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pedrito-friskito · 1 year ago

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Happy Sleepover lovely Kay!!

You know how I love me some Steve Rogers, I’d love to request him with the prompt…

“You have any idea how much I hated seeing someone else touch you.”

Please and thank you!

🌹

ericca!!! thanks for such a fun request ☺️ the inspo jumped out of me on this one (but my apologies for taking so long to get it posted!) and out came a sequel/follow-up to walking the wire!!

would def recommend reading that before you read this (if you haven’t already 😉)

tell me your troubles - steve rogers x fem!super soldier reader (phoenix)

word count: 3k

warnings: lil more than canon-typical violence (i like netflix marvel more than disney marvel these days can u tell), lowkey possessive!steve, heavy make outs, shower sex, oral (f receiving), unprotected p-in-v (they’re supersoldiers ok but wrap it before you tap it) - also russian translations from google so if it’s not right I’M SORRY

Nat gives the order to fall back, and it goes against every fibre of Steve’s being to obey.

They have you. They have his girl.

It’s Nat’s op. She’s in charge, and he knows this isn’t her fault, that she’s not to blame for the fact that you’re not by his side right now, that you’re instead being hauled into the back of a large van, too-thick cuffs banding your arms behind your back. He’s having flashbacks to Berlin, to Bucky in a cage. They put a hood over your head, and you manage to catch his eye before your face disappears from view.

Go.

His every instinct is screaming at him to go after you, doubly so when the van starts to drive away. But there are bombs planted between you and him, obstructing his path. One wrong step, and no amount of super-soldier serum could save him from being blasted apart. And then where would that leave him?

Where would that leave you?

“I want a plan,” he spits as soon as they’re back at the makeshift base they’ve been calling home the last few months. It’s no Stark Tower, but there’s running water and a bed he’s shared with you most nights, a haphazard sign scrawled on the door — Cap & Phoenix. Bucky drew a little cartoon shield and a flame to go along with it.

He sees Nat bristle as he barks his order, but when her sharp gaze flicks to him, something in him softens. He tends to forget, that she cares for you on a similar level to his own affection. Not the same type granted, but the Widow holds you close to her heart, and despite Steve’s own confirmation that Nat’s not to blame for your kidnapping, he can see in her face that she doesn’t think the same.

“You didn’t do this, Nat,” he says, following her into the large office they’ve used to map out missions. Bucky and Sam make themselves scarce, disappearing from the corner of Steve’s vision. “We all knew there was a risk.”

“She was right there,” Nat replies, shaking her head, sinking into a crouch in front of the table, surveying the map you’d all reviewed before leaving. “She was right there, and I let them grab her.”

“We couldn’t have known they’d have the capability, the means to—”

“This is my fault, Steve.”

“It’s not,” he reiterates, hand clenched into a fist, knuckles pressed to the table. “I know it, Phoenix knows it. But letting it get the better of you isn’t going to bring her back. You think you made a mistake, then fix it. We find her.” He plants his other fist. “No matter the cost.”

Nat arches one perfect brow, and he can already see the wheels turning behind her eyes. “Sir, yes, sir.”

Tracking you down is the easy part; recovering you proves to be a touch more complicated.

Natasha’s plan is airtight this time, outright refusing to split the team, the four of them moving through the building silently. They have each other’s backs, and soon enough, they’ll have you. But it’s a maze from the moment they step in. The map they have is accurate, but it’s more heavily guarded than they’re anticipating. Nat and Bucky both put men down with acute precision — assassin precision — and Steve finds himself lagging behind Sam, his knuckles aching from the sheer number of punches he’s delivered.

Part of him feels naked without the shield. He gave it up for a reason, before he had you. It’s something he’s talked through over and over, you sprawled on his chest, chin propped on the back of your hand, watching him talk as he stares at the ceiling.

Talk to me, drevniy. Tell me your troubles.

That last night, before the mission went awry, it was the same. He’d talked himself in circles, until his voice went hoarse and he was losing himself to the soft press of your body against his, and then all he really wanted to lose himself in you instead, so he did.

You held him close after and murmured something in Russian he couldn’t quite make out. He lifted his head to ask you what the words meant, but you kissed him before he could get the question out, and you’d drifted off to sleep a few minutes later. He didn’t have the heart to wake you.

Damn the shield, he thinks now, trying not to flinch when Bucky pulls the trigger on his gun, more men dropping to the floor. Damn it all.

They round a corner, and Steve nearly crashes into Nat’s stalled figure.

“Hello, Captain.”

You’re strapped to a chair. Restrained nearly the exact same way that Bucky was back in Berlin. Only him, the man Steve had watched cart you away, he’s got his hand knotted in the back of your hair, your head yanked back, your throat bared, a large knife pressed against it. It could be steel, but Steve would bet good money it’s vibranium.

Steve darts forward, but Nat throw her hand out, stopping him. She tilts her chin imperceptibly, and Steve’s eyes follow the direction, spotting a generator in the far corner. From the corner of his gaze, he sees Bucky catch on, and wordlessly, the plan is formed.

“Let her go,” Steve calls to your captor, and when the man starts laughing, Bucky slinks into the shadows, towards the generator. Nat raises her gun, aiming at the thugs flanking either side of your captor, and Steve’s hands clench into tighter fists.

“I would not do that if I were you, Captain Rogers,” the man taunts, waving a finger in the air. “You have not even heard the bargain I propose, for the return of your sweet Phoenix.”

“I don’t make it a habit of bargaining with kidnappers,” Steve returns, and the man yanks your hair back harder. He can hear your slight whimper from where he stands. “Let her go, and maybe I let you live.” From the corner of his eye, he can see Bucky near the generator, hidden by the shadows — perks of super-soldier sight and stealth.

The man starts laughing. He sees the glint of the knife press against your neck, and a single drop of blood beads along the blade. Nat’s eyes cut to Steve’s, he nods, and Bucky’s metal fist connects with the generator, sparks flying as the room is plunged into darkness.

It comes in flashes. Bullets spark through the air as Nat takes down the two thugs who have started running for them. Bucky shoots forward, yanking the metal away from where it’s restraining your arms and pulls you out of the chair. Steve disarms your captor, the knife now streaked with your blood, but before he can do anything else, you grab it from him, whipping it over your shoulder. The blade buries itself in your captor’s chest, and the man drops instantly.

Steve reaches for you, hauling you into his arms, and you cling to him as you all turn tail, heading out of the building. It’s not until you reach the Quinjet that Steve finally feels relief, but remembers the blood and takes you to the back of the jet while Nat and Bucky prepare for takeoff.

“Let me see,” he murmurs, and wordlessly, you push your hair away, baring your neck to him. The scratch is barely visible, already just the remnant of a scar, but Steve knows it won’t go away, not completely. He wipes the blood gingerly from your skin, his movements gentle even though he knows he can’t hurt you, not truly.

His brow furrows as he looks the rest of you over. There are no other obvious injuries, or evidence of them. Your clothing is tattered, dirt and grime smeared on your skin, and there’s a brightness in your eyes that he hasn’t seen in a long time — not since they pulled you out of that lab.

“I’m fine, drevniy,” you say, grabbing his wrist when his attention falls back to your neck, to the tiny scar now there. “It will take much more than a scratch like that to take me from you.”

Steve bristles at the mere thought. He feels like a live wire suddenly, exposed, vulnerable. You tug on his hand, pulling his palm until it rests over your heart, until he can feel the rapid beat if it against his skin. You lean up, fitting your lips to his pulse, a soft kiss to his throat. His whole body feels tight as a bowstring, and while the feeling of you has soothed it some, he can’t shake it.

“Steve,” you call, your voice low, almost cajoling. Suddenly, he feels guilty. You’re the one who was kidnapped; he should be comforting you, not the other way around. The corner of your mouth lifts. “Tell me your troubles.”

He groans, and the tether on his restraint snaps. Both his hands move to your face, cupping your cheeks in his palms. He hears your quick intake of breath right before his mouth covers yours, and you sigh into him, your body relaxing almost completely in his grip.

“You have no idea,” you murmur, and the purr in your voice makes his tac pants grow tight, “how much I missed your touch.”

“Baby,” he nearly growls, pushing you back against the metal wall of the jet. You’re tucked in the corner now, out of sight of Nat and Bucky, and Steve’s plan forms quicker than Nat’s rescue had. “I need you right now.”

Your breath hitches high, the noise catching in your throat, and Steve’s hands drop from your face to your waist, tugging your hips until they’re flush with his. “Right now?” you ask, a teasing smile on your face. “Buck’s hearing is as good as yours is, Steve. You want him hearing you take what’s yours? Want him to know what I sound like?”

The reminder tugs his restraint back into place. Something deep in his chest, something feral and wild, growls in response. Mine. He lifts you until you’re high enough to wrap your legs around his hips and his fingers press into your sides, feeling the rush of your blood beneath your skin, the heat of it.

He kisses you until the jet touches down again.

As soon as the ramp lowers, he hauls you over his shoulder and stalks down it, his boots clanging against the metal. He barely hears Nat’s low chuckle behind him and grinds his teeth when you palms settle on the small of his back, fingers tapping random patterns against his skin.

Once you’re inside, he heads straight for the bathroom you’ve been sharing. You barely get a word out as he turns the water on, nearly as hot as it’ll go, just like you like it. When he turns back, you’re naked, and more relief blankets him when he sees you’re untouched, unscarred.

“You’re wearing too many clothes, Captain,” you grin, and Steve backs you against the wall, desperate to feel your bare skin against his. You bite your lip as his palms skim up your ribs, but he feels your hands on his belt, unhooking it with ease. But then the light in your eyes changes, and as his belt thunks to the floor, your hand roves up his chest, two fingers tucked under his chin, tilting his face to yours. “I knew you’d come for me.”

Something in his chest cracks. “Of course I did. I…”

He’d barely let himself feel it, when he saw you there, strapped to that chair, that man’s hands on you, the knife at your throat. The…intensity, the way he instantly knew he would do whatever was necessary to get you back. If Nat hadn’t pulled his focus, pointed out the more sensible path, he can only guess what might have happened, what mess he might have left behind.

Your palm, light against his cheek, pulls him out of his head. “Hey, come back to me,” you call, your voice so soft, so sincere, it pushes away the violence in his head, the guilt that threatens to brew over things he hasn’t even done. “I’m here, krasivyy. Alive. Intact. Yours.” You get closer, your nose brushing his, lips grazing his when you speak. “Only yours.”

“Mine,” he repeats, like the word might bring him back down to earth. His hands grip your hips, lifting you with ease, growling when he feels your legs wrap around his waist. “Watching him touch you, you have no idea how I…” He bites off the sentence with a groan as you grind against him, your bare core leaving a wet patch on the spot just above his waist. Keeping you in place with his hips, he rips the shirt off, tossing it away as he pushes at his pants, barely getting them down his legs before his cock is springing free. The head taps between your legs and it makes you squirm.

“I’m yours, drevniy,” you say, and the nickname once made him bristle, but now it just lights a fire in his chest. “Only yours. No one else gets to touch.” You lean up, pulling yourself against his chest, nosing at his neck, scraping your teeth at his earlobe. “Just you.”

Steve growls again, holding you against him with one arm, wrenching the shower door open with the other. You hiss when the water hits you, but the sound drags out into a low moan as he positions you beneath the spray, steam filling the stall, smudging your outlines.

He lets his hands roam, massaging your limbs, cleaning the dirt from your skin. You hum along with his movements, your head tipping back between your shoulders when he works your chest, wiping away the dried blood and grime. Then he walks you back, pushing you against the tiles. You gasp when your back touches them, the porcelain so much colder than the water, but Steve’s made up his mind.

He starts at your lips. Kisses you rough, bites at you bottom lip, pushes his tongue past your teeth to tangle with yours. When your hands move to grip his hair, wet strands wrapped around his knuckles, he groans into your mouth, drags his lips along your jaw, down your throat.

He bends slightly, tracing your collarbones with his tongue. Your hands don’t leave his hair, only gripping tighter as he moves down, nose dragging along your sternum. But then he pauses, cheats left, scraping the scruff of his jaw along the curve of your breast. You breathe out his name when he closes his lips around your nipple, giving you just the edge of his teeth, pinching the other between his knuckles lightly before rolling it between his fingers.

“Steve.”

He grins against you, sure you can feel it as he pulls back, satisfied only when he sees your nipple is peaked, tight from his attention. Then he does it all over again on the right, only stopping when you tug at his hair, a panting mess as you look down at him, your eyes heavy-lidded with lust.

“What are you…” you start to ask, but the words drop off into a moan when he drops to his knees, using his shoulder to wedge your legs wide, leaning in to bite the inside of your thigh.

“Appreciating what’s mine,” he replies, tongue soothing the spot he bit. “Too much?”

You shake your head, rolling it against the tile, a blissed-out smile on your face. Fuck, he missed you. Can’t imagine his life without you. “Never,” you reply, meeting his gaze again. “Prityazhatel'nyy padezh.”

Steve’s brow lifts, and he puts his face against your thigh again, dragging his tongue up toward the heat between your legs. “Translate, please.”

“Possessive.” You moan the word, one hand staying in his hair while the other reaches up to squeeze at your breast. “Fuck, I should have gotten myself kidnapped a long time ago.”

The thought makes him see red, and you squeal as he grabs both your thighs, throwing them over his shoulders and diving straight between your legs.

“Steve!”

He eats your pussy like he’s never done before. Nips and sucks and licks until your thighs are quaking around his ears, until your cries bounce off the tile walls. You’re an oasis in a desert, his first meal after being starved for days. You’re everything.

You’re his.

He doesn’t stop until you cum, your hand an iron vice against his scalp, tugging so hard it gives him just that little twinge of pain, and he’s reminded how evenly matched you are. He takes everything you have to give, drinks down every drop until you’re pushing at him, overstimulated, body lax in his grip. He works his way back up to standing, worshipping you on the way up the same as he had on the way down. Your chest heaves against his as he pushes his body against yours, caging you in against the wall, keeping you safe.

“Tell me something,” he asks, and you nod, the movement lazy, your hands dragging up and down his ribs as he straightens, reaches up to brush a wet strand of hair from your face.

“Mm?”

Steve leans in, nosing at the curve of your jaw before pressing a soft kiss to your throat. “How do you say I love you in Russian?”

Your whole body jolts as the words fall past his lips, and he chuckles into your skin, pulling you even closer, wrapping his body around yours. Your head tips back, eyes trained on the ceiling, but you hold him just as close. “You’re going soft, drevniy.”

“Only for you,” he replies, nipping at your throat. “Yours, remember?”

Your quiet laugh seems to echo around the shower until you speak again. “Ya tebya lyublyu.” You say, and Steve gives his best repetition, earning himself another chuckle from you. After his second try, your eyes lower, and he sees the wetness in them. “I love you, too.”

#my fics #tell me your troubles #sleepover sundae #steve rogers #steve rogers fanfiction #steve rogers smutt #steve rogers x reader #steve rogers x you #marvel fic #nomad steve rogers #captain america x phoenix

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ilovewhiteroses · 1 year ago

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Hi dears! The blog recently reached 137 followers! Yaay!😍 Since today is my birthday, I would like to thank not only my followers, but also everyone, who has ever visited the blog or read my fanfics/reblogged or liked my gifs! It's also almost a year since I have been actively using Tumblr and since that, I got to meet some amazing and lovely people💕:

Catchy @i-like-the-eyes: My bestie, my little devil Bren @spider-bren: You are such a kind soul and I can't wait to read the next chapter of your Bikeriders fanfic Dax @ruflirtingwithme: You are a wise gentleman with a good heart, who inspired me to actually start a Tumblr blog which I'm very thankful for Louise @placeinthemiddleofnowhere: You are lovely and have a great sense of humour and your The Corintian fanfic made me love the character even more and it's one of the best I have ever read Lenka @duncans-vizla-honeybee: I love your honesty and looking forward to chat with you again Kamila @boydholbrook-fan: You are so adorable and I love how enthusiastic you are when it comes to Boyd content Merry @merryandrewsworld and Ericca @e-dubbc11: We rarely talk or mainly interact through reblogs, but your comments are always so sweet and they make my day

and lastly, I would like to thank Boyd Holbrook for blessing our screens with his talent and good looks 😉🥰

I wish you all an amazing day!💕

(gif by me)

#birthday post #october 24 #boyd holbrook #friends #mutuals #followers #big hugs to you!💕💕

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ittybxttykxttytxtty · 4 months ago

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Thank you for all of your asks, my lovely friend!

I love all of them and I love you for sending them in! I can’t wait to start working on them. Angst and fluff are definitely my wheelhouse 😘♥️

I really appreciate all of your support and your friendship ♥️

No problem, Ericca! 💖💖💖 I love sending them in 💖 Can't wait to read it!

HAPPY BIRTH MONTH, AGAINNNN 🎉

#moots

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e-dubbc11 · 1 year ago

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Thank you thank you thank you for this, my lovely Selene! It’s beautiful and looks like a fabulous time!! ♥️♥️♥️

Happy Sleepover my dear friend Selene!

May I please request of moodboard with me and my love Billy Russo at a fancy Christmas party? I’m light/medium skin with dark brown hair

Please and thank you!

💜

thank you for your request my sweet ericca! <3

~*fancy christmas dinner part with billy russo

#billy russo #selene's summer moodboards sleepover #selenes moodboards #billy russo moodboard #marvel moodboad #thank you!!#ericca and selene #lovely friends

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imperio-peeta · 2 years ago

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My lovely Dove,

For the ask game…

🌧️what do you like to do on a rainy day?

✨a movie you like to re-watch

🔥last song you listened to

Please and thank you!

🌹

Hi! Thank you so much, Ericca 💞🤗

🌧️

On a rainy day, I like to watch a movie, wrapped up in a blanket with a warm drink in my hand!

✨

A movie I like to re-watch is Godzilla (2014) [or any of the sequels]

🔥

The last song I listened to was Every Night by Imagine Dragons (my favourite band!)

#about me #ask game

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k-marzolf · 2 years ago

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My lovely friend Katherine,

For the soft ask game…

1. What song makes you feel better?

19. Most important thing in your life?

29. Morning, afternoon, or night?

Please and thank you,

💐

Thank you for the ask, Ericca! 💜😄

1. What song makes you feel better?

Anything by Fleetwood Mac, but Rhiannon specifically.

19. Most important thing in your life?

My mom. We’ve been through so much together. I love her.

29. Morning, afternoon, or night?

Night, definitely. My mood is always better at night. It’s peaceful and quiet. No distractions. Just me, and my thoughts. :)

Love you, Ericca!! 💜❤️💕

#ask

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realfernmayo · 2 years ago

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Music ask time!

27, 18, and 11 ❤️

Please and thank you!

🌼

Ericca, my love!!!

11:A song that you never get tired of

I have several of these, but the one that comes to mind first is "Ambling Alp" by Yeasayer. LOVE that song.

18:A song from the year that you were born

The number one song the day I was born was "I Wanna Dance With Somebody" by Whitney Houston, and that's a good 'un!

27:A song that breaks your heart

"Cover Me Up" by Jason Isbell. It's honestly one of the most heartfelt songs I have ever heard. I've heard it live twice and it still hits hard.

#mandy answers #ask game #mandy loves ericca

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thepnwvarmints · 1 year ago

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Moodboard Tag Game

On Pinterest: first celebrity, outfit, quote, and aesthetic pic on pinterest is your vibe.

Tagged by: @e-dubbc11 [ Thank you, sweetheart! This was fun and accurate AF! 😂🙌🥰 ]

I love ALLLL of this! And y’all know I use humor as a defense mechanism so… ch’yahhh! Course! What part of this ISN’T my vibe!? Pffft! Accurate. So damn accurate.

Tagging: @wardenparker ; @ithinkwehitametaphor ; @i-like-the-eyes ; @galacticstar ; @drowningnikki ; @tampire ; @merryandrewsworld ; @kurjaks ; and I know @ilovewhiteroses got tagged, but I’mma taggin’ you anyhow! Lol! And anyone else who wants to! Snag away! 😘

#tag games #moodboard tag game #Thank you Ericca love! 🥰😘🤗#This was a nice distraction. ❤️🧡💛#e-dubbc11 #ruflirtingwithme

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e-dubbc11 · 4 months ago

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Hello Fall!! (It’s also my birthday month)500 Follower Celebration!

Photos are not mine. They are courtesy of Pinterest//Google.

Greetings and salutations my darling friends!

As you gathered from the title, I have reached the milestone of 500 lovely friends AND it is also my birthday month (it’s the 29th, write that down. Kidding, I’m kidding!) Anyway, I thought it would be fun to do a little celebration. It’s also my favorite time of year, it’s filled with apple picking, cider, pretty leaves, Halloween, all things flannel and all things cozy.

🍂🍁🥮🍺☕️👢🍿🍁🍂🥮🍺

For those that have followed me for awhile and participated in one of these before, I’ll leave my rules under the cut and thank you all so much for your friendships, kind words and continued support. It really means so much to me 💕

So you know the drill by now but if you don’t, here’s the deal…I love doing these but I need you help so please like and reblog this post. I don’t bite so if you feel like sending something in, please go for it!

You don’t HAVE to follow me to participate but I would love it if you did!

Send in as many as you’d like

My very handsome men that I write for are Billy Russo, Matt Murdock, Brock Rumlow, Dean Winchester, and a little bit for Donald Pierce and Leo Barnes

Autumn Vibes Are Very Welcome

Send me your character crush, a Fall activity, and I’ll make a moodboard for you (mutuals only for this one, please)

My Favorite Color is Fall

Send me your ideal date night scenario with the fictional character of your choice along with your skin tone, eye color, hair color plus a little description of your style and I’ll do your makeup and pick an outfit for your date. Also tell me any colors you like and/or dislike.

Cake, Candles, and Lots of Smiles

Since it is my birthday month, I’ll leave some birthday prompts under this…

Birthday Cute

Birthday Fluff

Time To Celebrate

November Rain

I love music and I love when I get inspired to write something based off of a song so send me a song and a character and I’ll try and write something based off of it

Embracing Another Year of Beautiful Chaos

Tell me your favorite birthday memory

Ask for my top 5 anything

Ask anything you’d like to know about my fics

Fall-ing In Love

Pick a fic of mine and I’ll write a particular scene from the other character’s POV

If you think any of my one shots need a second part, let me know!

My on-going series are always on the table for new parts. You can combine that with any prompt you come across

Send me a gif (can be smexy, fluffy, angsty, etc)…and I’ll try and write something based off of it

As per usual, I’ll leave some prompt lists below but you’re not limited to just these. If you find a prompt you like, send it on over.

Soft Spooky Prompts

Halloween-ish Dialogue Prompts

Hurt/Comfort/Angst/Fluff

Protective Prompts

Lazy Mornings

Again, thank you all SO much for following me, I love you all and I look forward to your asks! 💕

I’ll Keep This Open Until 9/20 CLOSED

Tagging some of my lovelies that might be interested: @munsonownsmyass @music-indie-tv @k-marzolf @kayhi808 @fluffyprettykitty @ittybxttykxttytxtty @itwasthereaminuteago @imagine-a-fictional-boyfriend @jvanilly @stoneyggirl2 @deans-spinster-witch @snowkestrel @ilovewhiteroses @fireeyes-on-teller-dixon-grimes @danzer8705 @rachlovesactors @snowkestrel @aoi-targaryen @nutmeg17 @nekoannie-chan @vaguekayla @freshabogados @wonderland2425

#ericca’s 500 follower celebration #thank you!!#lovely friends #really and truly thank you #happy birthday to me

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munsonownsmyass · 1 year ago

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Frank Castle x OFC! Abigail Miller

Summary: Abby inherits a bakery after her grandmother. She's not too keen about moving, this is all a very big change, but maybe this place isn't too bad. Maybe she might even find something to stay for?

Notes: This chapter is mostly to set the scene. There will be much more Frank in the next one 😉

Also, thank you to my lovely Ericca @e-dubbc11 for reading this through.

Words: 2.3 K

Masterlist - part 2

Abby had never really thought that she’d own a bakery. There had always been a love for baking, and she remembered all the times she had baked with her grandmother, but owning a bakery in Bar Harbor, Maine? It would certainly take some time getting used to this.

When her grandmother died, she left Abby her bakery. Along with the deed to the shop and a key to Nana’s house, there had been a small note.

“Life is too short, Abby. Make it sweet.”

It had come as a shock when she passed. Abby always felt that she had a special connection to her grandmother that the others didn’t, spending almost every summer since she was a kid in Bar Harbor, playing in the bakery, stealing frosting. Her grandmother always pretended she didn’t notice, but Abby knew she did.

When the other kids would play outside, fishing or play soccer, she would immerse herself in decorating cakes, taking joy in watching as the bread would rise, hearing that sweet crunchy sound that only comes from a whole tower of baked bread fresh out of the oven.

Her grandmother always encouraged her to bake. Asking if she'd help her in the kitchen during the holidays or ask for her help in the store. Maybe she secretly hoped to fuel Abby's love for baking, planning for her to take over the shop all along.

The thought makes Abby smile. Of course, that’s what this was. Her grandmother never did anything half assed, so why would she do it with her legacy? And now she was here at last. Well, almost. It had been 40 minutes, and she was still standing outside the shop, staring in through the window.

It was hard to go in there, knowing Nana wouldn’t be on the other side of the counter. Could Abby even make this place as great as she did? With Nana, everyone always felt welcome. Like they were family. Like this little space was a home away from home.

You know that feeling when you step into a store, no matter what kind, and instantly feel like you belong? That you could spend hours there, looking at every little detail, taking in every smell, flavor and sound? Yeah, Nana’s bakery was that kind of place. She was everyone’s grandmother.

“Are you alright, dear?”

Abby turns to see a sweet, older woman smiling beside her. She seems so familiar somehow, but it’s been years since Abby’s been here, so it's hard to remember everyone.

“Oh, yeah. I just… I’m trying to muster up some courage to go in.” Abby answers nervously, knowing how odd it must sound.

The realization dawns on the older woman and she instantly smiles, pulling Abby into a big hug. “Oh, Abby! I haven’t seen you in years. How are you?”

Some might feel weird about hugging a stranger, but she wasn’t really, was she? Abby hugs her back, not feeling alone for the first time since she arrived.

“I’m so sorry. I… I don’t really remember you.” She admits, a slight blush creeping up her cheeks.

“Oh, don’t worry, dear. I’m Mildred. I was your Nana’s neighbor.”

A smile slowly creeps up Abby’s face as she remembers Mildred. She was this sweet lady that would always stop by Nan’s house, especially after grandpa passed away. She had been there for Nana, always funny and the life of the party. Exactly the type of person Abby could only hope to be when she got older.

“Well, I guess I’m your neighbor now. Nana, she... She left me both the shop and the house.” The sadness hits her out of nowhere. She also had to go into Nana’s house. The last few days, as everything got finalized, she had bounced between the lawyer’s office and the motel. It hadn’t really dawned on her yet that she actually had to go through Nana’s things too.

Abby sighs heavily, happy that her parents and sister will be here in a few days, so she wouldn’t do the clean up alone. It would be hard for all of them, but thinking about her dad going through his mother’s stuff is enough to make Abby sad. A lifetime of stuff and memories, just waiting to get sorted.

It was probably good that Abby would be there too, to stop them from throwing out the important stuff. The books definitely needed to stay, especially the cooking books. Every page filled with Nana’s own notes.

See, this was probably why it was Abby who got the shop. Nana raised 4 boys, none of them even picking up a utensil unless it was for the grill. Never understood the joy of creating something, 'except for a mess'. Nana's words, not Abby's.

Abby is brought back to the present by Mildred softly taking her hand. Rubbing soothing circles on the back of Abby’s hand, Mildred gives her a soft smile. “I know it’s a lot. Come on, I’ll go with you.”

Abby looks down at the key in her hand, exhaling softly. With a final reassuring nod from Mildred, she opens the door and walks in, thankful she didn’t have to do this alone.

Looking around, she notices that not much has changed since she last was there. The same cake stands Nana got for Christmas when Abby was 8. Her favorite apron on the counter. Abby walks closer, fingers touching the worn fabric. How old was this thing even?

Feeling a single tear escape, Abby quickly wipe it away, looking at the rest of the store. Mildred turns on the light, the warm glow falling on the displays and the small tables in front. This place had always felt like home to Abby. Maybe this wouldn’t be so bad? With a little cleaning and a little remodeling, it would be an amazing place.

The rest of the day Abby and Mildred cleans up in the bakery, removing a months’ worth of dust. As they unbox some new gear and put everything in order, they fall into a rhythm. The years of helping her grandmother is still there, like muscle memory.

Almost done, Abby turns to ask Mildred a question, but finds her smiling softly. Abby puts down the old order book, suddenly a bit shy. “What?”

“You just… remind me so much of Mary.” Mildred’s bottom lip quivers as tears fill her eyes. Abby had been holding back her tears all day, but hearing those words from Mildred makes her lose the fight. As the tears pour down her cheeks, Mildred takes Abby into her embrace.

They stay like that for a while, taking comfort in each other’s arms. No number of hugs could make them forget about Nana, but at least they have each other now.

The first week flies by in the blink of an eye. Abby is at the shop every day, trying to get the place ready for the big relaunch. All the walls get a fresh coat of paint. Nana had always loved natural colors, nothing to bright or bold. But it was time for a change. The shelves might keep their white color, but the walls were now beautiful teal.

As a true friend, Mildred was still team Nana and thought the color was too much. But eventually she admitted it wasn’t too bad. The same with the new tables for the little café corner. Red leather on the chairs, black tabletops. It was beautiful.

On the opposite side of the entrance, in the best Friends style, was a big orange couch, a little coffee table and a single chair. The space looked inviting, hopefully making people wanna stay for some coffee and cakes. And just to add a little bit of herself, Abby added some shelves with books. And lots of plants.

When Abby puts down the last pot of flowers on one of the small tables, she looks around. Bright and inviting, the colors making the place vibrant. The place had come alive again, felt like her space now.

But Nana’s spirit wasn’t gone. Far from it. Near the couch, she had made an entire wall with pictures. Nana on the opening day of the bakery, Abby herself on a small stool piping frosting on a cupcake, Nana in the window of the shop with a big smile as always. All of them were there. Nana, her father and his brothers, all the grandkids. An homage to the incredible life that Nana lived. Gone, but definitely not forgotten.

The next few weeks were a blur, so full of people. Some just stopped by to give their condolences to Abby. Most wanted to talk about Nana, share stories from the times they shared with her and how they missed her. Some seemed like they only came to see what had happened to the little bakery, a few muttered words about the colors being “a tad too much”.

But most were just there to stare at Abby. She wasn’t exactly new to town, but many hadn’t seen her in years and Abby could barely recognize them. But they were all kind, they really were. Offering advice, help and even wanting to get her involved in the community.

One thing Abby had always loved were slow mornings. Just time to enjoy her tea, looking at the sun rising, letting the sunlight soak into her pores. The ride from the house to the town was so beautiful, the nature more amazing than what she was used to from back home.

On her short walk from the parking lot to the shop, people actually waved to her, and the birds are chirping. Maybe she was too quick to judge this place? It wouldn’t be so bad.

She stops in front of the bakery, slowly pulling out her key, ready to start a new day.

“Mary always opened at 8.30.”

Startled, Abby looks to the side. She looks directly into a chest, having to look up to see his eyes. He's tall and broad, so broad. His hair is a little long and his beard a bit on the unruly side too. He honestly looks a bit intimidating. The way his dark eyes looks into hers, his jaw clenched as he looks impatient.

“I’m so sorry, I…” Abby tries softly, shaking her head before looking at the stranger again. “I was told that 9 was fine. Sorry.”

He just tilts his head slightly, looking at her. With a raised eyebrow, he gestures towards the door. Abby just nods, quickly opening the door and letting him in. As she scrambles to get the apron on and starting up the register, he just stands there, looking at her. She checks in with the worker that showed up early to start the baking, making sure everything is on track.

The entire time Abby can feel his eyes on her, almost burning into her skin. Whether its curiosity or annoyance, she doesn’t know. When everything is finally up and running, she looks up at him with a timid smile.

“So, what can I do for you?”

He steps closer to the counter, hands in his pockets. Abby can’t help but feel small compared to him, as he towers over her.

“This place still make that loaf with the corn crumble on top?” He asks, his deep voice causing Abby to lose all ability to speak for a moment.

“Ehm, yeah. I do. I mean, we do. Yes.” Abby blushes, feeling stupid. Why so flustered? It's just a guy. A handsome guy, but still. He breaks into a small smile.

“So… that’s a yes then?” he teases, and it only makes Abby blush even more. She just nods and when he asks for one, she quickly bags one for him.

“Anything else you’d like?”

“Chocolate chip cookies.”

He’s a man of few words, it seems. Abby just takes a bag and places on the counter, giving him the total. When he hands her the money, their fingers touch for just a second.

She looks into his eyes, beautiful brown like the tastiest chocolate. Abby hates to admit it, but there is something about that rugged man. He could use a haircut and a shave, but still…

Abby bites her lip, looking away as she takes the money and put them into the register. Brushing a strain of hair behind her ear, she feels herself get flustered as she looks up at him.

“Have a great day.”

He gives her a quick smile, barely there, before he turns towards the door. On his way out, Mildred meets him in the door. “Morning Frank. What brought you to town?”

He just lifts up the bags and walks out of the store. Abby can’t help but look at him as he walks away. “Who is he?”

“That, honey, is Frank Castle. We don’t really know much about him. Moved here a couple of years ago, keeps to himself. Rarely comes to town.” She shrugs a little, pouring herself a cup of coffee. “He was in the army, I believe. Marines, maybe. Now he works for Hammond Lumber Company.”

Abby looks out of the window, catching a glimpse of Frank before he disappears around the corner. He sure does have a great ass. Clearing her throat, turning her focus back to Mildred, she tries to look uninterested. “Lumber Company… So he’s a lumberjack?”

“Yes. And honey, I'm telling you. I might be an old woman, but you should see him chop wood. Even makes me break a sweat.” She giggles like a schoolgirl, playfully nudging Abby’s shoulder. Abby just smiles softly as she pours herself some tea.

She tries to straighten up a bit, getting ready for her customers to arrive. Keep her mind distracted. But her thoughts keep drifting back to the man from before. Frank Castle. Huh.

She couldn’t help but wonder if she would bump into him again.

Tagging: @e-dubbc11 @itwasthereaminuteago @theradioactivespidergwen @chvoswxtch @boliv-jenta @murdock-and-the-sea @mattmurdocksscars @lucy-sky @darlingshane @pedrito-friskito

#frank castle fanfiction #frank castle lumberjack AU #frank castle #frank castle x OCF! Abigail Miller #Whisk me away

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ilovewhiteroses · 1 year ago

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Hello my lovely Lili!

Saw the asks…

Fuck Marry Kill: Donald Pierce, The Corinthian, Clement Mansell

And tell me about your day, my friend 💜

Please and thank you

💐

Thank you, my dear Ericca!🥰😘

Fuck - Donald Pierce. I wonder what he can do with that robot hand😈 Marry - Clement Mansell, but after a while I would steal his money and quit Kill - The Corinthian, but only in my dream, so he could come back the next time😉

My day: It's around 13:12 here, the day is the usual, so far. I packed away some clothes, then will go grocery shopping with dad, and later I will have 2 online english lessons with 2 students.

#inbox reply #ericca #e-dubbc11

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pedrito-friskito · 2 years ago

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Happy Sleepover lovely Kay!

I didn’t see the character on the list but if you’re writing for Chris Evans’ characters, I was wondering if you could do Ransom Drysdale with the prompt “Your eyes are beautiful.” He’s a dick but I think the right person could turn him into a puddle. If you can’t do Ransom, my back up is Nomad Steve Rogers

Please and thank you

💕

ericca darling thank you!!

okay I don’t know if I completely did the assholery justice (it’s been a hot second since I watched Knives Out) but the mere thought of Chris Evans in that cream-coloured sweater DOES THINGS TO ME so here we are…! a…softer side of Ransom Drysdale (for the right person!)

hope you enjoy sweets, thanks for the request!

requests are open until saturday midnight!

firecracker

(word count 1.7k)

He knows you’re angry.

It’s not hard to see, every time he glances over at you in his car. Your arms are crossed over your chest, your legs the same, and you’re staring pointedly ahead, eyes glued to the windshield. Any other night, and you’d be staring out the window, dreamily pointing out stars and constellations as he drives, or, if you were in a mood, you’d be clinging to his arm, either pulling his hand between your legs or fitting yourself over the centre console and freeing him from his slacks.

The anger is nearly rolling off of you, filling the car with tension that he thinks he could cut with a knife. He’s seen you upset before, but never like this. And he knows it’s his fault. He knows.

We’re not dating, he’d told his friends, not realizing you were within earshot. We’re just fucking around. She’s a good lay, little firecracker in bed. It was a boldface lie, Ransom will be the first to admit. But he’s a different person when he’s around those guys, when he’s out in public, not alone with you, in the house you’ve only just decided to share.

He was just…fronting. He can’t tell those guys shit like this, like he’s in love with you, like he would move heaven and earth to make you happy. He can’t be seen as that guy, he has a reputation to maintain for Chrissakes. He can’t let anyone else know that you seem to have this innate ability to turn him into a fucking puddle with a bat of your eyelashes.

He didn’t meant to fall in love with you; it just…happened.

You just…happened.

And you heard what he said. You rounded the corner a moment later, cocktail glass held so tight he was shocked it didn’t splinter in your grip. For a moment, he thought he was home-free, that you just happened to be walking his way at that time, but the expression on your face? Oh no, you’d definitely heard.

You’re silent the entire drive, eyes not moving from the road ahead. He’s barely cut the engine when you’re flinging the door open and stepping out, the headlights illuminating your path to the door. Ransom waits for a moment, stuck in the driver’s seat. He watches you fish your keys from your purse, open the door and step inside, slamming it shut behind you without looking to see if he followed.

Yep, you’re angry.

He’s slow to get out of the car, locking it and heading for the door, shoving his hands in the pockets of his coat. He’s half-expecting the front door to be locked, but it swings open easily, and he sighs, closing it behind him and flicking the lock, hanging his keys on the hook and shucking off his jacket.

He can hear you upstairs, your feet padding across the floor. Even from the bottom of the stairs, he can see the open bedroom door, the light flooding through it. He hears the sink in the ensuite, the television hung on the wall turned on for a few moments before you shut it off again, and then the door slams shut.

Shit.

Ransom doesn’t go upstairs right away, instead padding into the kitchen, pouring himself a drink, leaning against the counter as he sips the liquor. It slides down his throat easily, but does nothing to quell the nerves in his gut. He well and truly fucked up this time; he wouldn’t be surprised if you’re up there packing your things, if he’ll hear you walk out the door in just a few minutes, never to be seen again.

He doesn’t expect you to step into the kitchen halfway through his drink. He nearly chokes on it.

You’re wearing his sweater.

Only his sweater.

You don’t say a word as you walk into the kitchen, heading straight for the fridge. He just watches, letting his gaze rake over every inch of your body as you find yourself a snack, reaching up on your toes to fish a glass from the cupboard before you fill it with water. That’s his favourite part, watching the sweater ride up your back as you reach up, showcasing the curve of your ass, the scrap of lace that’s barely covering you. You look over your shoulder as you sink back onto your feet, lashes fluttering, and his drink suddenly feels like an iron weight in the pit of his stomach.

“What?” you snap.

“Nothing,” he replies, staring down into his drink. He wishes he could disappear into it. “Look, baby, can we—”

“No.”

“I didn’t mean what I said,” he spits out, the words spewing out of him. “I’m sorry, all right?”

You roll your eyes, planting your hands on the counter and lifting yourself up and onto it. It puts you at eye-level with him. “You’re sorry?” you repeat, your tone dry. “Oh, that’s perfect, Hugh. I feel so much better now, thank you.”

“Sweetheart—”

“Baby, sweetheart, honey,” you spit back, throwing a hand in the air. “I thought it was firecracker.”

“I didn’t mean it!” he nearly shouts, banging his fist on the counter. You don’t flinch, fixing your eyes on his, staring back. “Would you just listen to me for one goddamned second?”

Your brow lifts as you take a sip of your water. You cross your legs, then your arms. “Well? I’m listening.”

There were words. They were right on the tip of his tongue. A confession, an apology, an explanation, something. But then you’d fixed those eyes on him, big and wide, still smudged with makeup from the party, lashes fanned across your cheeks, and they were gone.

“Hugh?” you prompt, and he nearly chokes. Only you call him that, and god fucking damn it, his name sounds like a song from your lips. You blink at him, he blinks back. “I’m listening.”

“Your eyes are so beautiful,” he breathes out, and for a long moment, you just stare at each other, sinking into silence. Carefully, he steps forward, closing the distance slightly, slowly, like you’re a deer in the woods. He doesn’t want to spook you. “Baby, you know I didn’t mean it.”

“I don’t know what I know anymore,” you say flatly, pursing your lips. “I didn’t realize we were just fucking around.”

Ransom groans, tipping his head back on his shoulders as he closes the distance more, until he’s close enough he can plant his hands on either side of you, fingers tapping at the counter. “Baby, you know that’s not true.”

“Oh, do I?” you ask. “Cuz I bet if I asked any of your friends, they’d tell me we’re not dating, that we’re just fucking around, and that I’m a little firecracker in bed.”

“Fine,” he says, and reaches into his pocket, produces his cellphone. You watch with a furrowed brow as he swipes across the screen, dials the number of one of his friends. “Hey, man, it’s me,” he says, and stares you down as he speaks. “Listen, what I said earlier, about the girl?” A pause. “Yeah, the firecracker. Yeah, we’re not just fucking around, all right? We’re together. Officially.” You blink, lips parting. “I’m in love with her.”

He doesn’t wait for his friend to reply, just hangs up, tosses the phone onto the counter.

You’re on him a second later.

He drinks your kiss down, gathering you into his arms as your legs lock around his waist. The sweater somehow feels softer on your body, and you whimper into his mouth as his hands roam, diving beneath the hem and feeling your bare skin.

It sparks like wildfire between you; it always does, but he lets you take the lead. You paw at the buttons on his shirt, fumble with his belt buckle, whine for him to do it for you. So he does, all but tearing his jeans open, sucking down a breath when your hand closes around him. “God damn, baby.”

He returns the touches in kind, dragging his knuckles along the bit of lace, chuckling into your mouth when he feels them soak through, your thighs slick with arousal. Ransom doesn’t waste any time, pulling you closer on the counter, hitching your legs around his hips. You moan when he drags your panties to the side, crooks two fingers deep in you, prodding at the spot he knows makes your toes curl.

“Hugh,” you murmur, fingers curled in the collar of his shirt, hauling him close. “Fuck me, please?”

“Yes, baby,” he agrees, and pushes into you a moment later, palm skirting down to the small of you back, coaxing you closer to him. “Ah, there you are.”

Your head tips back against the cupboard, your arms wrapped around his neck, and he leans in, dragging his tongue along your pulse. Your eyes flutter shut, lips parted as he starts to move, thrusting deep, rolling his hips into yours. You fist the back of his shirt, the other glancing down his chest, nails digging at his skin.

Neither of you are going to last, that much he knows for sure. He can feel it, in your body and his own, and the feeling starts to roll through him as he reaches up, takes your jaw in his hand, angles your face back down towards his. Your eyes are screwed shut, mouth dropped open.

“Let me see those eyes, baby,” he says, leaning in to kiss you rough, tasting your tongue with his own before he pulls back. “C’mon, I wanna see those eyes when you cum.”

You nail him with a wide-eyed stare, and he cums so hard his knees nearly give out. You’re not far behind, clenching down on him with everything you have, milking his cock, and he kisses you again.

“That’s my girl,” he murmurs, moving his lips down to your throat, gathering you impossibly closer. “You hear me? My girl.”

#sleepover saturday #ransom drysdale #ransom drysdale x you #ransom drysdale x reader #my fics #knives out #ransom drysdale fic #ransom drysdale smut #ransom drysdale fluff #ransom drysdale angst #ransom drysdale headcanon

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matt-erialgirl · 3 years ago

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OMGOODNESS Heidi! Congratulations! 🎉 That’s so exciting! You deserve all the hugs and all the love, my friend and I love youuuuu! ❤️

As far as prompts go, I had a hard time picking between C and D but I think I’m gonna have to go with Love Confessions C-36!

AAAAAAAAA ERICCA THANK YOU MY DARLING AND I LOVE YOU MORE ♥️♥️♥️♥️♥️♥️ I hope you like this one!!

C-36: ”I love you and that’s why I have to leave.” ”Well I love you, and that’s why you need to stay”

Knock

“Matt,” you called out, your fist coming down against the timber of the door in three more harsh knocks, “I know you’re in there.”

“Matt?” You called out again, pushing your forehead against the door. Before you could get another word out, a door behind you pushed open.

“Sorry, Fran,” you groaned, turning around and shooting Matt’s neighbour an apologetic look, “he’s being a hardass. Hasn’t been picking up my calls. I’ll keep it down.”

Fran huffed out a string of unintelligible words before pushing her door shut as you called out another apology after her.

“Matt,” you mumbled this time with a much gentler knock, knowing he can hear every breath you take, “I just want to talk. I want to know what I did and I want to see if I can fix it. But please don’t give me the silent treatment. It sucks.”

You waited a while longer, your head aching from being pressed up against the wood.

“I can’t go back to my life like you were never in it, Matt,” you sighed, “please, just talk to me.”

After another minute, the lock clicked, making you stand back as you waited for the door to open. Matt stood at the now open door, his lips pursed and his eyes cast down. Your eyes raked over him before you threw yourself at him in a hug, your arms wrapping around his neck and your face buried against his neck.

“I’m so glad you’re okay,” you whispered against his skin, your arms tightening around him as the palm of his hand gently touched your back, urging you to let go.

Disheartened by Matt not returning your hug, you started to feel like you really had upset him in some terrible way that you were unaware of.

“What have I done, Matty?” You asked him quietly, pulling away from him and nervously playing with the hems of your sleeves.

“I need you to leave,” Matt exhaled, his voice sad and pained, his eyes avoiding looking in your direction altogether, “please. Don’t make this difficult.”

“Why?” You asked, tears starting to sting at your eyes as they searched Matt’s face frantically, “Matt, whatever it is, we can talk about it. We’re friends, aren’t we?”

“Please,” Matt pressed, his voice catching in his throat, “I love you, and that’s why I need you to leave.”

Your brows furrowed in confusion, your heart hammering against your sternum.

Love? He did say love. But why tell me to leave? Why does he want me to leave?

“Is this about me finding out about you being Dare—” you started, but Matt shushed you in panic before pulling you into his apartment and shutting the door.

“Sorry! Sorry, I meant finding out about your, uh,” you breathed, lowering your voice, your back against the closed door as Matt’s hands landed against the timber on either side of your head, extracurricular activities.”

“God, please, don’t call it that,” Matt breathed out a short, quiet laugh, his breath fanning out across your face.

“If you love me,” you started, “why do you want me gone, Matt?”

“Because I will never forgive myself if something happens to you because of me,” Matt admitted, his hand tucking a strand of your hair behind your ear, “I can’t let you get hurt.”

“Well, I love you,” you exhaled, your hands cradling Matt’s face in your, “and that’s why I need to stay. I want to be there for you. I want to be the one person you can fall back on.”

“And you were calling me a hardass,” Matt smiled halfheartedly, his little jab making you beam, “to be honest, this is not how I thought you’d find out about how I feel about you.”

“You’re the one who shut me out when you should have been pulling me closer, so yes, you’re the hardass,” you nodded, letting your fingers play loosely with Matt’s hair, “and I am not exactly just finding out about your undying love for me, Matty.”

“Oh?” Matt grinned, wanting nothing more than to hold on to this moment for the rest of time, the worry filling his heart for your safety slowly being quelled by the reassurance of your presence.

“Absolutely,” you confirmed happily, “you weren’t exactly discreet. So much for the sneaky Devil of Hell’s Kitchen. As subtle as a gun, you are.”

“I love you,” Matt said again, his arms wrapping around your waist to bring you closer to him.

“And I’ll never leave you,” you promised, placing a gentle kiss to Matt’s chest, right on top of where his heart beats.

#Matt murdock #daredevil #matt murdock x reader #matt murdock x you #matt murdock fic #daredevil x reader #daredevil x you #daredevil fic #daredevil angst #matt murdock angst #daredevil fluff #matt murdock fluff #1.1k celebration

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