, people can’t read minds. He was so in his thoughts he forgot that you had asked him a question until he saw you staring back at him.

“Of course, go ahead.”, he managed to squeak out.

“So Joon—Sung is having a party this weekend. He wanted me to ask you to come. It’s nothing big. He does them every few weeks. He’s just social like that.”

Yoongi’s not sure if he’s relieved that you’re not some mind reader or if he’s hurt that you’re only asking him to come because someone else told you to and not that you actually want him there.

But he agrees to go regardless because he wants to spend time with you.

Yoongi doesn’t like to judge people but he’s a little shocked to find out that Joon-Sung lives in one of the fanciest most elite apartment complexes in Seoul. Something about having family money so he works mostly to give himself something to do. Yoongi admits he’s a little impressed and also a little jealous.

He came prepared with topics to talk about. He researched the bands he always sees you listening to even though most really weren’t his style. He looked into your home city so he could ask you questions. And if all else fails he can rely on basketball as a speaking point. He can’t remember the last time he put this much effort into getting to know someone.

He takes off his shoes and walks into the main living area and immediately starts scanning the room for you. He spots you right away.

He takes a moment to look you over. The dress you’re wearing is much shorter and tighter than your normal work outfit. It accentuates every one of your curves perfectly. He sees what he thinks is a thigh tattoo poking out the bottom. He wants to see more of it. You look so good and he can feel his temperature rising. Fuck Yoongi get it together. You’ve been acting like some deprived horny teenager he thinks while making a mental note to call his doctor. Maybe his hormones are out of whack or something. This isn’t normal for him to feel like this around someone.

He watches as you’re happily talking to some guy. Some guy who’s like ten feet tall and made of pure muscle and looks like he was ripped out of beauty magazine. Maybe that is your type. Maybe he should introduce you to Jungkook. At least then he’d still get to see you after his service is up because you’d clearly not be interested in someone like him.

You’re laughing at something the guy said while placing your hand on his bicep.

Well this is something Yoongi never thought about. He was so consumed in his feelings for you that he never stopped to think about whether or not you liked him too or if you were even available. What if you’re already seeing someone? What if you’re happily married with two kids? He never asked you about your relationships since it felt too personal at the time. He feels like the room is spinning as he is trying to find another route when he hears you calling his name.

You walk over and wrap your arms around him in a hug, “I’m so glad you decided to come.”

He smiles feeling some relief as you lead him to the kitchen to get a drink and something to eat.

You’re both eating a piece of pizza when you ask him a question.

“This is random but do you have a nickname? I mean besides Suga or Agust D of course.”

He shakes his head.

“You look like a Yoongles. Has anyone ever called you that?”

“A few fans have online but that’s it.”, he chuckles.

“Well I think it suits you. Or maybe Yoongily Boongily Bear.”

“Okay” he snorts trying to fake indifference but in that moment he realized that he’d let you call him Captain Dumbass if you wanted to just so he could see your smile and hear your giggle again.

Yoongi had gone to talk to one of your other co workers for a while to give you a break from him since you’d been attached at the hip. He was coming back from the bathroom when he noticed you were nowhere to be found.

Did you leave already? And without even saying goodbye. That hurt a little more than he wanted it to. He didn’t get the chance to ask you about your hometown. Now he’s stuck with all these useless facts about some city he’s never even been to.

Just as he was about to give up and head home someone moved the large curtain hanging against the window and he recognized your figure leaning against the balcony outside. Slowly he made his way there.

“I thought you left.”, he said when you turned to look at him after hearing the door open.

“No it was just getting to people-ish in there, I needed a break.”

Yoongi felt bad for intruding on your space.

“Oh I’m sorry. I’ll go back inside.”

He felt electricity shoot through his body after you grabbed his hand and pulled him over to the railing, “No stay. I like spending time with you.”

He felt his heart skip.

The two of you stood in silence for a few moments while staring down at the vast city below.

“I like to look out at the city when I’m overwhelmed or when my anxiety gets too much.”, you suddenly spoke, “I like watching the lights, seeing all the people move around. Some going to work, some coming home. Couples going on dates. Some people are down there having the best day of their life while others are having the worst. It’s comforting in a weird way.”, you chuckled, “To know you’re not alone out here in the world.”

Yoongi looked you over quietly. He didn’t know you struggled so much with anxiety and feelings like that. He knew you had anxiety which is why he never got you anything with a lot of caffeine, but he thought it would just make your heart race or something. He didn’t know you suffered so harshly from it. You always seemed to calm and put together. He felt a strong urge to just wrap you in a big fluffy blanket and give you a kitten to hold as he cuddled you close while telling you it’ll all be okay.

“It’s funny actually. I never really listened to your music before I met you.”

Yoongi gasped dramatically acting extremely hurt.

You giggled, “I know. I mean I knew of you guys and such but it wasn’t really my thing. But when I found out I was going to be working with you I wanted to know about your music and having something to talk about with you. Honestly I went into it not having high expectations.”

Now Yoongi was genuinely a little hurt but he knew everyone was entitled to their own opinions and feelings and that’s why music was so great.

You continued, “I was taken back by how real your music was. How full of emotion and the raw feelings you conveyed. Your song The Last, man I cried after hearing that. To see someone struggle as much as you did with mental health issues and still come out on top even though you had to fight for it. It gave me hope. Maybe one day I’ll be okay too.”

Yoongi thought about every funny scenario he could. That time Jin shoved an entire donut in his mouth and then accidentally coughed it all over Namjoon’s face or that time his brother slipped on some ice and conveniently landed right in a giant puddle of dirty water like he was in a cartoon. Anything to stop himself from crying in front of you.

“Then I listened to Snooze. And that song has become like my anthem. Any time I feel the walls closing in on me or I think I can’t do it any more I play that one and I can feel the gray clouds being pulled away and the sun shining down.”, you chuckled, “You have got to introduce me to WooSung by the way.”

Yoongi laughed with you but deep down he knew he was NEVER introducing you to WooSung unless it was at your wedding after you’d already exchanged vows and kissed and you were officially Mrs. Min Yoongi. Then MAYBE he might let you meet him…from across the room…over video chat.

“I’m glad my music could help you so much. Any time I hear something like that it gives me the motivation to keep going too.”, he said not really sure how to comfort you in that moment.

“How did you do it?”

He look at you confused.

“How did you heal yourself?”

Yoongi found himself chuckling. Not because he thought it was a funny question or anything but he never thought he’d be answering questions like that.

“I mean I don’t know if I’ll every be fully healed. At first I used alcohol. I’d drink until I wasn’t coherent enough to feel. Then I switched to working myself until I was so exhausted I didn’t have the energy to worry. But now I go to therapy and take medicine when it gets really bad. I use music as an escape without overworking myself. I also surround myself with people who I know are good for me. I think that’s really important.”

You nodded in understanding.

“Thank you Yoongi. For helping not only myself but also yourself and the millions of fans around the world.”

Fuck he wanted to kiss you so bad and and hold you and make sure you never felt another ounce of sadness ever again.

This conversation kind of killed the mood admittedly though. You just opened up to him about something that must’ve been difficult and he can’t just be like oh hey by the way I want to date you and hopefully do unspeakable things to you one day so do you want to go out with me? That would be really insensitive.

Instead he was going to simply invite you to hang out as friends, offer to be your support and see where it goes from there.

“Hey Y/N…”

Just then the door swung open and a very drunk Joon-Sung came stumbling out.

“There you are. I looked everywhere for you guys. I figured you were blowing him in the bathroom already.”

Yoongi choked on his spit and felt his entire body heat up at that statement.

“Did you tell him how you love him and you think he has the prettiest eyes and the nicest smile and the cutest little butt?”

“Go.to.bed.Joon-Sung.”, you hissed.

“Alright alright, but if you two are gonna fuck use the spare bedroom. I paid too much for my couch for there to be naked ass cheeks on it.”, he slurred before stumbling back inside.

You turned back around and continued to stare out at the city below. Yoongi thought you were handling this well. If it was him he would’ve already jumped over the railing from embarrassment.

“I’m sorry.”, you whispered when he came up next to you, “I didn’t want you to find out like that. It’s gonna be weird between us now. Monday morning I’ll ask for them to reassign me to a new department.”

“Y/N”

“Hell I’ll even move out of the city.”

“Y/N”

“I’ve heard Busan is nice.”

“Y/N”

“Just please don’t write a song about me. I don’t think I can recover knowing my most embarrassing moment is being retold on stage as seven guys do some extreme choreography while wearing coordinating outfits.”

Y/N!”

Finally he got your attention. He couldn’t help but smile at how flushed you were.

“Can I kiss you?”

“What?”

He used the new boost in confidence from knowing that you liked him too to take a step closer to you. So close he could feel the warmth of his breath bouncing back off of your skin.

“Y/N…Can…I…Kiss…You?”

You didn’t say anything but nodded which was all he needed to lean in placing his lips on yours. It’s cheesy but he felt like fireworks were going off. His senses were overloaded with you. That familiar sweet vanilla perfume you always wear. The softness of your lips. The taste of the pizza and hard cider you had earlier. It made him feel like he could fly.

“So you think I have a cute butt huh?”, he smirked against your lips.

“Seriously? That’s what you’re going to remember?”

He stepped back putting his hands up in defense, “Hey listen, you don’t even want to know the things I’ve thought about your butt over the last couple months.”

“Yeah well maybe you can show me instead then huh.”, you smiled pulling him in for another kiss.

“I would be happy to”

[thesuperiorrobin]

𝐚 𝐠𝐨𝐚𝐥 𝐦𝐚𝐝𝐞 𝐰𝐢𝐭𝐡 𝐥𝐨𝐯𝐞~

Pairing: HockeyPlayer!Damian Wayne x Reader

Word count: 1.9k

Warning: mentions of blood, slight cursing, might not be accurate to real ice hockey so I apologize in advance.Damian being a demon on the ice, I wrote Damian OOC, mostly likely, he’s just in love

Damian looks flawless in ice, I’m just going to put that out there. I know he would.

He gets a bit carried away, ramming people up against the walls. That’s what he’s known for when he’s on the ice so the other team tries to stay far away from him, but also try to take the puck from him. Never really works out.

Always get penalized for it too and put in penalty for 2-5 minutes. Is pissed off at that for no reason.

The MAIN reason why his team wins. (Most of the time)

Really loyal to his team. If the opposite side ‘accidentally’ hurts his teammates he’s the first one to skate over to them. Might throw the first punch but it depends 🤷‍♀️ (100% will throw the punch no matter what :))

He gets hurt a lot. Whether it’s him digging with other or simply ramming into thing to hard , theres bound to be blood, a lots of it sometimes. But he always comes back with bandages around the wounds or maybe stitches.

If he does get hurt he puts out a little signal that only you know telling you he’s okay.

His signal in telling you that he’s going to make a goalie and dedicate it to you is literally stopping right in front of you and placing his gloved fist on the clear barricade, giving you a grin.

Buys you the tickets to go to his game. You never miss one. That’s because he says your his lucky charm during the games. That’s why his team wins all the time.

First row right next to his team where he can keep an eye one you and hold small conversations before it’s his time to go back on the ice

Likes to show off.

A lot. Only does it to impress you 

Gives you the puck he made a goalie and won with (is that allowed?)

The crowds get louder and louder as the seconds count down. You're anxious and you don't know why. Damian’s team and the opposing team are tied with points. You’ve noticed Damian’s actions get more violent as time goes on. The more violent he got the more penalties he got which is a time out on the benches. Which means the other team gets a chance at scoring a point without Damian roughly ramming them against the wall. You’re cheering him on as he glides against the ice, but soon find yourself taking a break from the yelling.

Your eyes follow his figure as he glides against the ice, hockey stick in hand as he moves the puck back and forth against the base of the stick. There’s another figure coming for him, one from the opposing team. You cringe, knowing what’s about to happen to the poor person.

Lucky it wasn’t another penalty, but you would hear the crowd gasp witnessing the sight for what seemed like the nth time in less than twenty minutes. But, every time he did get a penalty and put in the penalty box, or as you call it the time out box, you can’t help but laugh. Knowing that Damian was put out for being rough much like how a small toddler would be put in the corner for not listening at all. It was always such a funny sight. Damian rams into the person hard, knocking him down.

“OH!” Dick says from behind you “that’s gotta hurt!” You know he wasn’t talking to you but you hum and nod. Dick and the others know first hand how rough he can be, having been practicing with him last time it didn’t end will with. “I think he gave him a concussion” Tim was also behind you sitting next to Dick, while Jason was no where to be seen.

‘Probably went to go shove his face with food’

Despite being on the other team you feel bad for them and the bruises they’ll be getting the following day. Not to mention the sore body’s they’ll have to work through. You’ve been sitting in the same spot for more than an hour with each game period being at least twenty minutes long, with fifteen minute breaks. Maybe they were shorter but you really couldn’t tell.

Damian misses his shot by a few inches away from the goalie, not being able to stop in time he slams himself up against the wall, the people behind it cover their mouths out of shock and you slap your forehead, shaking your head as you watch him brush it off and continue to play. However, his coach calls him out to replace him with another teammate. He compiles but has a sour look on his face, once he reaches the dry ground he throws his stick. Clearly angry and frustrated all you could do is watch for a while as he takes off his helmet, hair slightly damp from the sweat—giving him helmet hair, all messy and pointing in different directions. It makes you laugh a little. But your sudden mood changes quickly as he sits down head in his hands—running over his sweaty black locks. You don’t think twice as you tap on the screen that keeps his and your row apart.

Damian has good hearing with a small sound so it wasn’t hard to hear you tapping away. He turns to your directions, giving you a small nod. You frown and tilt your head down a little and he rolls his eyes knowing what you're implying and gives you a forced smile. You give him a thumbs up as he scoffs, he watches carefully as you pull out your phone and type away. His eyes never leave you until you place your phone, screen side up against the clear glass divider. Green eyes squinting as he reads away:

‘don’t worry. You got the next goal. I know it!’

That sentence alone makes his heart swell. Damian takes off his right gloves and pats his chest—right where his heart would be two times. A way of saying he appreciate the small gesture.

You take your phone off the glass and erase the previous sentence replacing it with a new one—placing it back on the glass: ‘Have a plan for when you get back on the ice? He quickly reads and nods his head. At least he has a plan, you thought and place your phone back in your pocket. Hands shaking for the cold and lack of warmth you had for them considering the fact that you had forgotten your mittens at home. You focus your attention back on the game. The opposite team ahead by one point— but Damian’s team can do good without him for a while.

He’s out for about half of the game until his coach decides to replace him with another one of his teammates. He taps on the glass to get your attention and once he has it, he Winks at you before making his way back on the ice.

“So are they losing or what?” A familiar voice says beside you and you turn your head, Jason takes his seat next to you with two cups in his hand. “Where the hell have you been?”

“The line for hot chocolate got long” he hands you one “I got you one too, know you stressing over the Demon playing Disney on ice right now” the warm drink warms up your hands a little.

“Thanks. That’s nice of you Jason” You ignore the comment and he hums before he takes a sip of his one drink, eyes scanning the ice before he yells out with the audience. Someone from the Damian team made a shot and they’re tied with the other team.

You go back to cheering him on, the warm drink soothing your throat from all the yelling earlier. It’s later forgotten as you place the half empty cup on the ground right beside your foot— watching the minutes pass by quickly like seconds.

Your heart skips a beat, and not in a good way when the other team shoots their shot but thankfully they fail. With time becoming shorter and shorter it was only a matter of time before Damian took matters into his own hands and his teammates are quick to learn to stay out of it when the time was cutting short and they were off by a point or two, or in this case tied, They had faith in him and so did you.

The seat is now cold from your absence, you’re up on your feet cheering and screaming right along with his brothers who seem to be cheering louder than you. Your eyes glued to Damian as you try to keep up with his figure. He has the puck, sliding it back and forth against the curve of his stick once more.

You don’t have time to think—especially when his helmet makes a horrible sound right up against the clear barrier as one of the players from the opposite team slams into him harshly. Right in front of you as you flinch back. Cheering can be heard from the opposite side of the ice rink which is where the other team supporters were.

Your side falls silent, few gasps and murmurs could be heard. Damian’s back up on his feet, his gloved fist pressed up against the clear barrier. His eyes locked on yours with a glint of mischief and something else. One of those grins grace his lips, one that makes you smile as he waved at you before he leaves.

He’s much faster this time and it makes you think if he was slacking off all this time—or maybe it was the adrenaline that runs high in his veins with these last few minutes. He was going to make a goal, dedicating it to you. Your body feels warm and your heart skips.

“ Ohh~ I know that look” Jason teases from beside you, Dick and Tim are leaning down giving you cheeky grins.

You roll your eyes trying to hide the smile that tries to form itself on your lips “I don’t know what you mean.” You play stupid as you glance back at the game.

fifty seconds left of the last game, everyone seemed to be cheering and calling out those who were on the ice. Damian pays no mind to his teammates as they let him do what he needs to do. You cheer for him, calling out his name. Despite there being hundreds of others yelling out at the same time his mind blocks them out, every single one of them but you. they get louder the minute he gets ahold of the puck swiftly, quickly making his way to the goalie.

His main priority was to get the puck around the goaltender and into the net. He was doing this all for you and you knew that. Those fifty seconds go by quickly, as if you’ve blinked and when you open your eyes ten seconds we’re now left. Everyone counted down, even you. It felt like time went slower once it hit that five second mark, you’ve quiet yourself down and the only thing you can hear is the sound of your heartbeat in your ears. You watch Damian has he left up his stick and takes a hit.

Pointing and loud gasp could be seen and heard, half of the ice rink goes quiet—as if the loudness would mess up his plan. Right as the Puck glides under the goaltender and into the net the timer makes a sound—indicating that the game is now over and Damian scores a point, officially breaking the tie. Relief washes over you, hands thrown in the air as a yell of excitement leaves you as Damian’s brothers cheer alongside you. The other side slouches, defeated as your side basically rubs it in their fasts by how loud they were being, but you didn’t care.

A win is a win.

You can see Damian, as he is pulled into a group hug by the rest of his team, some patting his pack and some patting his helmet and shoving it gently as a gesture. The part you don’t notice is him escaping from the group and skating to the Net where he had thrown the puck before he picked it up, waving it in the air like some sort of trophy—however, in this context, it was. He shows it off with pride, making his way towards you.

With a loud yelp you’re picked up by the others, Jason, Dick, and Tim, as they lift you up until you're basically above the spectating glass. Your lover stands below on the other side with his arm stretched out high, he waits. With the help of the others, they hold on to you as you lean done and over the glass.

Your own arm stretches down as you grasp the puck in your hand. His gloves are now off and so is his helmet, his hair pointing in all directions much like earlier when he was away on a penalty, his warm hand grasping yours with the puck still in your hand

“I did that just for you, habibti!” Eyes glistening, you Can’t really tell if it’s from his sweat or his love for you.

“I know!” You laugh “I love you!”

“And I too, love you!” The crowd fills itself with loud cheers and small ‘awes’, watching the sight of the son that belonged to billionaire Bruce Wayne was a rare sight to see, considering how he would rather keep private about his relationship with you.

His warm lips connected to the coldness of your knuckles , making a mental note to bring an extra pair of gloves just for you in the future.

“If you lean down further you’re going to eat shit”

“shush I’m having a moment here”

“just saying”

Tried to make it as accurate as possible bc, again I know nothing about ice hockey. I had googled the rules and watched videos

And god knows how many references pictures I tried to find about hockey. Probably spend like an hour trying to find them just to draw Damian :|

I will be taking a short break from writing requests just bc school is starting in like a few days or so. So I can get my life together and actually have time to mentally prepare myself and fix my schedule seeing as I’ve been up most night until 6 am and waking up at 2pm.

[dodger-chan]

Wrote a couple of short pieces between refreshing the hurricane tracker and passing messages to relatives in Florida (all fine but without power). (part two)

“Worst song?” Steve asked.

“Easy. John Cage’s 4’33”. Most pretentious piece of music I’ve heard in my life.” Robin slid another tape into the rewinding machine and started it up. “Worst crush?”

“No, I need to know more about this song that you think is too pretentious.” Steve leaned against the counter, ignoring the returns he was supposed to be checking in. “I’ve never heard of it.”

“Well, it’s essentially four and a half minutes of not playing music, so arguably you have heard it,” Robin grumbled. Under other circumstances, she might go in-depth into chance music and ambient noise. But Steve was only asking about it to avoid answering her question. “C’mon, Stevie, worst crush?”

“Uh, pass?” he asked. Robin kicked his ankle lightly.

“No passes in Worst, Dingus,” she pointed out. Best had a pass for some reason, but Worst didn’t. You had to name your personal worst and at least one reason. No lying.

“It’s gonna hurt your feelings.”

Robin rolled her eyes. She already knew about the crush he’d had on her. And if it wasn’t her, she could handle him naming some other girl she’d liked or been friends with that His Highness of the Hair hadn’t found cool enough to ask out.

“My feelings can take it. Anyway, aren’t you a heartless asshole who doesn’t care about other people’s feelings?” she teased him, reaching over to muss his hair. He caught her hand mid-air with his stupid jock reflexes and scowled at her. “Steeeeeve.”

“Eddie Munson.” The name came out sharp and quick. Steve dropped Robin’s hand and turned his back to her, like he was focusing on the returns.

Oh. Shit. That did hurt a little.

Steve had crushed on a boy and hadn’t told her. Had let her go on about her fears and feelings of isolation for weeks without a hint that he might share them. Had he not trusted her to love him despite their similarities? Or did he think them both liking girls was okay, but him liking guys was too different?

The rewinding machine clicked. She swapped out one video for another.

It was the second one that bothered her more. If Steve didn’t trust her, well, she didn’t like it, but she got it. She still hadn’t told her parents, even if she was ninety-nine percent sure they wouldn’t love her any less for being gay. If it wasn’t about trust, though. If Steve had limits as to how much gay he could accept and saw himself outside of them? That hurt so much more than any bruised feelings.

“Ugh, he’s so obnoxious. I see why he’d be Worst.” Robin tried for a casual tone, tried to match that easy acceptance she’d heard from Steve in that filthy mall bathroom, about midway through the worst forty-eight hours of her life to date. “You could do so much better. Like, um, Milton Bledsoe.”

“Milton Bledsoe?” Steve stared at her with skepticism. At least he was looking at her.

“What? He’s nice. He was probably my best friend before he went off to college and I met you. He’s funny. He’s really smart and creative. A total music nerd. You like nerds, Steve.” That sounded a little accusatory. She toned it down. “Also, he’s good looking? I think? I’ve been told he is. By people who were trying to set us up, so maybe they were overstating it. Honestly, I have no idea what makes a guy attractive. It’s probably all subjective, anyway.”

“Munson stepped on my lunch, once.”

“Oh?” It was a bit of a non-sequitur, but Robin could roll with it.

“Yeah. He was giving one of his big speeches and somebody - Sawyer, I think - tried to knock his feet out from under him and Munson stumbled right onto my lunch tray.” Steve made a face. Robin could sympathize. As much as she agreed with the thematic content of Eddie’s dramatic orations, she was a firm believer that shoes should be kept away from food. “I don’t remember what I said to him, but I remember him looking down at me, smirking, and telling me if I asked nicely he might let me lick his shoes clean.”

“Gross,” Robin agreed. “And rude. That definitely qualifies him for Worst.”

“No, Rob.” Steve glanced nervously around the store. It was just as empty as it had been all afternoon. Still, he lowered his voice to a barely audible whisper. “That’s when I realized I liked him.”

Oh. Wow. The shit she was learning about Steve Harrington.

[lum13]

Her ways of loving you

Her ways of loving you.

Wednesday Addams x fem! Reader

Letting you sleep on her shoulder. 

“Red carnation means love, while yellow carnation means rejection. Now, can anyone tell me—“ 

You blinked slowly, too drowsy to focus on your class. With all your assignments, you were not able to get any sleep last night— and the caffeine you consumed was not helping at all. 

You yawned, straightening your back, trying to wake yourself up. But it was no use— your eyelid just got heavier and heavier as minutes passed by, and you knew you couldn’t stay awake for long.

With thirty minutes left in class, your head flopped onto your girlfriend’s shoulder— you passed out in less than a second.

Wednesday went stiff by your sudden touch— furrowing her eyebrows in confusion. She snapped her head towards you, only to be greeted by the view of you sleeping— eyes closed, soft breathing ticking her nose. She stared at your sleeping form for longer than necessary, before focusing back to class.

She ignored the looks her classmates gave her the whole session.

2. Walking with you, shoulders brushing against each other.

“—and Enid, she nearly threw her phone in the lake! She was like—“ Giggles rang through the hallway as you laughed at the memory. “Enid is so funny. No wonder she’s so popular!”

Wednesday only hummed in reply, watching you talk excitedly. You turned to look at her, grinning softly. 

“Anyway, how was your day?” You asked, “I haven’t seen you at all today. Having different classes can be a real pain sometimes.” 

“Horrible.” Came a reply, making you chuckle. “You always say that. Some originality, please?” You teased, before looking up to the sky.

The sky was dark, but studded with shimmering stars. The moonlight shone over you and your lover, like a giant spotlight on a stage. 

“Huh.” You let out, “It's a full moon.” 

Wednesday’s eyes followed yours, before tracing back to your face. 

“Beautiful, hm?” You sighed out, admiring the view. 

The raven haired girl only brought herself closer to you— shoulders brushing— in response.

3. Her writing time, with your playlists

“—I never knew— you could hold moonlight in your hands, ‘Till the night I held you—“ 

You were on your girlfriend’s bed, flipping through the pages of your book. The familiar melody rang in the room, making you hum to the tune. 

“These lyrics are going to make me throw up.” Wednesday said monotonously without stopping her typing. You laughed, closing your book and putting it away on the nightstand beside you.

“Imagine that it’s me singing the lyrics. Maybe it’ll help.” You smiled jokingly, “Although I could never beat Ariana’s singing, she’s too good.” You gushed, lying down to face the ceiling. 

A moment passed before your girlfriend’s voice interrupted the comfortable silence.

“It still makes me nauseous.” 

“However, it made the song less agonizing to listen to.”

4. Being with you when you cry

You curled up into a ball against the wall, unable to contain the cries that threatened to slip past your lips. 

You wiped your tears with the back of your hand, but the tears kept coming, and coming, and coming..

You flinched when you heard someone approaching. You could tell it was your lover by the sound of her footsteps.

You felt her sit down beside you, her eyes straight ahead, without saying anything at all.

The two of you sat there until you were too tired to cry, until your hot tears dried up, unmoving throughout the whole process. 

“..thank you.” You whispered with your hoarse voice, finally turning your head to face the raven haired girl.

She met your eyes, and looked at you with her signature blank expression. 

But you knew the difference. Her eyes were softer. Her body wasn't as stiff as usual, and most importantly, she didn’t pull away when you reached for her hand. 

Although only the tip of your hand was touching the other’s, you could feel what she was trying to say.

‘I love you.’

And you loved her too.

-

this probably doesn’t make sense since I wrote this in an hour at 3am!! Forgive me for being so cheesy I hate this.

Also the song mentioned in this is <moonlight> by Ariana grande!

[fandxmslxt69]

Here For You

Jake Lockley x f!reader (Steven Grant x f!reader, Marc Spector x f!reader mentioned briefly)

Warnings: Some swearing, negative self talk um...Jake being so <333

A/N: Can y'all tell I'm running out of GIFs to use I need to rebuild my collection. ANYWAY. This is funny because y'all REALLY liked the first soft Jake Lockley (thank you!!) and i literally wrote that one in like 2 hours and this one took a week + editing and I actually don't like it a lot but...here it is? I will probably write fluffy comfort stuff for the other boys + other characters but that will be to come <3 I'm gonna tag a few people who really liked the first one in this but please don't feel obliged to read!! THANK YOU <3

-Clem

Synopsis: You were starting to feel the negativity creep up and take hold of your mind again, but luckily, Jake is always there to make you feel better.

Word count: 1529 (mm.)

Bad days sucked. Everyone had them, but sometimes it really felt like the world was out to get you more than it was there to help. You were in the kitchen, cutting up vegetables as you waited for Jake to get home from work. It felt childish, to feel so out of your skin, but your mind couldn’t stop running through every small awkward thing that happened, or every wrong step you’d taken.

Maybe you should start working out more.

Maybe you should eat less.

Maybe you need to find a better job. 

Maybe you did need to get better clothes.

Maybe you needed to start putting in more effort. 

Maybe you weren’t doing enough, despite feeling so drained from all the work you did. 

Maybe you needed to just do better. 

You shuddered, feeling the icky feeling snake through your body and cover your skin in an uncomfortable layer. You sighed, putting everything down as you dug your palms into the edge of the counter, stretching out and taking a deep breath. 

It’s okay. It’ll go away soon.

You screwed your eyes shut, trying to ease the overwhelming ache in your chest. It grew and took your body captive, settling a heavy weight over your shoulders and on your heart, making your mind feel sluggish. “Cariño?” You heard Jake’s gruff voice before you saw him as his arms wrapped tightly around you, holding you steadily and pulling you into his chest. He still had his gloves on and his work jacket, and his voice was laced with concern. “Cariño, are you okay?”

You took a deep breath, leaning your head back as your body melted into Jake. “Mm…yeah,” You mumbled halfheartedly. You hated doing this to him. It was like a broken record. Everything was perfect until one bad day led to all three boys running and crowding over you to make sure you were okay. A day led to a week, and sometimes when you felt really shitty, even more, and it just left them extremely worried and on edge. You always tried, you really did, to keep it at bay and try to keep the bad days away, because you hated seeing them worry and you hated how it always came back no matter how hard you tried, and it made you feel like you just couldn’t be properly happy. It made you feel horrible and guilty for worrying them so much. But bad days always come, no matter how hard you try and of all three, Jake was always the first to catch on. He noticed the way the tension started building, how you’d start sleeping less and isolating yourself. It became clear signs that he tried to catch early, but it slipped sometimes, out of the blue and it constantly made his heart hurt to see you ache so badly.  “Yeah? You sure?” He pressed his lips to the top of your head. “Yeah…I’m sure. Just a little off,” He hummed. “Yeah? Why?” You shrugged, turning around to wrap your arms tightly around him. “Dunno. Bad day I guess,” “Aw, poor bebita,” You could practically hear his mind whirling a million miles an hour trying to run through the past few weeks, to try and maybe catch a problem. You felt horrible, because you had no way of explaining to him that there is no problem, sometimes you just didn’t feel good- but he found that hard to understand. If you were upset, there had to be a reason, right? And he’s going to search for that reason so he can find a way to fix it. 

But when you don’t give him a reason, it makes him feel useless and that makes you feel even shittier. 

“It’s okay!” You tried to reassure him quickly, pulling away to give him a small smile.  “It’s fine, please don’t worry about it. I’m just being a burden again,”  His face quickly changed from a soft pout to a confused look. “What?”  You frowned, detaching yourself from him. “What?”  “The-” He shook his head. “Burden? Who said you were being a burden?” “No one! No one said-it just slipped, bad habit right?” You tried laughing it off, noticing the way he frowned deeper with concern with every passing second. You quickly turned back to making dinner, trying to ignore him and the suddenly awkward conversation. “Amor.” He said firmly. “Hm?” “Look at me,” “I’m cooking dinner, I can’t,” “I’m serious,” “So am I,” 

When he didn’t offer something back, you thought you had won the argument, until you felt his strong arms wrap around you tightly, lifting you and effortlessly placing you on the counter. He reached over and turned off the stove, before turning his attention back to you as he placed himself between your thighs, hands firmly gripping your waist as he searched your face. “Alright princesa, no more avoiding confrontations. What’s up?” “Nothing,” You tried pushing him away, but he wouldn’t budge. You tried wiggling away, but he held you right in place. “Jaaaakeeee,” You whined. “Let me go right this second,” “Absolutely not,” He pouted, his big brown eyes melting into the biggest, saddest puppy eyes you’ve ever seen a man pull before. “Put those away!” You covered his face with your hands as you looked away. “Mi vida por favor…” He trailed a lazy kiss down your jawline. “Tell me what’s wrong,” You grumbled, feeling the fight dissolve in you. “That’s the thing. Nothing is wrong! Everything is perfect! Job’s going great, money is awesome, life’s going absolutely wonderful and yet for some fucking reason I’m once again feeling like shit, even when everything’s going right!”  He deflated a little, surprised by your outburst. “See! You’re even stunned speechless,” You ran a hand down your face, sighing heavily. “I just- I’m constantly dumping my problems on you and you’re forced to put up with them, even when you have your own issues to deal with. I mean- for fuck’s sake Jake, you just came home from work and you’re probably exhausted and need to rest to go out again later tonight and instead of letting you rest and giving you something to eat I’m sitting here complaining and whining!” He looked at you for a solid minute after your outburst, eyes roaming over your face as he stayed silent. “You really think you’re burdening me?” “I-...” “Don’t you always tell us it’s okay to ask for help?” He shook his head, his hands rubbing your side gently. “Why do you go back on that when it comes to you, hm?” He smiled but there was a hint of sadness in his eyes. “You’re allowed to ask for help, bebita. Especially here,” 

You hummed, kissing him back. “Okay. I’m sorry, I shouldn’t be worrying you so much,” He shook his head. “No more apologising. We’re gonna go sit on the couch and talk, and I’m gonna order food-” “-But-” “No buts,” He pressed a soft kiss to your lips. “And we’re just gonna chill, okay? Until you feel better,” “I don’t deserve you,” You felt your eyes tear up again, and this time you didn’t bother trying to stop as the tears fell over the edge. You weren’t sure why you were crying. The joy of having him by your side? The feeling of relief, knowing you don’t burden them? The overwhelming sense of love you feel for this precious, devastatingly handsome man?  Probably. “I love you,” “I love you too, and we’re here, I’m here for you, through anything and everything, got it?” You nodded and he kissed you again, before pulling away and smiling softly. “Now. Food?” You laughed, feeling the ache that engulfed your body earlier starting to make room for absolutely unfiltered joy. “Yeah, food sounds good,”

[withacapitalp]

Countdown Pt 2

Follow up to this thing I wrote yesterday

People always acted funny when they saw his timer. They usually reacted in two ways- either they tried to pretend that they didn’t see it, or they said how sorry they were. 

That’s not enough time. 

Oh I wish you had more time. 

Only a few days? I’m sorry honey. 

But Steve had never been upset about it. Sure, he only had less than a week with his soulmate, but that only meant that their time was more treasured. They understood that they had to make every second count. 

Wasn’t that a good thing? 

“You’ll understand someday, Steven,” His mother had said quietly into her wine glass one night when it was just the two of them at home. She was sitting on the couch, flipping through their photo album idly, holding Steve hostage with stories about how good things used to be. How in love his parents were, once upon a time. How happy they used to be before the job, before the promotion, before the big house in Loch Nora. 

(They really mean before they had him. Not that either of his parents will ever admit that) 

“You’ll understand,” She repeated in a whisper, taking another long sip. 

“What will I understand?” Steve replied. Usually he tried to stay as still and silent as possible on nights like these, did his best to pretend like he didn’t exist, waiting for her to finally wave a hand and release him to his room. But this time he didn’t get it. 

“You’ll understand that this? This is a curse,” She spat out, holding up her right arm and showing him her timer. All zeroes. His mother’s soulmate had died when he was ten, but her timer had counted down. She had met him at some point in her life though. She knew him, but she hadn’t lived a life with him. Whoever he was, he had died alone.  

Steve had always wondered about that, always wanted to ask. If she knew who her soulmate was, why not be with them? If she had found that person, why not make every second count? 

“It’s a curse,” His mother had said, continuing when Steve didn’t say anything in response, finishing what was left in her glass, “Especially yours. I remember the first time I saw your timer. It was right after you were born. I was holding you against me, you were so little then, so sweet, and I looked down, and I saw it. Five days. What kind of God would only give my baby five days? Not a good one,”

Steve wasn’t exactly sure what kind of God was out there. If he was being fully honest, he wasn’t sure he believed in God at all. 

He believed….in the universe. He believed in something linking them all, something that knew them and wanted them to find the person that completed their lives. The Universe knew that Steve and his soulmate were strong enough to handle five days, four hours, and twenty two minutes. That unnamed unexplained universe knew that they would know what to do with that time. 

Steve had plans for his five days, four hours, and twenty two minutes. 

When he found that person, the first thing he was going to do was hold them for at least five of those minutes. Steve loved hugs, and his parents hated them, but his soulmate would love them too. He knew that for sure. 

So a five minute hug, and then he’d ask where they wanted to go. The two of them would travel to wherever his soulmate wanted. Steve had the money, he’d been saving every single birthday and Christmas check he had gotten since he was nine. By now, it was more than enough for two tickets to anywhere in the world. 

They would spend the whole plane ride talking and getting to know each other. They would laugh, probably a little too loudly, and annoy everyone else around them with how infatuated they were with each other. 

Maybe they’d go to Paris. Stroll through the city, eat pastries, stuff like that. Maybe they would end up in some remote part of the world where it felt like they were the only two people on the planet.

Maybe they’d just stay in Hawkins. Hole up in his house, listen to records, swim in the pool, or lie in bed all day. 

A hug, possibly a trip, and after that it was up to his soulmate. Steve wasn’t going to monopolize their five days with just his ideas. He had a bunch of suggestions if they didn’t know what they wanted, but those were the only two things he really cared about. 

He didn’t hug his soulmate when they finally laid eyes on each other. Steve didn’t even realize his timer had started counting down. 

He was too busy thinking about the broken bottle being held against his neck. 

By the time he and Eddie both realized that their timers had started, they were already in the thick of things. Steve had seen it while Nancy was wrapping her sweater around his waist to try and stem some of the blood coming gushing out of him from the bat bites. He had put both hands in his hair just to try and give himself some other pain to ground with, and his timer caught his eye. 

It was already on three days. 

He had only met one new person in the last two days. One new person who always hid his timer under a leather cuff around his wrist. 

Steve did go through with his plans, but it was a funhouse mirror version of them, twisted and wrong. 

They did hug, but it wasn’t something soft or intimate. Eddie had woken Steve up from a nightmare on their second to last day, and Steve had laid in his arms shaking for two of their final forty eight hours. 

They did go on a trip of sorts, if stopping the apocalypse in an alternate dimension counted as a trip. They went, but they didn’t stay together. 

God, if Steve had a chance to do it all over again, he never would have let Eddie out of his sight. 

There was no avoiding fate, no changing what The Universe had planned. Steve has always been aware of that. He’s known that as fact his entire life. But still. Maybe things would have gone the way they were supposed to if they had been together. 

Because it was supposed to be him that died. 

His entire life he had known it was going to be him. 

Steve has imagined it a thousand different ways. A random heart attack, or a freak accident, maybe even saving his soulmate’s life somehow. He had never even thought to consider it might be his soulmate saving him instead. 

It was perfect. Dustin and Eddie would be far away from the danger, and Robin and Nancy were going to be just fine. Steve had no idea when it was coming, but it was going to happen in this final fight. They would win and he would have to do something stupid to make sure they did. Something off plan that would end up killing him. 

Except, he didn’t do anything that wasn’t in the plan. 

It went off without a hitch. Well, there was a pretty scary moment where there had been vines around his neck choking him, but the rest had gone exactly as they wanted it too. He and Robin had torched the monster, and then Nancy shot him in the head. 

Vecna was dead, burning to ash on the floor in front of them. They did it. They actually fucking did it. 

The elation of that was unlike anything Steve had ever experienced. The bone deep relief of knowing everyone he loved was finally safe, that this was finally over. That he had somehow lived to get to see it all. 

He had lived. 

He…..he was still alive. 

Steve hadn’t even thought to look down at his timer. He had been so busy just reacting, being in the moment of the fight. The fight was over. They had won. Everyone was safe now. 

Steve was still alive. 

He looked at his timer. All zeroes. 

How long had it been all zeroes? 

Steve took an experimental breath, and then another. Still breathing. Still alive. He looked down at his wrist. Still all zeroes. It was like he was looking at a puzzle with only one piece left, holding that last piece in his hand, but unable to make it fit for some reason. There was just something that was so wrong. 

There were two options when it came to Timers. You died, and your timer vanished, or your timer hit zero, and your soulmate died. There were two options. 

Steve had just never considered the other one. 

And by the time he ran out of the Creel House, it was already too late. Steve knew that. He was running anyway. He wouldn’t believe it until he saw Eddie for himself. His mother’s voice filled his ears the entire time. 

“You’ll understand that this? This is a curse,” 

Steve had promised himself he would never think about his timer that way. Promised that he would never be like his mother. 

But she might have been right about this. 

[delusionalbitchinthehouse]

please tell me everything you want about ifrit and alpha i love your thoughts!!

ok here we goooo ! This is sooo long lmao

So obviously Alpha was Ifrit’s mentor, and despite both of them being fire ghouls, they’re quite opposite.

i already wrote some angsty Alpha & Ifrit thoughts, so I might be repeating myself a bit here but yeah, Alpha is the raging fire fueled by acidic resentment and bitterness, while Ifrit is the comforting, crackling bonefire, full of energy and optimism. (That’s not to say that’s ALL there is to them obviously, Alpha is fiercely loyal and cares much more deeply than he let on, Ifrit has deep self-worth issues, but that’s not the first impression that you get of them)

While Alpha was Ifrit’s mentor, he started off reluctant, unsure if he was the best suited for this task ; him, the impatient, hot-headed, stubborn ghoul, to teach a bright-eyed, clueless thing, one that despite all his efforts, Alpha can’t help but see as his replacement - because he is, and it sort of hurts ?

Turns out, though, Ifrit is not that clueless. He’s bright, a tad mischievous, easygoing and overall good company. Alpha discovers an enthusiastic, hard working student, fast learner and a bit perfectionist. Too funny, too charming, too endearing for Alpha to keep his distance, keep pretending he’s only doing this because he has to.

They do butt heads from time to time, but Ifrit backs down pretty fast with a shrug, even when he knows he’s right - no need to rile Alpha up more than reasonable.

But more than the lessons and easy banter, more than the flirty comments - the first time it happened, it left Alpha quite stunned, the audacity he had never expected in Ifrit. He liked it, though. Very much so - more than that, it’s Ifrit readiness and enthusiasm at the idea of sparring with Alpha that really brought them together.

Nothing better, to get close to somebody, than rolling around on the mats, all sweaty and disheveled, right ?

Hours spent throwing themselves at each other really sealed the deal, then.

Alpha feels protective of Ifrit, obviously. He’s his mentee, his responsibility…and maybe a painful reflection of what Alpha once was, or what he could’ve grown to be -more carefree, less burdened. There’s a part of himself, that he hates, that’s still a bit bitter, though, about being replaced. Alpha burries it deep, deep, and pretends it doesn’t exist.

Ifrit, of course, looks up to Alpha, but he also desperately wants to help him, tend to those bleeding, festering wounds that Alpha is riddled with, pretends he can live very well with. (He cannot. He’s barely coping, and Ifrit sees it).

Later, tho, when they are no longer mentor/mentee, when they are both retired, their relationship shifts a bit. Ifrit gets bolder in his teasing, more purposefully trying to get on Alpha’s nerves ; Alpha let himself be rougher around him, no longer trying to smother his sharp edges as not to frighten the new fire ghoul - who is now not so new anymore. Oh, he still calls him « kit », ruffles his hair and that sort of things, but he’ll also snap and growl, not afraid anymore of driving him away.

Ifrit also stands his ground more, not letting Alpha have the last words if he’s wrong. And if Alpha thought Ifrit’s flirting was bold before, oh boy is he worse now.

They know - truly know - each other better now. The darker parts too. It’s still hard for Alpha to confide in Ifrit - he still feels like he has to spare the younger fire ghoul, but he gets there, as much as Alpha is able to - confessions are difficult for him.

But now Ifrit knows Alpha sometimes is jealous of him - possessive over things Ifrit wouldn’t dream of taking from him (coughPebblecough) - (and Ifrit sometimes likes to use this knowledge for evil, in a harmless way that he knows isn’t crossing a line between fun and hurtful) and Alpha knows that Ifrit struggles with feeling no longer needed, never enough for people around him - in his gruff, awkward way, Alpha is always there to remind Ifrit that he is more than enough.

There’s days where it’s hard for them to be together, though. Fire on fire, two ex-lead guitarists, still subconsciously fighting for the spotlight, even as they don’t have a stage anymore.

Other days, they’re joined at the hip, the loss of that stage and spotlight drawing them to each other, and you’ll see Alpha keeping a thin, see-through facade of annoyance, even as he runs his hand through the hair of a chatty Ifrit, knocking their shoulders together and edging him on with « come on, old man, surely you can spar a little longer », « show me what’s left of the mighty fire ghoul » and others « what ? Scared of getting your ass handed to you ? »

And Alpha will answer with scoffs and « don’t overestimate yourself, kit, i taught you everything », « settle down before I make you eat your words » and such. His smile, though, is never well hidden.

They balance each other, in a way, two jagged puzzle pieces not supposed to go together and yet fitting together so easily.

[circusmania]

Can you please do tusedere Jax that is in denial that he loves the reader. The reader is a girl that has a crush on him but nobody really knows .Shes very happy ,hyper and treats him like a bunny but changes emotions fast. Jax is extra mean to her at first because he is confused of his emotions and he gets flustered by her. (she constantly calls him cute) He always tries to play it cool but it doesnt always work. Finally Jax realizes he likes her and "confesses" (he just wrote " your not that bad I guess. Ill be at the s;ide at 3 if your not bus" on a piece of paper and slid it under her door ) and then they date after the reader says they love him.

Please change the story as much as you want! This was just to show how they act . TYSM for reading! :'D

Jax x gn!Reader

𓆝 𓆟 𓆞 𓆝 𓆟 𓆝 𓆟 𓆞 𓆝 𓆟𓆝 𓆟 𓆞𓆝 𓆟 I changed the fem!reader to a gn!reader, since no pronouns are mentioned here. ♡ 𓆝 𓆟 𓆞 𓆝 𓆟 𓆝 𓆟 𓆞 𓆝 𓆟𓆝 𓆟 𓆞𓆝 𓆟

Jax was always known as "your classic troublemaker". He always had to have some snarky remark to throw right back at you. However, the cocky persona that he had built quickly started to fall apart when You joined the troop. There wasn't anything special about You, either. Or perhaps, there was something unique about You. Your overly cheerful personality. It sickened him. What could you find so happy in this hellhole? He hated how You always found a way to pull Pomni back up on her feet after a prank he pulled. He hated how You and Ragatha had managed to form such a close bond together. He hated how you'd always comfort Gangle after her mask broke. He hated how You care for that crazy old chess piece, Kinger. He hated how You made even Zooble smile. But most of all, he hated how You made him feel. He has been stuck in this digital circus for so long, he thought he was having a heart attack when You first talked to him. The ping in his chest was something he hadn't experienced in a long time. And he wasn't that welcoming to it, either.

He tried his best to make You hate him. He pulled pranks on You, made jokes about You, believe me, he's tried everything under the sun to make You hate him. In the end, he just started to avoid You entirely, but somehow, he always wound up right back to You. Was Caine playing a joke on him? You had noticed the change in Jax, who wouldn't? Thinking he had just given up on trying to play his pranks on you, You approached him. "What's wrong, Jax? Where is your usual cocky self?" He ignored you. Which was really weird of him, but did You give up? No. You kept pestering him, kept trying to talk to him, trying to see what would make him tic. Zooble found it funny and teased him a lot because of it. You had decided to take it a step further and just started outright flirting with him. Calling him "cute" and stuff. When Jax first heard this, he quickly turned his head away. Thinking you had offended him, You quickly apologized. "It's nothin'. Just go and bother that crybaby instead."

You reluctantly agreed, not wanting to offend him any more than you had already. He didn't want to shoo you away, he just didn't want you to see his flushed face.

As days (hours, weeks? It’s hard to tell here) passed, he warmed up to You more and more. You couldn't lie that the overgrown bunny wasn't in fact cute, and maybe you were catching feelings too. Now, there weren't many people to ask for advice on how to confess. And Jax had built his reputation solely on how nothing could phase him, and he'd like to keep it that way. So, he decided to go with the classic: writing a letter. But it wasn't going to be some love letter, he could never muster up that. It was more so just a simple letter Nothing more, nothing less. Jax wrote the letter, folded it like 10 times, slid it under your door and ran as fast as he could to not get caught. After an hour or so of listening to Kinger's theories, You happily skipped back to your designated room. You unlocked your room and almost missed the paper on the floor. It was terribly creased and begged to be opened. Inside was a messy-written message stating: "You aren't as bad as I had thought. Meet me by the forest if you want to hang out or whatever..." Your heart filled with glee, You had forgotten all about your exhaustion and hurried over to the forest. Your heart pumped with joy as You saw the familiar purple bunny. As he saw your figure getting closer, it didn't take him a magician to know what your answer would be.

𓆝 𓆟 𓆞 𓆝 𓆟 𓆝 𓆟 𓆞 𓆝 𓆟𓆝 𓆟 𓆞𓆝 𓆟

[papaver-decervicatus]

Cat/Mouse/Den EXTRA! Getaway Fever

AN: This is the quick story a personal friend wrote based on Cat/Mouse/Den! I actually vastly prefer his writing to my own because I feel like it fits König's POV much better. Everyone tell him how good it is in the comments to fluster him <3

He walks along the base of a gradually sloping desert-esque hill, with trees and high rising scrub against the base of the hill, up it, and maybe even over it. The occasional tree, large stone, or elsewise normal scenery slowly passes him as he patrols. Then the wind catches him. 

 He sucks in a breath, and takes in the scene in, in a different way. The smell of acacia, a light rain from this morning, and something else. It's different, not new. Out of place. The smell lingers in the back of his throat. Makes his arm hair stand. ‘Ich geisteskrank’  he thinks, (I’m insane)

 He closes his eyes, for a few seconds, as another whipping wind rolls down the hills, breaks around his form. 

 And this time he closes his eyes, and breathes in deeper. And he catches it again. 

 “No closer.” A cool, flat tone, from the radio at his hip. There's almost an edge of excitement or thrill on the end of the words that come over the radio. It's her. Of course

 So all he does is lean back on a small boulder, just less than a yard behind him. It's funny how no matter where the line is drawn, it seems to always be in a comfortable place. Maybe it’s that he could make himself comfortable in her presence, anywhere. Maybe that she makes sure he’s comfortable wherever he may be. But he does stop, and he takes up post. And she watches closely as the tension seems to leave him. 

 His shoulders drop, half a foot, from where he holds them. He slouches a little. He even rolls his neck, to stretch. And as he does, he stops, about halfway up his right shoulder. 

 She can't see it perfectly from over 70 yards. But he's making eyes at her. The crisp desert air, or maybe a lucky delusion, brought her right to him. 

 “Hallo, Maus.” His voice is high. It means “I missed you so”

 “König.” Her voice hides her eagerness. It means “You made me wait.” But she continues “Don’t move a muscle.” It means 

 “I missed what you look like.”

  He draws his favorite knife, and rolls it around in his hand, idly. He cant think of what to say, but and it's eating at him instantly. Like hes running out of time. Like she’ll shoot him for his lack of etiquette, or for worse- boring her. In an antsy fervor, he wracks his brain for something clever. Impressive? Entertaining? His hands move on their own accord, and start passing the blade back and forth. It snaps from hand to hand, almost moving so fast it can only be seen on departure and reentry from one palm to another. 

“Das es not my first place to pick on vacation. Yet we’re both here?”

Her eyes roll back into her skull, and after a second of him wanting to cut out his own tongue, she throws him a rope. “Just enjoying the pool, maybe the view too. It's not half bad.”

Her smirk is audible. ‘I am going to explode’  He thinks. But it comes out as “Have you tried the uhh… mini bar? Or the breakfast?”

“No, I haven't, I've been sleeping in.”

 She’s maybe slept half an hour in the past 24, not wanting to chance missing him. “Is it any good..?” She entertains the idea. In her mind, she doesn't imagine it being a bad place for such amenities, or at least how much better it would make things.

It goes on, and they play pretend for a little.

 It's hushed, and quiet, and statements usually finish with “It would be nice.” But it makes a good pass time, as they draw up and design the perfect little vacation together. And, eventually the sun sets, and two shadows head to camp, and report nothing. No imaginary hotel, or imaginary margaritas, or even imaginary golden orange sunlight that creeps through imaginary curtains as the twilight spreads across the arid landscape. 

[cowboylament]

Bonus content

While trying to work out the logistics of the penultimate chapter of what conversations were happening behind the scenes and how they affected the characters, I wrote them out. I figured they'd be fun to post once I finished in homage to SJM. these are more or less unedited. It includes:

Mor finding Lucien after the fight with Y/n

Erinyes visits Y/N and they discuss their bargain.

Part One, Part Two, Part Three, Part Four, Part Five, Ao3

It had always been empty. 

That thread in my chest, it was no different than what it had always been, but barren of what it had become. The keen wit, those enormous feelings building with steady current. I’d watched it happen. Her eyes, her ears, would snag on a scene or word and the curiosity that found itself in my chest would be nothing more than a hum. She wasn’t as rash as she liked to joke she was. Her emotions built. The single note would find a touch of complexity, another string, another note, until a web had formed. Her feelings informed by her thoughts even the hard emotions, even the anger, always came to harmony. It was not quite music, but I could feel when she’d worked something out, my ribs nearly vibrating.

The first time I’d seen it with my eyes in the house of wind I’d wanted desperately to slip into her mind as she could slip into mine. With that sharp gaze, her acute presence with the world, I wanted to listen to her logic as it conducted feelings in my chest. I’m sure, even when she was wrong in her deductions, there was more sense being made than not. She was too smart, too perceptive, for it to be otherwise. 

A hand, gently, used my shoulder as leverage to climb onto the barstool next to me. I wanted to be naive enough to think, even if only for a moment, it was Y/N. But I could not delude myself. I knew her too well, knew the feel of the air and the pull of all rooms when she was in them. If she’d arrived any idle part of me would drift her way, she had that sort of power. Even half-drunk, even half-slurred, the margins of my body smudging, I knew when she was there and when she was not. Tonight she was not. 

The hand belonged to Mor, I could smell her perfume. She said nothing. 

“Another?” Asked a waitress. 

I nodded. 

The waitress looked toward the female, “for you?”

“Same as him.”

“I thought you were meeting with Amren.”

“After two hours of watching you sulk, she decided to take her leave.”

The waitress slid over our drinks and I stared at the contents before taking a sip. I could open the bond now, could reach for her, but the nothing between us and her shielding would make it all the worse. I’d no intention of ever going back to what we’d been and somehow we’d landed that direction just the same. A wall between us where a deeper understanding might be. I remember when I understood everything, maybe I thought I’d understood everything, but only enough to win when I wanted to win.

“What is this Gawayn like?” 

Mor pursed her lips, thinking. I imagined him tough, tall, the usual blend of every other Illyrian with their often inflexible way about life. It was hard to imagine Y/N wanting anything to do with one. 

“He's funny, different.”

“Different how?” 

She stared at me a moment, “He’s protective of her but in a way that doesn’t involve Rhysand.” 

“What’s that mean?” 

“He doesn’t do anything because she’s Rhysand’s sister, he does it because she’s his friend.”

I huffed a laugh, “So that's the standard?”

Mor looked with devastating awareness, “You forget yourself. You only took her on those walks and up to the garden because Rhysand told you to do so.”

He’s going to be my high lord. The immediacy of my embarrassment was alarming. The night we’d stopped shielding and the days after I knew I couldn’t let her be subject to my emotions. Their sudden and unwavering displays, how they crashed into me when she was near. I had to dampen it, somehow, I spent the days she was in bed trying to figure out how to put a buffer between us, to put a kink in the bond. 

“What happened tonight?”

“It's not worth rehashing,” I said. If I told her what she did I’d have to admit what I’d done. I’d have to reveal my hand, my cruelty, my part in it all. 

She tutted her tongue, “You both.”

“What’s your court’s deal?” I asked, half curious, half avoiding the lecture. “Why the betting, why the pretending her work is nothing?”

“From what I hear you’ve done the same thing.”

I could tell I had to be careful with my words. This was a delicate matter to Mor, one that might lose me an ally. 

“Our taunts are a game to us because we know when we’re lying. But I’ve never suggested it was nothing what she manages. I’ve seen her and I know the skill it takes.”

“You think we don’t?” Mor asked sharply. She didn’t like being confronted with the truth as much as I didn’t. 

“I think I’ve seen you tease and taunt her and I’ve felt her worry down our bond.”

Mor sighed, watching me and I could see that she knew I was right. In my time here Y/N was the one who got questioned the most, her word was trusted the least. Rhysand seemed to fluctuate in and out of being her leader and her brother, at times incapable of being both at the same time. I could feel her annoyance, her pain, that she was the exception to him.

“The way she is with you, this version of her is equally new to us. She has been this way for no one else. She keeps her cards very close to her and what she does reveal has always been carefully chosen to cost her the least. Since you got back it's been the opposite. She’s risked a lot for you.” 

“So why make the bets then? If she wasn’t inclined to tell you before then teasing her seems even less a way to get anything from her.”

“She’s the one who came up with the idea.”

I sat up straighter, and blinked a few times.

“Years ago, after she came back from the winter in the cabin. An excuse to keep us in the loop of her life and all the more reason to leave the males she chose. She had truly terrible taste most of the time, and making Rhys lose a bet always got them out of the way.”

“Why does it bother her then?”

Mor watched me, her head falling to the side like she was asking the same thing. I didn’t think she’d reveal her answer, but after another moment she said simply, “You’re the first male that mattered.”

The words struck my gut. Suddenly all that wine seemed to seep into my consciousness and the world began to blur and spin in a way I had not considered as I’d continued glass after glass. Everything, of course, reveals itself after a bad decision has been made. 

“And the Emissary business?” I asked, needing to leave everything I’d started, the road we’d taken, to break the surface and breathe some air.

Mor shrugged, “She didn’t want to be an Emissary. I think Rhysand holds that against her. Not maliciously, but…”

“How did she become one?”

“After their parents died he asked her to do it. He’s pretty good at finding a place for people, building on their strengths.”

“I’ll say.”

Mor laughed, “I guess he saw her with Egrette.”

After the words left her mouth Mor’s eyes widened, just barely, and she turned toward me to see if I’d heard, waiting for me to ask who this Egrette was.

“I know about Egrette.”

“She told you?”

“Not willingly. I found her outside, she told me she worked there. I started taking the night classes but Egrette already seemed to guess who I was.”

“Why take the classes?”

I shrugged, “I wanted to know about her life, much like the rest of you.”

Mor’s whole body softened, and she looked past me for a while. Long enough that I thought she was about to leave or that the conversation was truly over, she’d finished her glass and I was nearly done with mine. It seemed there was nothing left to say, but then she spoke again.

“How good is she?”

“Better than me.”

Mor hummed, “She’s said the same of you.”

The female stood and I knew she was going, the female turning and stopping at my side. 

“Are you staying in Velaris?”

That all my actions had even made that a question was shameful. I’d left her in that foyer alone. Even after what we’d said there was a history between us that didn’t warrant such dismissal. We’d never left anything unresolved, even if before that meant finding a winner and a loser, if it meant risking losing. Tonight we’d both lost. 

“I wouldn’t leave, not even after what was said.”

“What was said,” Mor asked one more time.

I stared ahead, the place fuller than before, like the deepening of the night only crowding the place more. “Burden was used.”

Mor didn’t flinch, standing before me.

“C’mon,” she said 

“Why?”

“You need to sleep. In the morning, you and I are gonna make a plan.”

“Why?”

“Because you need my help.”

“No, why do you want to help.”

Mor smiled a little, mischievous even and the normalcy of it made my insides recoil. After all this, after all that was said, did we deserve to have such a thing? Someone in our corner, someone like Mor to help me get what I wanted. 

“I like how she’s changed since you got here.”

A small part of me, very deep, too deep to really hold onto but felt nonetheless, smiled. I paid our tabs as a thank you, and we walked home. I tried to tell her a few things, tried to fall into something of a rapport with her, despite it feeling unnatural. Back home to share such details with someone was a risk too great to bear. There was nothing between anyone, fragile alliances, momentarily aligning causes were to serve your purpose in the end, not each other. Eris only helped me with Y/N I didn’t doubt to have one less brother vying for High Lord. 

By the time we’d gotten to her apartment, I’d awkwardly revealed some of our disagreements, desperate really, for someone to confirm to me what was meant. As if I myself was not already secretly aware of her in part. Those minor grievances, I knew what she wanted from me, but I couldn’t give it, and therefore couldn’t accept her reasoning. 

Mor laughed eventually, as she unlocked the door and it was a sound I’d become grateful for hearing. I didn’t want pity, pity seemed to suggest something I couldn’t consider, like we were too far gone from ourselves that we couldn’t go back. It seemed to me they felt sorry because we’d ruined something and I didn’t want it to be ruined. 

“Are you always following in her footsteps? I thought you Autumn males were a bit more brave. She’s terrified and yet she’s still taking the lead.”

I scowled, the words so close to her suggestion, “I tried tonight.”

“Did you?”

It felt like it. To me it had felt like I’d tried, tried to touch her, to know her, to reveal to her something of my thoughts and she seemed to misunderstand. I know you, I wanted to say, and I can love you for it.

The door opened to her apartment and it was warm, inviting. The place was smaller than I anticipated. Being part of the court I expected something extravagant, lived in but grand. This was all rather small and homely. 

“She asked after if I were to be her burden.”

Mor let out a low whistle and shut the door. I fell into the one chair as she walked toward a closet. She pulled sheets and pillows like I was nothing more than a long-time friend who’d drank too much. I closed my eyes and listened to it, that sound of care. An ache began to eat away at me one foot in memory and another in the present. Where, lying on the table, she’d been hurt beyond need. The wound sewn shut, the color just barely returning to her lips. She’d stepped between us somehow, saved me from Rhys. My mate, I could hear her care and I wanted to return it to her if only with noise. To lift her off the table and carry her quietly upstairs to her room, to clean her hair of the blood, listen to the water fill the tub, and drip from the cloth. Those idle sounds, the kind you get only at home. The kind where someone is waiting for you at night. Then she said Cassian and I knew that I was not that thing for her, the place where such sounds could be found or even wanted.

And again, in the foyer. She’d looked so sad, so hurt. I’d said the one thing I knew I shouldn’t have said. I watched the devastation for only a second before I managed to turn away. Had I been brave I might have crossed the small space and asked exactly what she meant, taken her in my hands, and had her look at me so we could say precisely what we’d been trying to say. Her heart had been beating furiously. 

A draft off the window beside me blew the scent of Velaris and all its promises, people chatting, people laughing, signs of love. My mind returned here to this room. 

“Her words are her only weapon,” said Mor.

“I know that.”

She glared at me, continuing her sentence I had not even realized I'd interrupted. “They are also a shield. Do not kid yourself into believing that you understand her private definitions. Whatever she said to you, whatever you think she meant, she is concealing something she is terrified to reveal.”

“I don’t scare her.”

Mor pitied me again. I could feel it. She threw a sheet over the couch and I stared wordlessly out the window. It had begun to rain. The secret kind, the one that comes in the night and dries before anyone has any chance to know it has arrived. I’d not yet slept and already I felt sick. When Mor finally offered the couch I collapsed into it. 

“You should understand something Lucien,” Mor said as I curled up on the cramped uncomfortable slab. I hid my face in the fabric and blankets. Her words holding a very careful sympathy, “You scare her most of all.”

***

There was a woman by my bed. 

I don’t know how I knew this. 

Looking at the space it revealed this fact to me but I couldn’t say how, not outwardly, not obviously, but there she was and wasn’t. She was very beautiful, like something of a dream. Her hair spilled more than it fell, in long swerving sheaths. She bent forward in a nurturing manner toward me, sleeping, but I could tell this was not totally natural for her. So I knew who she was.

“I thought there were three of you.”

She didn’t look my way, she knew I was there, watching, “My sisters are away.”

“They made you out to be much more unpleasant.”

She smiled then, “We appear that way to the guilty. You are not guilty.” She said standing. “Not yet anyway.”

I tensed and finally, she met my gaze. Anxiety was a better-known battle, something she could look in the eye. The fae were renowned for their beauty but she was beyond that of the immortal creatures, those not quite fae, even Amren. Striking wasn’t the word, there was something soft about her, like a perfectly round stone eroded by a river. So in touch with the world and beyond it just the same.

“You are Tisiphone.” 

She bowed her head much the way Lucien did—such grace. 

That night in the woods and after in the house…I felt power return to me that had been taken. That caress of the hand. Lucien too had seemed to sense it. She’d touched us both. I stood up straighter. She was in my room watching me sleep and I was watching myself sleep. It might only mean one thing.

“Have you come to claim me at last?”

“That is not my way.”

“What is your way?” 

“My sisters and I claim oath breakers. You are not one.”

I folded my arms in front of me clasping at my fingers though all signs of respect for forgotten Gods were foreign to me. Our worlds are different, the scales of meaning and feeling different. 

“It is you who I made the bargain with.”

“Yes.”

“How?” 

She stared down at her own hands and for the first time, I saw a fern stem pinched between her fingers. She spun it idly but it didn’t seem she was trying to find her words. What is it like, the mind of a God? That duty that she must fulfill, the rules of its power, it was lost to me. I couldn’t even find an imagination to conjure what it might be like to serve the world in such a way, under such confining terms. 

“Once blood was shed, once it fell into the earth my sisters and I arrived.” 

“And why are you here now?”

She looked up from the green stem and smiled that same smile. I wouldn’t say it was friendly but it also wasn’t insincere, “You’ve been looking for me, have you not?” 

I wrung my hands, grasping at the fingers. Before me the answers, so many answers, and were they ever fair? Could life deliver its small miracles and then return to its cruelty just the same? I had to know before I made the food, but suddenly asking seemed the hardest thing in the world. I missed Lucien. If he were here, if he were asleep beside me one glance and there would be words, something steady, something sure. But he was in a townhouse not so far away and he didn’t know this place at all. 

The female cocked her head. “You are afraid,” she said. 

“I don’t know what it means, to make a bargain with a God. I don’t know if I’m able to keep it and I prefer you this way I admit.”

She watched with a tenderness about her, “I did not have to take your bargain you know. I confess it made little difference to me if you lived or died.” Her eyes swept over me. Whatever she had once thought she no longer did, her consideration of my standing there seemed weighed with a consideration that she herself had admitted to having. I had trouble, however, believing such indifference remained. Not at least, in such overwhelming amounts.

“My duty is to avenge and your blood was innocent. I was there to do so, but the lines were not so clear. We followed in the hopes of clarity but we found you, your mate approaching, searching for you. We are not precisely death, but we can act as its bringers. We were going to take you gently, but then you began to think about the next world.”

And Eris. I’d been thinking about a better life in what came next, I’d wanted it to be good and kind the way we’d been kind in the end. A knife pressed into the palm, the belief that even injured I could make it. How he’d fought for me to get out. 

“Plenty of people like to think they’ll be better in their next life.”

She shook her head, “It is the life they had they often wish better of and it is rare that one might wish to reconcile with the men who harmed them.”

“They didn’t harm me,” I said quickly.

She raised a brow, “I have no claim over them. You do not need to worry.”

I swallowed, “So that saved me?” 

Her face took some faraway look, like what Lucien had when something dear seemed so out of reach, even in memory, even surrounded by it. Her mouth parting, eyes unseeing, “You entered into a bargain to which you named no party, any God could take you up on it.”

“You and your sisters did.”

“Just me.” 

“Why?”

This seemed to be the question she couldn’t answer. Whatever forces were at work, internal or from that world seemed to be anchoring those words in her stomach. They would not come out, not when I asked. 

“I returned your power to you. Enough to fulfill my end of the bargain.” She said returning to this moment, her eyes meeting mind. “I’m sure it is not lost on you that you are alive when all you’d asked for was to get your mate to safety. I was prepared to take you even still, as you lay there bleeding. But we have more leeway in such deals. I watched you closely, watched you with him. I wanted to…see something.” 

“See what?” 

She angled her head at me, “If you meant it. I hesitated, curious and skeptical as you are, to see if it was not some near-death regret. When you stepped between your brother, I began to see, but it was not until you were alone that I understood. So I didn’t take you, I left thereafter.”

“So the feeling…in my hand.” 

She smiled, raising a hand toward me, “I believe your people shake hands.”

“And Luciens too?”

“He was involved no?” 

“But the bargain was between us.”

She hummed as if understanding some difference between us now. Something illuminated by my confusion. She turned away in thought, finding words for some discrepancy of godliness. My sleeping figure on the bed unmoving, if I hadn’t asked I’d have thought she had come to take me, that she already had come for me. A haunting stillness, she broke it by placing the fern in her hands across my chest. My hands on instinct, moved to reach for it. 

“Bargains are a precarious thing. But it is not so simple, and fate has many strings. We Gods are not concerned with the markings of the body, our deals happen in the threads, on the soul. If you betray the oath on your shared thread I will come, and I won’t be so hesitant.”

“My oath?”

“The oath you made to get him to safety. You are bound to protect him, to lay no hands on him, cause no fatal wounds.”

“I had no plans to.”

She turned, more serious, “Your life has changed dramatically in so short a span, even for a mortal. You cannot know what you will want in the centuries ahead. Good people make bad bargains.”

I took a breath as she had, the words a smattering in my head, coming to a careful calm, and organized hum, “You waited to be sure I was good on my word. I suspect I’m alive because for whatever reason you believe I can manage it. If death is always the inevitable end, if you do not appear here in your other form, I must conclude you think I can manage.”

Her eyes narrowed in a kind of happiness, mischievous too, whatever she’d suspected I’d proven right in my answer.

“We put our faith in you as often as you put our faith in us.”

“So not often.”

The female smiled softly, “No. I will say only that night held mutual rarity between us. And…” whatever it was she wanted to say she stopped herself. Her eyes again did a sweep over the room, turning her neck, seeing it as if for the first time in its entirety. She settled on the scarf on my bed, in the spot Lucien would have if we mated.

“He made that for me,” I said. “I was looking for you because I wanted to mate him but I needed to be sure my deal would cause him no pain.”

“I cannot promise that,” she said regretfully and my shoulders slumped, an ache carving its place in my chest. Her words suddenly freed, she said what I knew she’d been unsure of saying, “You’ve learned a great deal in so short a time. I do believe I will never have to make good on my word. It's the only reason I ever make bargains.”

The words added a heaviness to the room.

“Have you been watching us?”

“A little,” she confessed. “But this is the last we will see of each other.” 

“Why?”

“For plenty of reasons, most of which I cannot say, but at least because there is something important you should know, something the fae seem not to realize.”

I was silent, waiting and she turned her whole body toward mine. Whatever she was to say would be the most important thing of all.

“To mate in this life, it binds you to each other for the rest of them. Whoever it is you become, a thread of fate will forever link you to one another. Our deal is on a thread between you both, the thread that he has yet to formally accept.”

“And if he accepts it?”

“Your souls will become a union, he will inherit the same oath. You will serve, in part, as each other’s protector for every life to come. You will forever be his keeper as he is yours.”

Our breathing was a singular sound and movement. Her spilling hair moved across her chest rising with each breath as I lingered on the words she’d shared. Yes, I wished Lucien was here. I wanted to tell him everything, had to tell him everything, but it was still not the time. But I was no longer afraid. He would choose. I liked it, that it was his choice. I wanted to be sure, as she was sure, that he was up for what I’d begun. So I met her eye and I nodded. 

She nodded back. I knew then, our time was up. She moved like water through the room and as she passed me a cold fell off of her familiar and understood to me but I could not point out where or how. She walked toward the door and when she reached the threshold I felt her going.

“Thank you,” I said suddenly knowing I’d have no chance to say it again. She would not be listening. She turned back and I clarified, “For hesitating, I do not take this time with my mate lightly.”

“It is your doing, do not think too highly of me. I am still a bringer of death.”

“And life.” 

The female seemed to withdraw. I didn’t back down. I suspected this was not what she was known for, perhaps she didn’t like it or perhaps she did and it hurt regardless. She took one step out of the room and in a blink she was gone. It was only an instant between my waking and the moment she’d left, but there was light in the room of morning. I sat up, turned as if I’d find her again, find my other self at the end of my bed, but there was no one there. I felt it though, in my hands. Dropping my chin, pinching the stem between my fingers, I twirled the fern and its life in my hand.

[opalimagines]

Friend

You meet Grundy for the first time

Rick Tyler/gn!reader

Warnings: None

"Can I also have...let's say...a dozen burgers and fries to go? Oh! And all the apple pie you have. Also to go."

Rick smirked as Maria wrote down the rest of your order on her pad. "I'll get that put in for you right now." She gave you both a kind smile as she walked back towards the kitchen. And a secret little thumbs up just for you because you had clearly gotten past your 'boy problems'.

"I didn't think your orders could surprise me anymore." Rick had seen you put away insane amounts of food, especially after using your powers a lot, but he didn't expect you to order a dozen burgers and more on top of what you already asked for.

"It's for Grundy," you said, taking a sip of your soda.

"Grundy?" His friend had finally come back to 'life' the previous day—a Monday, of course—and he was just like he was before, and just as hungry.

"Mhm. You haven't seen him yet today, so he could probably use something to eat. We can take it to him after."

"We? You want to meet him?"

"Of course." You gave him a shy smile. "He's obviously really important to you. That means he's important to me, too."

Rick smiled back, your words giving him a certain warm and fuzzy feeling that hadn't really been a thing before he met you. "I think he'll like meeting another friend."

Less than an hour later, the two of you trekked through the woods around his house, Rick holding bags stuffed with burgers and fries and two entire apple pies. You pulled your jacket tighter around you in the chilly air, following his lead.

Rick walked just a bit further, stopping near a fallen tree much like the one he and Grundy had sat on before. "Grundy!"

You looked around the woods, seeing quite far because so many leaves had fallen already, but you didn't spot him. "Maybe he's taking a nap?"

Rick nodded behind you moments later, and the snapping branches and the low groan coming from that direction immediately told you you were wrong. You turned around and saw Grundy lumbering towards the two of you, filthy and covered in tattered clothing, but very much 'alive'. You'd only ever heard about him in stories until that moment.

"Hi," you said, giving him a wave. "I'm (Y/N). It's good to finally meet you."

Grundy just stared at you, so you glanced over at Rick, who addressed him. "It's okay, Grundy. They're a friend."

"Friend..."

"That's right. They wanted to come meet you." Rick held up the bags of food. "And bring you something to eat."

Grundy walked to the fallen tree and took a seat on it. Rick sat next to him, and you followed his lead once again, taking Grundy's other side. Rick gave him the bags, which he immediately tore open.

After that, Rick decided to step back and let you take over from there.

"Rick said you like burgers and that you really like apples, so–" You couldn't even finish speaking before Grundy started chowing down on the burgers, wrappers and all. For a moment, you just watched, but then you let out a little laugh.

Grundy stopped and looked at you with a soft groaning sound.

"Sorry, it's just...I have to eat a lot, too. It's kind of funny seeing it from the outside." Well, you didn't eat the packaging, but you also weren't a zombie. "I can't blame you. The burgers from Richie's are really good."

He made another noise that sounded like agreement before he went back to the burger in his hand.

"It's pretty out here." Even though most of the leaves had fallen, there was still so much color. It was almost like a scene out of a painting, if you didn't count the chill breeze. "You don't get cold being outside like this?"

Grundy shook his head.

While the weather didn't seem to bother him, Rick still told you earlier that he was planning to set up a place on his property for Grundy to stay. Knowing how much he cared for his friend made you even more fond of him.

"Well, if you ever do, let me know. I can knit you a giant sweater," you said, only half joking.

Rick smiled as he listened to you and Grundy talk, as one sided as it was. Finally getting his friend back was a relief, as was the fact that you weren't scared of him at all and actually wanted to visit him without Rick even bringing it up.

This was only the first of many years of visits with Solomon Grundy.