#half way through the month pals

[hier--soir]

take your medicine

pre-outbreak joel miller x f!reader

rating: explicit, 18+ minors dni summary: *tv sales advert voice* so you've been finding it hard to reach orgasm? lucky for you, our best-selling item "hunky boyfriend joel" is on sale at half price. shipping is free, and he is very determined to help you achieve your goals! call the number on your screen to buy now! OR your medication makes it difficult to orgasm so joel (and your vibrator) help make it happen. warnings/tags: set in the early 2000s aka early thirties joel my lover boyyyy, boyfriend joel, depression [nothing dark or sad], anti-depressants, brief discussion of food/eating, cigarette smoking [f], soft!supportive!joel, mentions of masturbation [f], unprotected piv sex, use of a sex toy, ride 'em cowgirl (1939) dir. samuel diege, cream pie, dirty talk, joel talks you through it. word count: 2.9k masterlist a/n: so this one is.... self-indulgent. shout out to all my friends on anti-depressants that are strugglin' to reach orgasm. me too, pals, me too. and there will be no medication shaming on this account, no there will not! so happy sunday, i hope someone else out there enjoys this short little thing with me x follow @hier--soirupdates if you'd like to be notified when i share my writing

Medication is a journey, they say. Every day will be different.

Medication is not the end all be all, they say. We can always try different avenues.

Six months on, now.

Six months since Let’s try the Zoloft for a few months.

Six months since We can reassess in April.

It’s June and summer has settled over Austin with a hot wet vengeance. April came and went with a mutual agreement that you weren’t ready to be weaned off yet. A gentle hand on your forearm and a softly spoken Why don’t we check in again in July?

A low dose. A starter dose. A you shouldn’t experience too many side-effects dose.  

And she was right – for the most part. There were no headaches, no nausea, no dizzy spells, no changes in appetite. That shallow, low mood that’d been haunting you for months suddenly began to lift. Begrudging exercise in the afternoons, a three-meals-a-day regiment implemented by your boyfriend, and a happy little pill with every morning coffee.

But fuck – you can count the number of orgasms you’ve had since January on one hand.

Countless nights spent alone in your bed, tangled betwixt sweaty sheets, fingers and forearm cramping until you finally give up. Drink a cold glass of water, wet your face, and go to bed frustrated; a routine disappointment.

You’d gotten lucky a few times, of course. Vibrator on the highest setting possible, pussy all puffed up and numb from the rough speed. Frustrated tears in your eyes, lightheaded by the time you finally feel that sweet sweet relief coursing through your veins.

A few times with Joel, too, in those first few months. And ignorance was bliss—quite literally—until he caught onto what you’d been doing.

“What was different tonight?” he’d asked you on one of those nights, laid out beside each other in his bed. Chests heaving, satisfied smiles spread across your faces.

Your hand had paused against his head, fingers twisted up in his sweaty curls, and you hesitated. So quick, the briefest pause before trying to play it off, but he caught it. Always too perceptive, too watchful of an eye; especially since you’d been diagnosed.

“What’s wrong?” Joel frowned.

“I… didn’t… my…” you’d mumbled, face tucked against his pillow.

“Can’t hear you when you do that,” he pressed a kiss to your shoulder. “Baby?”

“I didn’t take my meds today,” you repeated, voice still low, still wary. But you could tell he heard you. Knew from the way his body stiffened beside you. From how when you looked over his smile had dropped, eyebrows pinching inward. 

For a moment he didn’t even say anything. He hardly breathed. And then—Darlin’, why would you do that?—so painfully soft, the faintest tinge of worry in that deep, rasping voice of his. 

“I don’t know,” you sighed, and something hot began to burn behind your eyes. Wet, pinching shame. “Just… I woke up and I wanted you. And I wanted it to feel like it used to for us, and I can never… you know I can’t finish when I’m on them, and I hate feeling like I’m disappointing you—”

“Baby,” Joel shook his head, strong hand cupping your jaw. His forehead knocked against yours; a tender but firm kind of insistence. The type that says look me in the fucking eyes and listen up. “You’re not disappointin’ me.”

“Joel,” you sighed, face hot, foreheads tacky where they pressed together.

“No,” he grunted. “I fuckin’ mean it. This stuff takes time, okay? We’ll figure it out the way we always do. Just… don’t do that again. Please.”

“I won’t,” you murmured feebly, nose smushed against his.  

“Promise me,” Joel had urged you. “Promise me you’ll take your medicine.” 

“I promise, Joel.”

You kept strong on that promise. Didn’t get frustrated when he’d stay over more nights than usual, or drag you back to his place in the evenings – all just to watch you pop that little white pill in the mornings.  

It brought out something new in him, the day you’d showed him the prescription. Like some instinctual protectiveness was unlocked and he just kicked into hyperdrive.

Cutting work early to drive you to your doctor’s office, cooking up different meals every night for dinner.

Most days you wake up alone in his bed; wipe the sleep out of your eyes as you wander downstairs. Let him nudge you into a chair at the table, beside Sarah, so he can set identical bowls of cereal in front of the two of you—his girls. Hell, if you had a dollar for every time that man has said Breakfast is the most important meal of the day in the past six months, you’d have more money than you could spend.

Joel didn’t even get mad when you started smoking again in May.

Didn’t bat an eye when he found you at two in the morning, sat on the back porch in one of his sweatshirts with the smell of tobacco staining your fingers.

“Been a long time since I seen once of those in your mouth,” he’d smirked, settling onto the stoop beside you.

“I’m sorry,” you grimaced, remembering how proud he’d been when you quit. He rested his head against your shoulder, eyes watering with a yawn.

“S’late,” he grumbled sleepily. “N’you smell now.”

“I’m sorry,” you’d repeated, stamping the cigarette into the concrete. “Today was just… hard. Couldn’t sleep.”  

“S’okay,” Joel told you. “Just don’t like it when you sneak out on me, yeah? You know I ain’t judgin’ you.”

The only thing that frustrates Joel, is that he comes, and you don’t.

And it’s not a frustration with you. No, it’s a hot faced guilt that spreads through him every time you fuck. Evident in those frantic touches, desperate pleas of your name, of tell me what to do, tell me how to help, of fuck I’m sorry.

Because you still want him, despite it all. Still can’t help your wandering hands, your fingers that tease back his bed sheets and then his boxers and coax orgasm after orgasm out of him, night after night.

Tonight, you thought, would be no different.

Covers strewn across the end of your bed, pillows askew, you sit astride his lap.

It’s hot; the AC in your apartment has been broken all week, and your thighs are tacky with sweat where they press against his skin. Everything wet – sweat in your hair, slick between your thighs, the soft squelching sound that raises with every press of his cock inside of you.

“Fuck,” Joel pants, hands tight against your waist. “I can’t—goddammit, I’m not gonna last, baby.” 

“It’s okay,” you moan, eyelids heavy as you rock your hips over his.

It’s late, and you both have work early in the morning, but the burn is so good like this. The heavy weight of him reaching so far, pushing the limits of what your body can take. For years it’s been your favourite way to fuck him; poised above his body, admiring the way his stomach tightens and his eyes roll when you sink down on his cock.

“What can I do?” his voice is strained, the veins in his neck bulging as he holds his breath – anything to stave off the impending high.

You only whimper pathetically, grinding your hips into his. Can feel everything in your stomach knotting up into a white-hot ball.

“Hey,” Joel urges, hand landing in a soft slap against your outer thigh. “Talk to me.”

“I don’t know,” you cry out, shaking your head. “It’s right there, but I…”

“But what?” he murmurs, hips snapping up again.

“I don’t think I can,” you finally admit, eyebrows drawn tight in frustration. Your lower lip is bitten raw at this point, incessantly gnawed at by your own teeth. His grip tightens on your hips and he drags you upward until his length slips out, falling against his stomach with a wet smack.

“C’mon, tell me what you need,” he says quickly, and you’re sure that the desperation you see in his eyes is mirrored in your own. Pupils blown round and fat, endless black—pleading.

You stare down at him for a moment. Watch the way his chest heaves with harsh, stilted breathes. How little dots of sweat have gathered at the hollow of his throat. And fuck, you want it so bad.

“Top drawer,” you exhale roughly, pointing to the side table.

Joel doesn’t question the order. Doesn’t say a word as he spreads a long arm across the bed, yanking the drawer open and shoving his hand inside. You watch him rifle around for a moment, pulse increasing as you wait for him to find what you want. What you need. And you can tell when he does; his shoulders stiffen and he lets out a choked sort of sound, pulling out the black wand and shoving it into your hand.

“Show me,” he says, eyes wild.

Your finger drops down against the button, turning your hand to show him which one to press.

“There’s four settings,” you murmur, slipping it back into his palm.

“Does this normally help?” he asks, grunting softly as you grip his cock, notching the tip back at your entrance.

“Sometimes,” you sigh, sinking down, sucking in the heavy weight of him. “Can still take a—a little while.”

He presses the button tentatively, watching as the rounded head of the wand starts to vibrate. Spread open around him, he can see your swollen little clit so easily, and he lowers the wand to press against it. Your body jolts forward, mouth splitting open with a groan as heat flares through you. Your hips stutter against him instinctively, chasing that intense feeling, and he looses a gravelly moan at the feeling of your wasted cunt squeezing around him.

“Look at that,” Joel grunts, dark eyes trained on your face. That wicked pink tongue slips out to wet his lips and he nods in encouragement. “I know, baby, I know it’s a lot, you feel good?” 

“Yes,” you gasp, jaw going slack as you settle into the feeling. “Fuck, yes, it’s good, it’s good.”

It’s nothing you’ve ever felt before; nothing your past boyfriends had ever been comfortable enough to try. It has the muscles in your thighs tensing up already; the thick press of his cock paired with that unrelenting, almost overbearing, vibration.

“Can feel it,” he hisses out, head tilting back into the mattress.

“Yeah?”

“Mm,” he nods, expression grim. The muscle in his jaw twitches. “So fuckin’ tight like this. All wound up, y’need it so bad, I know.”

You moan, eyelids fluttering as he presses the button again, notching it to a higher speed. You lift up slowly and then press back down over him, and the two of you groan in unison. His free hand falls against the curve of your ass and he squeezes, encouraging you to rock against him, starting up a steady pace.

One of your hands settles on your chest, fingers twisting and pulling at your nipples. You need more, always more, something, anything.

“Look so fuckin’ good like this,” Joel mutters, and you can tell how fucked out he is already as he watches you. Dark eyes glazing over, mouth hanging open deliriously. “My pretty girl, so damn good for me.”  

Your heart stumbles in your chest and you whimper, appreciation for him flooding your senses. He’s been so close for so long tonight already, teetering precariously on that edge but holding off for you. Fucking you into the mattress before pulling out and tucking his face between your thighs, doing his damnedest to get you to that same place. Urging you to get on top, to take what you needed, to use him to get yourself off.  

“I love you,” you mumble breathlessly, eyes pinching closed as something sharp starts to tingle at the bottom of your stomach.

“Fuck, fuck,” Joel snarls, hips snapping upward.  

“What ar—” your words cut off with choked moan as he clicks the button again, and then again, taking it to the highest speed. Your shoulders shake and you tilt forward a little, hand gripping his shoulder to steady yourself.

“Joel,” you cry out, chest heaving and stomach tightening.

Your fingers wrap around his wrist, searching for something to ground yourself against. That firm press against your clit doesn’t falter for a second, and you let out a rough moan.  

“Good,” he grunts. “Good girl, give it to me.”

The muscle in his bicep spasms and strains beneath the skin, everything pulled taut as he keeps the wand pressed firmly against you. And it’s almost painful, the way you can feel your high coiling inside you, burning, but never quite reaching fever pitch the way you need it to. 

A symphony that builds and billows and writhes within you. Sloping swells of violins and cellos and trumpets. Up, up, up to that shattering crescendo you just can’t seem to reach.

“Joel,” you mewl, and there’s tears in your eyes, on your cheeks. Hot, fat tears that stain your face now, dripping from your chin to splatter against his chest.

“C’mon now,” he grunts, hips shifting up off the bed, meeting you thrust for thrust. The stretch of his cock is so wide, so deep, and every shift of his body punches the air from your lungs.

“I don’t know if I can,” you shake your head, stomach on fire. The vibrations are so intense, the speed so fast, you can feel your clit going numb beneath it. But Joel doesn’t pull away, doesn’t stop the fast pace of his hips. The muscles in his abdomen twitch under you, tan skin glistening with sweat.

“You’re so close,” he goads, jaw tight. “Don’t fight it, baby.”

“Stop moving,” you beg then, your voice a high keen. Joel stills instantly, wary eyes darting across your face. He doesn’t pull the vibrator away though. Not yet.

“Fuck,” you cry out, hand firm against his stomach. “Just let me-just—”

Knees on fire against the bed, you grind your hips down into his. Gasp as his cock presses hot and heavy against something deep inside of you that sets your entire body shaking, vibrating against him; buzzing at the same high-speed rhythm as the wand between your legs. You rut against him again and again and then something pulls tight and hot at the base of your spine.

“Oh, fuck,” you gasp, eyes widening. “Oh god, Joel, I think—”

“Shh, I know, I know,” he moans. A bead of sweat rolls from his hairline to his chin. “You’re okay, let it happen.”

“Touch me,” you say, breathless and needy and so so desperate. “Fuck, please.”

Joel groans – a deep, guttural thing. A sound that comes from somewhere in the base of his stomach. It rattles your bones and has your fingernails digging into his stomach, and then his hand is on your chest. Rough fingers squeezing and stroking and pinching and you’re gasping, keening his name as he whispers frenzied words of encouragement and it’s building it’s building it’s building and and and—

Everything goes silent when you come. It’s all blurred vision and deafened ears; an intense ache in your jaw from the way your mouth hangs open. You can feel a vein in your neck, raging beneath the skin; a staccato rushing sound that echoes inside your head.

And you think you can hear Joel’s voice, somewhere beyond it all; Fuck, there it is, good girl, good fuckin’ girl.

When your eyes flutter open, you can only see Joel’s face swimming in your vision. His eyes rolling back, lips parted as he snarls your name.

“Fuck,” he spits. “—yeah, that’s it, there we fuckin’ go.”

You feel his cock kick inside of you; fast jerking spasms and then a warm rush as he starts to come. Your hand wraps around his, pushing the wand to the side of the bed, but he doesn’t fucking stop. He grips your waist and fucks up into you, spitting curses and warbled slurs of your name as he pumps you full of his hot spend.

It’s obscene – a mix of your come and his, squeezing out around his girth and smearing against the inside of your thighs. It pools around the base of his cock and you whimper at the sight, swollen cunt still tightening around him. Only when you start to sag down against his chest does he rest, his thighs twitching and tensing with the aftershocks of his high.  

Joel raises a hand, calloused thumb brushing the tears from your cheeks. Then, carefully, he grips the back of your neck, guiding you down to rest against his chest.

Your shoulders slump and you press a lazy kiss against the jut of his collarbone. And for a moment there’s just this. No sounds but that of heavy breaths and a soft buzzing, forgotten somewhere in the sheets. The swipe of his fingertips down your spine, your lips against his salty skin. A gentle tap against your waist and he’s slipping out of you with a sigh, but not letting you pull away, not letting you move from where you’ve collapsed directly on top of him.

“Missed that,” you slur sleepily, fighting to keep your eyes open.

“Me too,” he mumbles. “Did so good. Made me proud.”

“S’that right?” you smile against his skin.

“S’right, baby.”

You hum, dragging your head up to press a kiss against his mouth. Both of you so exhausted that it’s just a brief, lazy swipe of your lips, but it’s enough. It’s thank you.

“Shower?” he suggests softly, smiling up at you.  

“Or… cigarette?” you respond, eyebrows raised, teasing.  

“Watch it,” he smarts, laying a quick smack against your ass before nudging you off of him. He stands and holds out a hand to help you off the bed, tutting underneath his breath. “Although I guess you’ve earned it.”

a/n: in hindsight, idk why the fuck i wrote that it took them six months to try this but what can you do lmao.

thank you for reading! x

[silverzoomies]

Turkish Delight

peter maximoff x reader smut

chapter 2: holding out for a hero

link to chapter 1: here

warnings: shameless smut, porn with (slight) plot, mutual masturbation, best friends, dirty talk, kissing, risky sex, teasing, play fighting

word count: 5568

a/n: took me months to get this one done, but it's finally here !! hope it was worth the wait. i'm so freakin' nervous about it, i think i'll explode. thanks for bein' so patient !!💗again, if any russian dialogue needs correcting, lemme know please !! thank you !!

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Peter didn’t want his best pal thinking he’s a total horndog or anything. Contrary to popular belief, he was capable of restraint. Sometimes. But this raging hard-on couldn’t wait. 

And he promised he’d keep you warm, didn’t he? Like you said over the phone…it was cold out today. For all Peter knew, you were freezing your nips off. Alone in bed without a buddy. What kinda selfless superhero would he be - if he didn’t come to your aid when you obviously needed him most?

On the other end of the phone line, emptiness droned for seconds too long. You didn’t get a moment to marvel in the afterglow of orgasmic delight. Instead, anxiety boiled fiercely in the pit of your belly. Between your quivering legs, your own heat left you aching for something more. You sat up quickly in bed. Under the familiar weight of Peter’s jacket, your body burned like hellfire.

Carding your fingers through your bedhead, catching soft hairs under your nails; you spoke into the receiver.

“Peter?” Your voice wavered. More seconds passed in buzzing silence. You waited a moment longer. But only empty static answered your pleas, “Listen, dude, I’m really sorry if I made things awkwa-”

Dammit all. Peter meant to show up a lot sooner.

But he needed to dress himself first, of course. Since he couldn’t exactly go for a quick run across the sea in his boxers. Peter then found the Sokovian pop-up shop that sold your favorite Turkish delights - unfortunately - moved somewhere else. Bummer. Just his luck. Searching for the shop added an extra half-second to Peter’s spontaneous trip.

Which wouldn’t be all that bad. If not for the embarrassing fact that he tripped on his way back.

Into the ocean.

Yeah. By some impossible feat - a record breaking level of stupidity, Peter wiped out. He fell below water and made friends with a colossal tuna fish in the process. Somehow, he spared the Turkish delights any damage. And bidding his newfound, fishy pal farewell, Peter rushed home. Reeking of the ocean, he showered and threw on some fresh clothes.

After a century and a half, he arrived at your window. Realistically, the trip took only twenty seconds tops. And sure - maybe speeding around the globe in only twenty ticks might seem fast to…well…literally anyone else. But to Peter? Quicksilver himself?

C'mon…that's slow on a slow day.

A strong whoosh of wind swept your window, followed by a loud rattle. As if a ginormous bird flew head first into the glass. You parted your lips to scream. But if this were a race - your shriek vs Quicksilver speed - Peter had you beat by a thousand microseconds.

Time moved at a crawl all around him. Slipping in through the window, he stopped at the foot of your bed with a small box tucked under his arm. Whistling along to the tune in his earphones, he tilted his head to the side. Peter's lethargic gaze took a venturous journey across the length of your body. Up and down. Shamelessly. Several times over.

Okay, maybe about thirty four times. But who's counting?

Whoa, baby. Talk about a sight to behold. Curvaceous. So smooth. Nestled in your birthday suit post orgasm. Never before seen by the likes of a certain, silver comrade.

Peter's whistling veered off into stunned silence.

You. Buck naked. In his jacket. After a naughty jam session over the phone. He might need to go a few rounds in the madhouse.

Your pretty legs were stretched out, as you laid all cozy-like in bed. His heavy jacket draped your frame. Swallowing you in its heat, the silver garment kept your tits hidden from view. Even now, those beauties remained a mystery. The suspense made his crotch feel hot. Dragging his eyes down your tummy, Peter stopped at the dip between your legs.

Au naturel.

Sometime during his ocean getaway; he lost the boner that led him to you in the first place. But now, naturally, his dick twitched to hardness. Peter's coffee bean eyes widened. His throat bobbed as he swallowed. Jeez…c'mon, guy! Just cool your jets. Take it easy.

He drew in a slow breath. Peter climbed over top of you as time finally caught up with him. With a knee resting between your legs, he loomed from above and clamped a hand over your mouth. Your scream ate his dust in a race against time, muffled under his palm.

His sudden appearance brought along a cool breeze. Chilly air welcomed its bite into your room. With only his jacket to keep you warm, you shivered. Aha! Just as he thought. You were freezing your nips off. Good thing Peter had the foresight to come by and help you out. Lest you freeze to death.

And wouldn't that put a damper on this unexpectedly great day? Your safety was of uber importance. Most definitely the primo reason for his visit. Even if the stiff tent in his jeans told a different story.

Peter's familiar eyes glistened, pupils blown with lustful anticipation. Silver strands of his hair fell over his brows. He kept his hand sealed over your mouth. Bringing his other hand up, he made a frantic shushing gesture. You furrowed your brows, yelping a muffled - Peebur??

“Hey! Hey! Hey! Shhhhh! It's cool, babe! It's…look, it's just me.” He whispered.

Pulling his hand from your mouth, Peter sat upright over your legs. His denim-clad knee nudged the drapery of your sex. Its heat was impossible to miss. But he forced himself to focus on your cute face instead.

“S'up. Uh, how's it goin’? Wow. Phew. Some wicked hot phone call that was, amiright?” Peter sheepishly chuckled.

“You little-” You playfully swatted him, smacking Peter on the arm.

Feelin’ feisty today, are we? The shock of his BNE must've unlocked some hidden strength inside you. After a few weak blows, one of your hits landed with accidental force. Peter winced, rubbing his arm as he hissed through his teeth.

“Ow!? Jeez! Touchy touchy!” He complained, holding his whisper, “Расслабься (relax)! Take it easy, babe!”

“Sorry! I'm sorry! But you scared the shit out of me! I almost peed myself!”

You leered your pretty eyes up at him. He cheesed a grin, leaning over you on all fours. Peter teased your pussy with his knee, barely inching forward. Your lingering arousal stained the denim there. A husky laugh bubbled low in his throat.

“Ohhhhh…is that why you're so wet?”

You squealed and smacked him on the arm again. Okay. He deserved that one, for sure. Peter almost felt bad for making you shit bricks. Still, he couldn't help but laugh. The scrunchy look of frustration on your face made him snort. He covered his mouth to conceal it, but his dimples ultimately gave him away.

“Don't laugh at me! I thought some creep broke in or something!” You huffed.

“I'm sorry! I just can't take you seriously when you're lookin’ pissed off like that. It's…it's cute, okay?"

“You're such a jackass.”

Peter hummed, lips pursed and contemplative.

“Yeah. Maybe.”

He shrugged, pulling a pink box from behind his back. A silver string decorated the box, tied in a sloppy bow. Grinning, Peter let his eyes fall half lidded. He slowly blinked. Even with his libido cranked up to eleven, he appeared unfazed as ever. Characteristically aloof.

“But this jackass brought you Turkish delights…so…”

For a fraction of a second, an electrifying flash sparkled in your gaze.

You rolled your eyes promptly after, “You’re sweet. But my family’s home.” You warned. Peter frowned, tipping his head back with an indignant groan, “Peter, I’m serious! We really can’t-”

He tore open the box, pushing a powdery candy past your lips. The sweet treat melted over your tongue and coated your taste buds in its fragrance. A joyous smile reclaimed your lips. Totally worth Peter’s accidental, oceanic wipe out. He chuckled again, popping a candy into his mouth before tossing the box away somewhere.

“Fiiiinnnnnne. I guess you found my only weakness. That’s heavenly.” Your voice stayed hushed as you spoke. Peter’s eyes flicked down to your lips, drawn to the pinch of powdered sugar left there, “But I’m not kidding, dude. If anyone catches you like this-”

Burdened with speedster impatience, Peter cut you off again. This time, not with a heavenly treat - but with an unexpected kiss. It happened on impulse, so careless and without a lick of hesitation. You squeaked into his lips, your eyes widening and quickly fluttering shut. Peter’s lips curved against yours in a victory smirk, the moment he realized you gave in.

The natural chemistry between you both flickered, igniting like a hot spark. That is, if the spark were an awkward display of experimental nuzzling. Magnetized to your soft lips, he almost fought the urge to part. His nose brushed your skin as he went for your neck. Peter covered your flesh in mouthy smooches. And when he got a little too greedy, he nibbled instead.

“Mmmmm…d’ywanna…y’know…” Peter rolled his hips into yours, nudging you with his bulge. Raising his head from your neck with a sloppy sound, his silver brows darted up and down - up and down. Playfully allusive. The tips of his fingers drew light lines down your belly, “‘Cuz I was really into the way you were talkin’ back there. All that freaky stuff you said about my fingers. And my speed. And my, uh…”

What a supreme understatement. Apparently, you were capable of spouting some outrageously juicy stuff. Even Peter didn't have the nutsack to repeat those words out loud.

“Peter…”

“Please? C'mon, I can be sooo quick about it, babe. You know me! Speed's the name of the game.”

Whatever happened to that frisky courage you had before? You weren't getting cold feet on him already, were you?

Your tiny hands rested on his broad shoulders, fingers curling into his grey flannel. Shifting your gaze bashfully, you chewed your lip. In reality, you didn't expect Peter to show up like this unprompted. Especially not with your family at home. There was a strong chance they'd catch you two in the act any moment. And the prospect of that freaked you out way more than banging your bestie.

Best case scenario; he would've been patient enough to wait for you. You'd drive to his place and meet him in his (mom's) basement. Where he'd quickly fuck your brains out to the tune of whatever song he left playing. You'd play some Mario Kart afterwards. And thanks to his ravenous libido, he'd drill you dumb again. And later, maybe even a third time.

Of course, the fact that you expected Peter Maximoff to be patient at all was entirely your fault. Right after you got him horny on the promise of pussy? Nah. Hindsight's twenty/twenty when your best friend's a hot-blooded speedster.

Since you took too long to give him an answer, Peter’s attention fixed elsewhere. He let his eyes dance all across your body again. Scanning every inch of smooth, visible skin and following silver creases in the jacket you wore. Until something lying by your side caught his eye. A small, bundled up wad of baby pink cloth.

Oh, helllllooooooooo. What’s this?

You were struck with a beat of realization, but had no time to react. Peter plucked your panties into his grasp. And judging by the mortified look on your face, followed by a petrified peep - yeah, he totally scored. Big time. What a steal! Your damp panties dangled from his fingers, and Peter’s brows rose under his bangs.

“Dude, wait! I can explain-”

“Ah. Black lace, huh?” He smirked.

Ты маленькая грязная лгунья (You dirty little liar)! Your panties looked nothing like you described over the phone. Baby pink. Lined with girly frills. Peppered in a pattern of cutesy, rubber duckies. Kind of adorable, in truth. But majorly humiliating for you. Peter’s grin turned even more impish, highlighting his dimples yet again. He snickered, waving the evidence of your naughty deception in front of you. Teasingly, he nudged his knee closer into your sex, making your breath hitch.

“L-Listen, in my defense, I didn’t think you’d find rubber duckies all that sexy.” You clarified, like a total lame-O.

Without thinking, he brought your panties to his nose. Peter’s hooded eyes fluttered and rolled back. He hummed something like a low growl. All devilish and, as per usual, carrying zero shame.

The apples of your cheeks burned exceptionally hotter, “Seriously?” You mumbled through a barely audible exhale of breath.

Nope. As a matter of fact, he wasn’t taking any of this seriously.

“And to think, I was totally honest with you about my Star Wars socks.” Peter clicked his tongue, shaking his head, “Were you pullin’ my leg when you said they were hot? You deceiver. You’re really breakin’ my heart, y’know?”

Adorable, the way you crossed your arms and puffed your cheeks. You blinked, and your panties vanished out of thin air. Almost like a magic trick. And if you thought Peter tossed them away, you were naive for assuming so. But, hey…would you mind at all? If you knew he stuffed them into his back pocket for safe keeping?

No? Cool. Finders keepers.

“Noooo! I wasn’t lying. They were totally hot. Actually…I couldn’t stop thinking about how sexy you’d look in them.” You teased, obviously full of shit. Peter rolled his eyes. But as you giggled and tilted your head down; you flitted your lashes and gave him a babydoll look. With the addition of a tempting lip bite, no less, “Wanna take those pants off and show me? You said you’d be quick, right?”

There it was. Your freaky confidence made a brief, cameo appearance. Peter's blood took a downward jump at light speed. His dick pulsed eagerly in his boxers. Flirty passes coming from you seemed to rewire his brain chemistry in a big way. He knitted his lips to the side, scratching the back of his neck.

“Can’t.”

“Awww…why not, huh? Are you embarrassed? You know you don't have to be. Not around me.” You cooed, and the sweet, caring nature of your voice made him blush.

“Nah. I know. It’s not that. It's just…they kinda got soaked?”

“They got…what? How does that even happen?”

Cradling his face in your palm, you urged him to meet your eyes. To tell you the ridiculous story he hadn't planned on telling you until, well…after you both boned. The sweet scent of your pussy on your fingers kept him distracted. An instinctive shudder raced through his body. Peter pressed a kiss to your palm once, twice, thrice. Just for good measure. 

His cheeks pinkened further, “Eh, I might've wiped out on the way here. Took a quick swim in the Atlantic. I met a super sized tuna fish and everything. Called him Quint. You've seen Jaws, right?”

What the hell was he on about now?? Peter caught himself before he got any further off track.

“Uh, anyways, whatevs. No biggie. At least it wasn't a jumbo sized shark ‘er anything. Pffbbttt.” 

“So, you're telling me…you were so eager to get laid; you tripped on water? You big doofus.”

You snickered so hard, you snorted. Cute. Peter sighed. Grinning crookedly, he brought his hand to yours over his cheek. He guided your hand lower and took you on a short journey. The destination? Boner city. You felt his thick bulge in your tiny palm. Trailing a few teasing nibbles up your neck, Peter's heated chuckles turned your skin to gooseflesh.

“Har. Har. Har. Laugh it up, why don't you? Lil miss rubber duckies.”

Peter rolled his hips down into your hand, once more alluding to his pent-up frustration. You’d taken so long to give him the green light; Peter could’ve raced overseas again, nearly drowned, and returned - ten times over. Again, you parted your lips to (probably) protest. And again, Peter cut you off with another feverish kiss. His sizable hands pulled your legs further apart. You mewled softly against his lips, as his knee kept teasing your cunt.

“Доверься мне (Trust me). D’you trust me?” He mumbled.

You answered with even sloppier tongue action, catching him off guard. Peter never thought he’d kiss your velvet lips like this. Relishing every second. Your nails scraped the back of his neck, triggering something primal inside him. With your other hand, you felt his dick twitch in his jeans. He trembled, whining into your mouth and pushing himself closer. His kisses delved deeper, his tongue catching the flavor of that Turkish delight.

“Ты такой сладкий (You’re so sweet)...”

“Ohmygod.” You whined. Whispers of breathy moans laced through your kisses like threads, “I’m sorry, but that’s so hot. Keep talking like that? Please?”

As you giggled, looking a little shy; Peter laughed. While your kisses were more of a soft and delicate variety; his were firm, but quick. Anticipating the next several, before they even happened.

“Is it? You really think so? Mmm…dunno if I believe you. Обманщик (Deceiver). You lyin’ again? ‘Cuz if you are...I have ways of findin' out…”

His big hands wandered, moving in a rush. As much as he wanted to spend the next eternity blowing your mind with righteous foreplay; Peter needed to speed things along. He kissed your neck, teeth nipping your skin - because for some reason, with you, he was just so...bitey. Further down, he parted the jacket you wore, revealing your tits in full. Perfect and supple. Outrageously bitchin’. Even prettier than whatever he imagined over the phone.

“Наконец (Finally)...” He mumbled, mostly to himself.

Peter squeezed the fullness of your breasts in his hands, thumbs rolling your nipples. His swollen lips enveloped one of your tits like a hungry man starved. Carelessly swirling his tongue, he sucked your stiff nub hard. A boob-induced haze clouded his prior sense of urgency. You ran a hand through his hair and tugged him back with a gentle jerk. Peter’s voice broke in a low whine. His tongue chased your poor, sore nipple again.

“Подожди (Wait)! Waiiit…’m not done…” He buried his face lazily between your breasts and took a moment to inhale. Before motorboating your rockin’ titties. Peter groaned like he’d never get enough. As he pulled back, he giggled like a dork, “Hohhh…I seriously think I might be in love with these things.”

Exchanging hot breaths and hushed chuckles, you both explored each other's bodies with your hands. Peter’s sneakers scraped the sheets of your bed, knocking your blankets to the floor. While you took initiative with his zipper, his fingers trailed under your navel. The tips of his digits teased your pretty slit. At last. Peter felt for himself, how much of a soaked mess you were over his two-tongued dirty talk.

“Fuuuck, you weren't messin’ with me, were you, принцесса (princess)?”

Parting your slick lips, he sank two digits into your quivering heat. Your plush pussy welcomed his fingers with sweltering tears of gratitude. Wet as fuuuuuuck. His fat thumb teased your clit. Expertly fondling your helpless, little bud. You froze just as you pulled his jeans apart. A dangerous squeal threatened to echo through your room. But you swallowed it, squeezing your eyes shut. 

“Черт возьми (Damn it)...sucks I gotta rush this…” Peter huffed, plunging his digits deeper, “Really wanna take my time for once…”

You blindly felt for his bulge with clumsy hands. After giving his hard-on a loving squeeze, you tugged the front of his boxers down. As soon as his leaky cock bobbed in the open, you grabbed and held on tight. A quick glance downward, and you admired the shape and size of him. Girthy in your palm. Smooth, veiny, and pulsing as you tugged him. 

And while you may have told a few little, white lies over the phone. Peter most definitely didn't. His thick cock turned an almost lilac hue at the head, the more you teased him. Peter shivered, bunching his shoulders and arching his back. You stroked him for a beat more. Until he guided you elsewhere, lining his dick where you both urgently wanted him to be. Barely nudging his tip into your weepy slit, he flitted his hooded gaze up to meet yours.

“You good? ‘M not gonna hold back, if you-”

The carefree banter between the two of you never ceased. Despite any nervousness, you gave him a coy smile. Lips pouty and eyes lookin' lusty. You ghosted his lips with a teasing whisper.

"Peter, babe, Please. You are soooooo slow. Just go for it, yeah? You need me to beg?"

His eyes widened, and he cheesed another goofy grin, "Actually, yeah, that'd be awesome."

Giggling sweetly, you swallowed your nerves, finding that courage buried deep within.

"Come on, Quickie. Fuck me, please?"

Peter felt his dick spasm, leaking from the tip, spilling over your pearly clit.

“Shhhhh. Relaaax. I got this, babe. I got it. Just…”

His eyes dropped to your cunt, watching as he sheathed his needy cock in your fluttery slit. Peter's mouth fell open, brows curling inward. He bottomed out with a generous swing of his hips, and your snug, sticky heat made way for his visit. But not without the tiniest hint of resistance.

Breathlessly, he mumbled, “...just…oh…oh, you're tighter than I…thought…fuck. That's...”

Steamy gasps filtered your room, replacing erotic moans that didn’t dare slip. Sharing endless kisses, the two of you bumped noses and whirled your tongues. Making the most fun you could out of so little time. And as teasing playfulness intensified, consuming you both in awesome exhilaration; neither one of you could resist getting handsy. Touching all over. Squeezing. Feeling everything that was way out of bounds just a few hours prior. Peter rocked in and out of you fast enough to make your bed knock against the wall.

“Not too fast! Not too-” You mewled, your hands rubbing his shoulders, nails clawing down his chest over his shirt, "Fuck, the bed. Don't-"

“Shhh. Shhhh. Okay, baby. I gotcha. I-” Peter snickered, his troublemaker giggles quickly obscured by winded moans, “Ебать (Fuck)…” He whined, slowing the motion of his thrusts. Soaking in the fuzzy sensation of your spongy, wet heat cuddling his cock, “Ощущается так хорошо (Feels so good).”

Burying his reddened face in your titties, he squeezed one of those beauties in his hand. Watching in a trance, as they bounced in time with every push and drag of his cock. A lil too enthralled, Peter got ahead of even himself. He recklessly rolled you over. Hoping to see your tits go jiggle jiggle jiggle from another perspective. Until…

Peter brought you down to the floor with him by accident. Oof, he was all kinds of clumsy today, huh? Landing flat on his back with a thunderous thud, he sat up on his elbows. He gaped up at you with a dazed look, ogling the way your tits bunched and squished over his chest. Nipples so perky and brushing his shirt fabric. Oh, yeah. He was hella smitten with those puppies.

“Shit!” You cursed under your breath.

Peter blinked himself out of his second booby haze of the evening. On quivering knees, you tried to find your balance. After you both took a rough tumble to the floor, his cock unsheathed itself from your cozy heat. Throbbing and slick, Peter’s dick bounced. Eager to fuck you senseless again.

“Простите (sorry)! Sorry! You okay, babe?” Peter whispered, settling his warm palms over your ass.

An ass which he hadn’t taken the time to really feel yet. And no surprise, your plump cheeks were just as bodacious as the rest of you. He palmed and squeezed them, getting his fill while he still had the chance.

“I’m okay! Are you?” You chewed your lip again, tilting your head to the side. Giving Peter that same kittenish, doe-like look, ‘M gonna get in sooooo much trouble because of you, Pietro.”

Well…when you said it like that; slurred and giggly, drunk on the filthy thrill of everything so him. Peter chose to ignore whatever risks seemed to weigh on the back of your mind. Rolling the two of you over once more, he held his dick by the shaft and slipped inside your cunt. That familiar, comfy warmth welcomed him in again. He whispered your name, embellished with his natural accent.

And just as Peter set course to give you a good drilling; at your door, the knob jiggled. Pulling you out of euphoric stasis instantaneously. The two of you stilled, eyes wide, glancing between each other and to the door. Back and forth. Back and forth. Upon finding your door locked, mystery whoever on the other side knocked instead.

“Hey, are you alright? What was that noise I heard? Did you fall?” Mystery voice called from the void.

And what a golden - or silver, rather - opportunity they presented. Peter blinked, leering intensely down at your stunned face. His eyes gleamed mischievous lust. Within the embrace of your luscious walls, his cock twitched with interest. The length pulsed upward into pillowy heat.

A subtle nod to a fun, little scheme he quickly cooked up.

But he needed something to drown out the soon-to-be sound of speedy hanky panky. With a careful movement, Peter brought a hand to the Walkman clipped loosely on his jeans. Having memorized the buttons, he knew how to work it by muscle memory.

Loosening the earphone jack, his thick fingers clicked - a button here, a button there. And voilà. Bonnie Tyler's Holding Out for a Hero began to play. Ah, yeah. The good ol' Footloose soundtrack. He'd now dub it the soundtrack to your first, shared romp together. Which was kinda fitting. Before he showed up, you were technically holdin' out for a hero. Your eyes flicked to the source of the music, then back up to him. You gave him a ‘what the fuck are you doing’ kinda look.

Peter bit his lip, the corners of his grin curling into a diabolical smirk. As your brows knitted in suspicion; he rolled his hips sloooooowly back. You shook your head silently. Retracting his cock halfway, he took less than a millisecond to launch his hardness into your cervix. The motion knocked the wind from your chest. Covering your mouth, head thrown back; you scratched your nails into the carpet.

He arched a brow. One of his hands darted to your wrist, tugging in an attempt to unseal your mouth. Even with his dick buried deep in your insides, weakening your defenses; you fought back. You jerked away, which only encouraged him more. Peter bit his tongue to hold back a snicker. A few feisty slaps on your end, and you both fell into a play fighting frenzy. Your overstimulated cunt rippled around his dick, as he pinned your wrists to the floor.

Mystery voice called your name again. Their tone reflected growing concern for you. But you couldn't make out what they said over Bonnie Tyler amped up to high volume. Peter’s gaze stayed hard locked on yours. Picking up speed, pounding into you raw and rolling his cock so deep; he knitted his brows and nodded towards the door. As if to say - go on, say something already.

“I-I’m fine! I just…yeah, I, uh…I fell out of bed!” You yelled over the music. Your voice hitched, squeaking at the tailend. A scorching surge of ecstasy burst through your core. Continuously building, as Quicksilver focused entirely on rearranging your insides. It seemed impossible, but you managed to choke out,  “I’m oh-...okay now!”

“You fell? Are you sure you’re alright?” Ебена мать (Holy shit). Mystery voice refused to step down. They raised their tone to a high enough octave, you finally heard. The doorknob jiggled again, “I thought you said you were going somewhere tonight?”

“I-I am! I was!” You swallowed your whimpers, steadily losing your composure.

Growing hazier with every bold, speedy thrust; you raised your legs and locked them in a vice grip around him. Now, Peter had free reign to pound your tight channel at whatever speed struck his fancy. He knew after this - no man you slept with would ever dream of matching his god-given talent.

Hot white pulses of mind-altering pleasure rattled through your bones. Blocking out the sensation of rug burn itching your lower back. Your wrists tingled like pins and needles under Peter’s hold. At the corners of your glossy eyes, excessive pleasure made your tears drip in clots. Peter leaned in, muttering soft praises in your ear, broken only by his own whimpers.

“Хорошая девочка. Это моя хорошая девочка (Good girl. That’s my good girl). Это слишком быстро? Слишком быстро для тебя? Хочешь, чтобы я замедлился (Is this too fast? Too fast for you? Do you want me to slow down)?”

You responded with a tightly wound, whispery little “Fuuuuuuuck!”

And mystery voice. Bless their innocent soul. They still hadn't left you to your business. It took all the willpower left simmering inside you, to finally muster the brain cell to respond.

“I have to-” A high-pitched hiccup in your breath cut you off. Another, more kittenish squeal threatened to tumble from your lips unprompted, “Hold on! I have to get dressed! I’ll be out in a sec!”

By now, you couldn’t fathom where your pleasure was even coming from. Peter made quite the first impression in the bedroom, drilling your poor pussy to numbness. A powerful wave of blissful vibrations erupted from…somewhere. It ripped through your insides like the speediest of shockwaves. Freeing your tired wrists, Peter lifted your hips. His desperate, horny instincts then took over.

The last wave of your orgasm compressed your walls, locking his dick in a slippery death grip. As you shuddered around him, making a beautiful, sticky mess of his spent hardness; he pulled out.

Caught up in the heat of the moment, his dumb sex brain told him: Dude, cum on those titties. Which he did. Acting fast, he grabbed the thick base of his cock and stroked 'til he burst.

"Oh, fuck. Oh, shit. Oh, shit. Oh sh-" He moaned.

With a look of lazy, fucked out awe on your face; you watched your bestie's ruddy dick pulsate. Generously decorating your soft tits in heated, white jets - along with the jacket you wore.

His jacket. And not just any old jacket. But one of his favorite jackets.

“Ебать! Ебать (Fuck! Fuck)!” He panted, swiping fresh cum - Eugh...yuck - from the jacket. His face scrunched in a grimace, “Awwww, man! Goddammit. Figures.”

Sometime later (only three minutes), you laid lazily on your back next to your bestest pal in the whole world; staring up at the glow-in-the-dark stars decorating your ceiling. Outside, the evening already drove the sun into darkness. With only a sliver of orange light left in the distance, beyond your open window.

Peter already did the work, taking care of himself and speedily cleaning you up. An overall, blissful numbness pooled in your veins. You sleepily blinked, watching the stars on the ceiling quickly morph into...Peter's face? The confused expression overtaking your features seemed to put things into perspective for him. Like...shit...he really did a number on you, huh?

"You're still comin' over tonight, right?" He asked, prodding your cheek with his pointer finger, "Riiiight? I got a Gameboy waitin' for us and everything, dude."

Your lips slowly parted. But before you could mutter a single, breathless word; Peter delicately patted your cheek. In a blink, he stood to his feet and straightened himself out. Bringing his goggles down over his eyes, shimmying them into place; he threw you a casual salute.

"Awesome possum. Meetcha there."

He vanished out the window, leaving you to lie there on the floor. Naked as the day you were born, albeit bundled up in his jacket. Another thirty seconds passed in post sex-with-a-speedster bliss. 

And then, a shrill ringing dragged you back down to reality. You winced, narrowing your eyes and steadily pushing yourself to your knees. Loose, noodly limbs fumbled for the handset to your phone. It took you a few tries, scrambling to get a hold of it. Clearing your throat, you pressed the phone to your ear.

"Hello?"

"You ready yet?" Peter asked.

He lazed on the sofa in his (mom's) basement, his Garfield phone resting in his lap like a kitten having a catnap. The vibrant, orange cord curled around his finger as he absentmindedly toyed with it. Dawning a cheeky, dimple grin, Peter popped a candy into his mouth. He bounced a leg in rapid beats.

"You're kidding, right?" You chuckled, mussing your hair, completely overspent.

"Uh, no? Hurry up, will you? Don't forget my jacket. I gotta toss it in the wash. And, oh!" Peter chewed just a touch louder, smacking his lips, "Took your Turkish delights, by the by. So, if you want 'em...eh? Ehhh?" He wiggled his brows.

As you listened to Peter ramble about...whatever the hell; you searched for your panties. Checking the bed, then the floor. They were nowhere to be found. As if they seemingly disappeared, never to be seen again. You sighed, cradling the base of your phone in an arm, the handset nestled between your cheek and shoulder. 

"Hey, Peter?"

"Yeah? What's up, cutie? You headin' out?"

"Dude, where the hell are my panties?"

No answer. Nothing but an off-hook tone, droned on and on.

[lostgirlmuseum]

Who the Hell is Daryl?

Summary: Bucky is in love with you, and finally finds the courage to tell you. But what happens when it sounds like someone else is already in the picture? (Miscommunication!)

Pairing: Bucky Barnes x f!Avenger!Reader

Words: 2k

Warnings: Miscommunication trope! Only one small mention of “Y/N”, teensy bit of yelling, let me know if I missed anything.

A/N: Wrote this a couple days ago and put it in drafts, spontaneously posted bc I'm procrastinating on an essay. Okay I'll get back to hw now :(

Dividers: @firefly-graphics

He was going to do it. He was really going to do it. 

He was finally going to ask you out.

-----

To the surprise of everyone on the team, you and Bucky had become fast pals after you joined six months ago. Something about the two of you clicked. ‘Opposites attract’ and all that, but Bucky always felt it went deeper than that.

The two of you had never argued, something he felt very proud of, considering he argued with most people. But not you. Never you.

The moment he decided that he needed to man up and ask you out wasn’t anything fancy. You were sparring with Wanda across the gym, and he was simply watching you work in tandem. He watched the entire 15 minute session, and didn’t take his eyes off you, even as you approached him. 

“Buck, I’m out of water, can I take a sip of yours?”

He nodded, “Sure, Doll,” and tossed you his bottle. 

You shot him a charming smile and opened the cap, and not-so-gracefully chugged half the bottle. You wiped your upper lip and handed it back to him. 

“Thanks, Jamie,” you breathily said, and jogged back to the arena. 

His head was completely empty except for a single thought, tumbling through his desert mind like a tumbleweed.

I’m going to marry her someday.

He shocked himself with the thought, he wasn’t sure where it had come from. But he couldn’t help the grin that snuck its way onto his lips as he realized he didn’t disagree with the thought.

Of course before marriage is dating. One step at a time Buck. 

After his realization, he had spent the next three days planning the perfect way to ask you out. He went through an entire list of ideas, but none of them seemed good enough for you. He wanted it to be perfect. But as the clock ticked on and he started running out of paper, he realized it was best to just be honest about his feelings. 

You had just gotten back from a solo mission, and Bucky was hanging out in your room as you showered.

He was blushing like an idiot and fidgeting like crazy on your bed as he waited for you to hurry up. It was surprising he had so much self control as to not blurt it out while you were showering.

“Oh, Bucky,” you called from the bathroom, the sound of the water pausing.

“What’s up?”

“Could you set an alarm on my phone for 7:30 A.M. tomorrow before I forget? I think I left it on the side table.”

“You got it, Doll.”

“You’re the best! I’m almost done, I’ll be out in like two minutes,” you called, and soon after the sound of rushing water resumed.

Bucky grabbed your phone and typed in the passcode, his heart fluttering a little as he thought about how you trusted him enough to know it.

But the flutter stopped almost as quickly as it started, the moment your phone turned on and resumed on your text string with someone. He would’ve ignored it, but a red heart at the top of the screen caught his eye.

Who the hell is “Daryl,” and why does he have a heart emoji next to his name?

Bucky couldn’t help himself as his eyes flitted over your last texts.

Daryl ❤️ I’m back in town, lemme know when you’re around 

You About to leave for a quick mission, but I’ll be back tmw evening. I miss you sm :( how about we meet up Monday morning at 8 at Bernie’s cafe?

Daryl ❤️ Lets do it. And I miss you too, can’t wait to see your beautiful face!! I love you, be careful

You Love you too, and Im always careful 😘

Bucky felt sick to his stomach. You had never mentioned a brother named Daryl, or any other kind of family member. And you’d told him about all your closest friends, and none of them were named Daryl. How did Bucky not know you had a boyfriend?

Bucky fought the urge to scroll up, and quickly tapped out of the app, and set the alarm you asked him to set. 

So you were meeting this “Daryl” tomorrow morning?

Bucky heard the water stop, and the sound of the shower curtain shuffling.

Shit. You were getting out. Fuck, he wasn’t ready to face you.

You’d never mentioned you were in a relationship before. He would remember. How long have you been dating? And more importantly, why did you keep this from him? Did you feel like you couldn’t trust him? Maybe you weren’t as close friends as he’d thought.

“Which movie did you want to watch tonight?” You asked, peeking out of the door with a turquoise towel wrapped around you.

“Um, I’m actually really tired, suddenly. I think I’m going to go to bed.” Bucky stuttered, avoiding your gaze as he quickly stood up.

“Oh, okay,” you responded, disappointment and concern lacing your voice. “Everything okay?”

“Everything is fine. Glad you got back safe. Good night.”

With that, Bucky ducked out of your room and practically ran back to his.

Bucky tossed and turned, and once he got over his embarrassment, he settled into a familiar depressive feeling. Of course you didn’t like him back. What the fuck was he thinking? He’s—well, he’s Bucky. Broken, only destined to ever be your friend. How could he be foolish enough to think you would love him like he loves you. At about hour 4, the heartbreak started turning into betrayal. Betrayal that you kept this from him. And soon enough, that betrayal festered into a kind of resentment, something he’d never felt for you before.

He didn’t get much sleep that night.

Bucky checked the clock for the 20th time in the past 5 minutes. 7:45 A.M. You were probably about to leave. Bucky felt his heart clench. He was usually up by 7, and eating breakfast in the common area by 7:30. He sat at the barstool, dragging his spoon around his now soggy Coco Puffs, waiting for you to appear. Why he felt the need to torture himself, he didn’t know.

Finally, he heard your steps coming down the hall. 

And there you appeared, wearing the most beautiful sundress he had ever seen. It was lavender, and had small white flowers adorning the skirt, and it fell just above your knees. 

Bucky took you in, and his momentary adoration turned back to his heartbreak. You were dressed up as if you were going on a date. There was no chance this wasn’t your boyfriend.

“Good morning Bucky, did you sleep okay last night?” 

“Yes.” He lied. Maybe you would tell him the truth if he asked. Yes it would hurt hearing the truth from your mouth, but he wanted to give you a chance to tell him your secret. “Where are you headed?”

“To meet a friend,” you nodded smoothly. 

Maybe Bucky was crazy. Maybe he was overthinking all of this. Maybe Daryl really was just a friend.

“Which friend?”

“Penny.”

So you were just flat out lying to him now. Bucky nodded and waited for you to leave before moping back to his room. He wanted to cry. And he did for a minute, or two, but his tears turned from sad to angry when he remembered you were now lying. You never lied to Bucky, and Bucky never lied to you. At least, he thought that was how it was. He clenched his fists, mad at you for betraying him, but more mad at himself for believing he could ever have you.

He didn’t move from his bed.

“Bucky?” Your voice emerged after three knocks to his door.

He couldn’t get himself to respond. 

The door slowly creaked open, a stream of light flooding his dark room.

“Hey Buck. You okay? You seemed a little off this morning.”

“Fine.” He mumbled, not turning over in bed to face you.

A pause. 

“Jamie, what’s wrong?” You asked, closing the door behind you and flicking on the light. 

“Don’t call me that.”

“What?” You asked, slightly taken aback. You thought he loved your affectionate nickname for him.

“I don’t want you to call me ‘Jamie’ anymore.”

“Okay…”

He felt the bed dip as you sat next to him. 

“Bucky,” you whispered, “please talk to me.”

He sat up and gave you a pointed look. Was he being immature? Yes. But what could he do, he just discovered that his best friend has been lying to him, and doesn’t love him.

“Where were you?” He asked.

You furrowed your brows a moment, trying to piece together where he was going with this. 

“I was at Bernie’s with Penny.”

“Don’t lie to me.” He sneered.

Your eyes widened at his bite.

“I’m not lying? Bucky, what is going on?”

“What’s going on is that you’ve been keeping the fact that you have a boyfriend from me. Why don’t you want to tell me?”

“A boyfriend?” You blinked. “I don’t have a boyfriend,”

“Why won’t you be honest with me?” He yelled, and you scooted back.

“I am!”

“Then who is Daryl?”

“What?”

“I saw your texts last night, when you asked me to set your alarm.” Bucky looked down at his lap, ashamed.

“Bucky,” you sighed, and a look of understanding crossed your face. A moment later you held out your phone to him.

“What?” He asked, dumbly looking at your outstretched hand. The screen was on your text string with Daryl.

“Call the number.” You simply said.

“What?” He repeated.

“Take my phone, and call the number.”

Confused and suspicious, Bucky grabbed your phone and hesitated over the call icon. 

“Go ahead,” you urged.

He pressed the button. 

Ring.

Ring.

Ri—

“Hey!” A familiar feminine voice rang through the speaker. “What’s up hon?”

“Hello?” Bucky said, looking from the phone to you to the phone.

“Uh, hi? Is that Bucky?”

“P—Penny?” He sputtered.

“Hey Bucky! What’s up, is everything okay? I thought Y/N was calling.”

“Hey Pen,” you interjected, “Everything’s fine, I’ll call you back in a bit, kay’?”

“Sure thing, bye, love ya,” Penny added, and hung up.

Bucky stared at the now blank phone, baffled.

“I don’t understand.”

“Bucky,” you sighed, and tilted his chin to look at you. “I don’t have a boyfriend. Penny is in my contacts as “Daryl” because it’s my funny little nickname for her. My Dad has had a best friend since grade school named Daryl, and they don’t see each other often, but when they do it’s like nothing has changed. They get along like no time has passed. I call Penny “my Daryl” because I know that even if we don’t talk for years, we are so close that I know we would be the exact same.”

Bucky sat quietly for a moment, simply taking in your story. He felt really stupid.

“I’m sorry,” he started, “I shouldn’t have yelled at you. I’m sorry I called you a liar.” He struggled to meet your gaze, ashamed of what he did.

“Jamie—can I call you Jamie now?”

He nodded sheepishly.

“Jamie, I forgive you. But I wish you had just talked to me about it, and asked me. We are usually so good about being open with each other. What happened?” You asked, wide eyes looking into his.

“I know, I’m sorry. I flipped out, I guess I was just shocked, because I was going to—” he licked his lips, “well, I was…”

“You can tell me, Bucky. Honesty, remember?” You soothed, placing your hand on his leg.

He gulped.

“I was going to ask you to be with me.”

You tilted your head, not quite understanding.

“Like, I was gonna ask if you’d let me be your boyfriend.” He mumbled. “So when I saw that you were texting and saying ‘I love you’ to some guy, I guess I was just blindsided.”

“James,” you smiled, moving yourself to sit on his lap. You brought your forehead against his. “You silly, jealous man.” You gently stroked his cheek with your right hand. “You want to be my boyfriend?"

"It sounds so juvenile, I don't know, I just want you to be mine, and for you to call me 'yours,'" he mumbled.

"I accept," you giggled, and watched his glittering eyes shoot to yours.

He had started to say something, but he stopped when you brought your soft lips to his.

“I'm so happy,” he whispered between kisses.

Suffice it to say, Bucky completed step one of the path to marrying you.

A/N: Tysm for reading! If you liked it, please feel free to let me know!

Also I'm sorry if the ending sucks, I wrote this in a couple hours and Idk why I'm so bad at endings gahh

Here's my Masterlist if you'd like to read more!

[vifilms]

whats hers is mine | abby anderson

tags: eighteen+, wlw, sexual content, gf’s roommate!abby, toxic!abby, cheating (don't go cheating on your partners this is for fantasy purposes babe), abby fr is menance in this.

an. yeah! i was horny so...this literally came out of my brain so smoothly. do i hate it? yes. but am i still going to post it nd fight my brain telling me not to? yeah! happy reading my h*rny pals.

abby being your girlfriend’s roommate who you harbor a slight attraction towards. it’s nothing big, you have this under control, or at least it’s what you tell yourself. she’s hot, gorgeous, so incredibly muscular it makes you see stars. it tears you apart thinking of all the ways her strength could make you submit to her will.

make you hers.

fuck. but you have a girlfriend.

it’s a reminder you have to repeat over in your mind anytime you catch yourself being too flirty with her, but then she gives it to you right back. now, every night you dream of her milky skin, stunning blues looking right at you, and those soft lips caressing every inch of your skin, leaving marks in their path as abby stakes her claim. yet, you wake up with your girlfriend’s arm around you with your chest feeling warm at the fantasy of someone else. you have to avoid abby before you do something completely idiotic.

yet, she’s the first one to make the first move.

abby knows you’ve been avoiding her like the plague, so when she’s presented with a perfect opportunity, the conflict at hand is met with absolutely no resistance.

“abby, you’ve blocked my car in. can you move yours?” you ask through the shut door. she gives you a soft yes and when you’re two seconds from walking downstairs to meet her in the driveway.

she opens the fucking bathroom door.

water drips down sunkissed freckled skin, glistening from the shower she obviously took. her blonde hair darker than usual, falling down her back. the smirk there is vile, begging you to look further than her blue eyes.

with the way abby is looking at you, there’s no fucking way she doesn’t want it. clearly, she’s more patient than most, waiting for you to drop the eye contact.

“well?” abby lifts her left eyebrows, cocking her head to the side as she waits for you to react, crumble, cry. you’re not sure what exactly she’s looking for. the confidence radiating from her is irritating just as it is enticing.

when you shake your head silently, repeatedly too, the tall blonde takes a one step forward, the pad of her thumb places pressure on your chin, guiding your gaze where she wants. happily, you comply.

jesus fucking christ, you’d fully believe she was made just for you if someone told you.

the auburn towel is secured around hips loosely, her toned abdomen on full display, her small breasts sit beautifully, nipples hardened from the cool air. it’s not fair how fucking perfect she looks. there’s not a damn thing you want more than to wrap your lips around her pink nipples and suck.

“now, are you going to stop pretending you don’t want to fuck me, baby?” abby taunts, her voice light and airy but it shoots right to your core.

“i-i, abby, this is wrong we shouldn’t be doing this. you need to get dressed.” you try to great some distance but abby pulls you towards her as you enter the bathroom with her, left arm shutting the door as she locks it.

“mhm, you’ve been dating for what? two months? don’t be stupid baby, think with that pretty pussy of yours. know she wants me and you do too, babygirl.” abby grabs your hand placing it on her towel, looking at you through half-lidded eyes.

“you can take it off if you want. do you wanna see my pussy baby?”

shit.

your fingertip plays with the fibers, before you can process what you’re doing, it’s unraveling off her strong hips exposing more of her built physique for your greedy eyes. quads are flexing as you take her in, the muscle rippling as you feast on her.

you have never been so truly and royally fucked.

meticulously, she removes each piece of clothing you’re wearing as her lips attack your own. as if she’s been planning this moment since she laid eyes on you. she bends you over the sink, your pretty ass in the air for her and her fingers smooth over your delectable cunt, enjoying the inconsistent twitching your taut body provides.

“now, be a good girl for me and let me fuck my baby, yeah? ‘m gonna fuck you better than she ever would.”

reblogs are appreciated! ♡

DO NOT BUY TLOU, FUCK NEIL DRUCKMANN + EDUCATE YOURSELF + DAILY CLICK FOR PALESTINE + DONATE TO PALESTINE.

[often-daydreaming]

Run

It's been months since they started traveling together, wandering, running from everything. It wasn't hard to figure out who Danny was. He didn't keep secrets, easily revealing the mark of the old god that sent him here and Bart wasn't about to turn down a friend especially when it's been forever since either one of them has seen anyone friendly so they were stuck together.

Travel buddies. Best friends. Apocalypse pals. He'd come up with a new one every day if he could but after spending so long trying to find a way back to the past their time had finally ran out.

Because Phantom was here. He's here and Danny's too injured to fight anymore after taking a blow for him during their last fight, always trying to save him even when Bart feels like he doesn't deserve it half the time only now it's Bart's turn to save Danny so he takes off running. It's what he's always done. He's good at it. He's the best and only speedster left alive leaving him with power to burn, the Speed Force surging through him as he takes off with a barely conscious Danny in his arms.

Phantom wants him, hasn't stopped hunting Danny since the day he's set his eyes on him and for as fast as he is Phantom is somehow keeping up. He's always a step behind, never fast enough for a solo speedster so Bart forces himself to go faster. He keeps running. He circles the planet in an instant hiding Danny in the ruins of Coast City seconds before he sucker punches Phantom from behind and repeats the process over and over again never noticing the clockwork like mark Danny gave him slowly clicking to life, the gears inside the necklace starting to move and tick with every close call and near miss and it isn't long before he's off again with Danny in his arms and death close behind them enraged after all his taunting.

Phantom is beyond furious but he's legs are about to collapse. He's never gone this fast before and Bart doesn't know how long he can keep it up so he has to pick a place for their last stand and races into the heart of Gotham towards the downed Watchtower. There's still enough of it left over that they can pull something off if they're lucky and they have to be lucky cause there's no going back anymore. There's so much blood, too much but Danny's still trying to force himself to his feet, the remnants of Gotham surging towards his call when Phantom finally catches up to them and... And... A.....

Bart blinks blindly at the floor. Everything hurt. His head feels like he's gone ten rounds with Doomsday and as he slowly gets up he notices dozens of other heroes in similar positions across the cafeteria of the Watchtower, all of them mumbling about the end of the world, in pain from migraines or rattled after reliving the memories of their deaths but Bart's only focus in that moment was his memories of Danny.

The up above is just something I thought up while bored and maybe, kind of sick so enjoy I guess. Add to it or tell me it's stupid, I probably won't notice until I'm feeling better.

[faefictions]

Snow in Indiana

Eddie Munson x Reader

5.7k words

Eddie has spent the past decade thinking about the pen pal he lost touch with, but fate has a funny way of bringing people back together when they need it most

Warnings: family death (unedited bc it is 3am and I have been working on this for hours)

“Dear Eddie, 

Does it Snow in Indiana?” 

He had read the beginning of the note hundreds of times by now. He had memorized how each individual letter had been written and slightly smudged. He knew the entire contents of the letter by heart, but that never stopped him from coming back to it from time to time. 

“My grandma hasn’t told me much about Hawkins, just that it’s just like home. Except it’s on the other side of the country. Grandma likes the snow, so I hope you say yes.” 

Something about the innocent nature of your writing calmed him down when things got rough. He had received the note in the middle of August at the beginning of 6th grade. Your grandmother had just moved across the country, and she just so happened to be the Librarian at Eddie’s new middle school. She had told both of you that the other could use a friend, even if you were thousands of miles apart. She also insisted that being pen pals would improve both of your lackluster reading and writing skills. She meant well. 

“Can I tell you the truth? I didn’t want to write you a letter when grandma called and told me I should. My teachers say I’m not good at writing anyway. But Grandma also said maybe you and I could be friends. And I think I would like that.” 

Some of your words had been crossed out with pen, either from misspellings or second thoughts on phrasing. Eddie had stared at the paper for so long that he even knew what was underneath those scribbles. 

When the snow started coming down each winter, it was hard for him to not want to keep the letter on him at all times. The opening line of your first letter to him always floated into his head with the first snowflakes. 

He had written you back to assure you that it does snow in Indiana, that he too had troubles with pleasing his teachers with his school work, and of course, that he too would like to be friends. 

That was over 10 years ago now. He had never met you, never heard your voice, never learned what you looked like (besides the poorly drawn picture you had included for him one time) but you had been a part of him for his middle school years. 

The letters started slowing down in the 8th grade. You had told him you were nervous for high school, that you’d heard that kids were meaner there. The last letter he had sent you was in the summer before both of your freshman years. He hated that he couldn’t remember what he had said, what his last words to you were. All he knew was that he wished you luck for your first day. 

Then the letters stopped completely. After months of checking mailboxes impatiently, he got the hint and gave up. 

At the age of 24, he wishes he sent another letter. He wishes he got some closure on why you stopped writing. He had always wondered if it had been something he had said, or maybe you had just found new friends in high school and decided you didn’t need him anymore. 

He was embarrassed to admit that it was his first heartbreak. So he refused to admit it even happened to anyone he knew now. 

He tucked the old letter in his pocket as another patron entered the diner. He had picked up a second job as the night cook in hopes of saving up enough to to move out of the trailer with Wayne. It had been months of helping Wayne with bills now, and he was just barely starting to see the hard work pay off in his savings account. 

He peeked out the pass through window to get a glimpse of the first customer they’d had in the last hour and a half. The snow had been coming down hard, and it was preventing the already few people who would be coming in to the diner at this hour from showing up. He wasn’t surprised to see the young woman, somewhere around his age, follow the waitress quickly to the booth in the corner and sit down. He was, however, surprised to see no new car in the small lot outside. He hadn’t seen headlights arrive or depart to drop her off. The snow that has accumulated on her hair, even thought it has been covered with a hood, was making him think she had walked a distance to get here. If the counter hadn’t been blocking his view, he would have seen the bottom of her pants completely soaked through from the snow piled outside to confirm his suspicion. 

“Can you start on a stack of pancakes, Ed?”

He nodded at the waitress, Judy, who wasn’t usually one to whisper like she was now. She rushed off to the phone in the back office, which did nothing but pique the interest in Eddie’s under stimulated brain. 

Curiosity got the best of him, so he made his way out of the kitchen quickly, grabbed a mug from the counter and the full coffee pot, and made his way over the girl in the corner. 

You had been staring out the window, and Eddie recognized the look as he approached. You were doing your best to hold yourself together. He was used to this kind of customer at this time of night. People who really needed the company, who had nowhere else to go, often found their way here after midnight. But there was something different about you, and it wasn’t just that he had never seen you around town. No matter how hurt he could tell you were inside, you did your best to keep up a facade when you saw him approaching. 

“Coffee?” he offered, less poised than he had intended.

“Please,” you smiled up at him as he set down the mug and poured. He allowed himself to take you in, and that’s when he saw the snow still caked on to your sneakers, and the damp cloth stretching from the hem above your ankle nearly up to your knees. There was snow yet to melt from head to toe, and you were trying your best not to shake from the cold. 

“You walk here?” He tried to make light conversation as he chuckled, but you weren’t as chipper. 

“My car broke down about a mile up the road. Walking was my only option,” You tried to keep the smile on your face, but Eddie saw the look, almost like a shunned child. As if you were embarrassed by what you had done, preparing for the lecture or consequence coming your way. 

Before he could say anything, Judy returned from the back office. 

“Tow truck won’t be running ’til morning, darlin’. But I left a message telling them you’d call first thing,” Judy gave you a halfhearted smile, before turning to Eddie, “Where’s that stack I told you to start on?” 

“Right, sorry,” he quickly excused himself back to the kitchen, but did his best to listen for the conversation you were having on the other side of the room. 

“Where are you staying tonight? I can try to get you a ride there.” 

“My grandma’s house, well it used to be I guess. I think it’s just a few more miles into town, I’m not a hundred percent sure though, I’ve never been out here.” 

“Used to be your grandma’s house?”

“Yeah, she, uhm… passed away not long ago. Hard to own something six feet under,” you tried to joke, but failed to make either of you laugh, “Funeral service is next week, I came early to pack up her things. Guess I chose the wrong day to drive in though.” 

“I’d say. Well let me see what I can do, do you have the address?” 

“Yeah, it’s right…” you trailed off as you checked your pocket, slowly coming to realize that you had left the torn piece of paper with the address written on it on your passenger seat, right on top of the map you were struggling to follow in the heavy snow. “Guess I left it in the car.” 

Just as the realization was threatening to break you, Eddie came and set a fresh stack of 3 pancakes in front of you. 

“You eat up, it’s on the house. And let me know if you remember any of that address,” Judy smiled at you and walked into the back before you could refuse the free pancakes.

Eddie watched you for the next hour through the pass through window. No other customers came in, so he didn’t exactly have anything better to do. It was nearing 4 am, the end of Eddie’s shift. He had cleaned his station in the kitchen faster than he ever had and made his way out to your table to check on your before he left. 

“Any luck with that address?”

“Don’t think I’d remember it with a gun to my head. I might as well walk back and grab it.” 

“Not a chance. My shift is over in a few minutes. Why don’t I drive you back to your car, you can grab it, and I can get you there.”

“I couldn’t possibly-“

“No need to be polite. You’ve had a rough enough night, let’s just get you home.”

You didn’t correct his phrasing. This was the furthest you had ever been from home, and you were sure as hell feeling that in this strange diner with barely a concept of where you were. The snow falling outside only exacerbated your feeling of being out of place. 

Eddie rushed to the back to grab his belongings and wish Judy a good night, letting her know he was going to get you out of there, before he made his way back out to you. You had brought the hood of your sweatshirt back up, and were staring out at the snow silently. He approached cautiously and gently spoke, “Let’s get out of here,” before guiding you through the door. 

“I’m Eddie, by the way. Sorry I didn’t properly introduce myself earlier.” 

You paused at his name, but he was too busy trying to find his van through the wall of snow to notice. 

“I’m y/n, thanks again for helping. You and Judy are both angels.” 

He smiled at your name for a moment, but kicked the idea from his mind. 

Both of you thought of the letters you had sent all those years ago, unaware that the person climbing into the same car as you was in fact the person you were reminiscing on. 

Eddie shook the snow out of his hair like a wet dog before starting the van. 

“Left out of the lot?” 

“Yeah,” you smiled. 

“You know, I’ve helped fix up a few cars in my day. I could take a look under the hood for you when we get there if you’d like.”

“You’re already helping enough, thank you though.”

“I really don’t mind. Can’t hurt just to take a look.” 

The glance and smile he shot you made your stomach do flips. In the low light of the passing, sparse streetlights, he looked incredibly handsome. Your mind wandered back to what you thought your Eddie looked like back in middle school. You had sent him a drawing of yourself, mostly as a joke since your drawing skills as a 12 year old weren’t amazing, but you were also trying to send him the message that you desperately wanted to know him better. Of course, when your grandmother had insisted you become pen pals with a strange boy, you weren’t too happy about the idea, but as time went on, the sound of a friend sounded too nice. You hadn’t had many of them in elementary school, and it concerned your family. But as your friendship with Eddie grew with each letter, you found yourself hoping for something, anything, more. Now, as an adult, you blame your adolescent brain for the silly crush. But that didn’t stop you from thinking about him from time to time, still wondering what he might be doing in that moment, or if he is happy. But most of all, you wondered if he missed you as much as you missed him. 

“You doing alright over there?” he asked you over the quiet metal playing over the speakers. He was playing it at about 1% of the volume he usually listened at, in an attempt to not scare you off just yet. 

“Yeah, just a long night,” you smiled back at him. He nearly assured you that you could be real with him, that he could tell that something more was bothering you, but he worried that would be coming on too strong. And before he could find a way to say it without sounding creepy, you pointed out your car on the side of the road with a sigh. 

It had only been a couple hours since you had left it, but it was nearly buried in the snow. 

“That’s a little more difficult to check out,” He chuckled as he pulled to the side of the road, lighting up your car with his headlights. 

“It’s fine, I’ll just go grab the address and we can get going,” you tried not to sigh as you opened the passenger door. 

“Wait a second,” Eddie reached for your hand before you could make it out of the car, “I’m fine with taking a look, and I can grab the address too. No need for you to get cold again.” 

“I already walked a mile in the snow earlier, I don't think a minute out there will kill me.”

“All the more reason for you to stay in here if you ask me.”

“Fine, but skip looking under the hood. I can call the tow truck when I wake up, it should be fine until then. Even if you could fix it with nothing, I don’t think I should be driving any more today.”

“Long trip?”

“Since 8 am. I really just want to get to sleep.”

“Deal,” he smiled again before stretching his hand out to you, “Keys?”

You reluctantly let him have the keys to go grab the paper, but not before trying to assure him you were capable of grabbing it yourself. You watched him as he rushed as fast as he could through the near foot of snow, grabbed the address, and rushed back to the van. 

“You didn’t lock it,” you stated, nervous to not to sound nagging. 

“I know, do you have a bag or something I can grab for you?”

“Oh, yeah, I’m sorry.” 

“Don’t be, where is it?”

“It’s in the back seat on the passenger side. It’s a small black suitcase.”

“You got it, here, take this,” he handed you the torn paper with your grandmother’s previous address written on it in a handwriting that would have been familiar to him, had he glanced down at it. 

He ran back to grab your suitcase, and made sure to double check that the doors had locked after he shut them before he rushed back to the van. He threw your suitcase in the backseat before jumping back into the drivers seat. 

“I don’t know how you lasted a mile in that, I’m already freezing,” he complained, but his smile still refused to leave his face. 

“I’m sorry,” you tried yet again to apologize. 

“Don’t be,” he paused to look you in the eye to assure you that he wasn’t upset in the slightest, “Now let’s see that address. Hopefully I actually know where it is.”

You handed him the paper, and even in the low light, you couldn’t miss the way his face fell, even for a millisecond. He hadn’t seemed to stop smiling all night, but the second he saw the paper, it faltered for just a moment. 

“Everything ok?” 

He looked up at you, and you could tell he wanted to say something, but thought better of it. 

“Yeah, uhm, this is on the other side of town though. It’s a bit of a drive, is that ok?”

“I’d rather drive a little further than stay in my car tonight. So yeah, it’s fine,” you giggled, relieved that he didn’t seem angry or annoyed with you like you thought. 

But he had seen the handwriting. He would know it anywhere, yet he still wouldn’t let himself get caught up in the coincidences. You were just a girl with similar handwriting, and the same name. You weren’t his y/n. He could never be so lucky. 

“So, what brings you to town?” he asked after a moment of driving. 

“It isn’t the happiest story, and I don’t want to be a bummer.” 

“I’m nosey, and that does nothing to curb my interest,” he joked. He just needed to prod, he needed to know if he was being crazy. 

“My grandma passed… about a week ago now. Her funeral is next week, but someone needed to clean up her house for the service, and no one else wanted to make the drive out.” 

“Do you have any other family in the area to help out?”

“No, she only had 2 sons. My dad and my uncle, and they’re both back west. She moved here, like, 12 years ago now I think. Maybe 13.” 

Just another coincidence. He’s not this lucky. 

“I’m sorry for your loss.”

You looked at him out of the corner of your eyes. You hadn’t heard that yet. Just stressed adults complaining about how traveling in the winter was too much of a hassle. Hearing those words, from a near stranger no less, was enough to make you tear up. And Eddie could hear that in your voice when you thanked him, but he chose not to comment on it. 

“So,” you began after a moment of awkward silence, “How long have you lived in Hawkins?”

“My whole life.”

“Do you like it here?”

“Uh… It has its moments,” he tried his best to hide his discontent with the town. If it weren’t for his uncle, his band, and his small group of friends, he would have ran for the hills by now. He was too attached to them to run… and also lacking the funds to do so. 

“That good huh?” you laughed. 

“Hate to sound like an ass, but there are definitely plenty of cons that outweigh the pros for me half the time. But that’s not everyone’s experience.”

“Grandma seemed to like it, but she also liked it back home, and it’s no cake walk back there.” 

You almost spat the end of your sentence, and although it wasn’t spoken explicitly, Eddie understood. 

“Sorry, I don’t mean to keep bringing the conversation down. It’s just been a really long week.”

“I believe it,” He paused, “So how long are you going to be staying in town then?”

“I have no idea. Rumor is Grandma left me the house. And even if she did…. I’m sorry, I’ve been awake for almost 24 hours now, and driving for over 15 of them. I know you really don’t need to hear any of this.” 

You started to make your body as small as possible, hyper aware of how loudly you had been speaking, and how riled up you were getting. Your father would have hated to see it. But not Eddie. 

“No, keep going. Like I said, I’m nosey, and it sounds like you could use someone to talk to about this.” 

“You sure?”

“Yeah,” he agreed nonchalantly, unaware how much it meant to you. 

“My grandma and I were really close before she moved. She didn’t get along with either of her sons, but she was the world to me as a kid. And my dad put up no effort to even reach out to her in the past decade, but he expects all of her stuff to be left to him, and my uncle wants the same. But my mom told me that one of them had reason to believe that she left it all to me. I don’t even know where they heard it, and don’t get me wrong, I’m not ungrateful, I promise. I just don’t know what to do about the two grown men that she apparently left out of the will if that’s true, and how mad they’re going to be at me.” 

“They wouldn’t be mad at you.” 

“You don’t know my dad,” you scoffed. You knew damn well that the man wasn’t afraid of throwing a tantrum, especially if it came to money. And he wouldn’t care if you were the one getting hurt in the process. 

“What would they have to be mad at you for though? For your Grandma loving you enough to leave you something to start your life on? How is that your fault?”

“It doesn’t matter if it’s my fault, they just care that they get their share. If it’s left to me, I might as well just divvy it up before they say anything.”

“But that’s not what you want, is it?”

“I just don’t want to have any issue with them.” 

“I’m sorry, that’s not fair to you.” 

“You really need to stop being so nice, you’re going to make me cry,” you chuckled, genuinely fighting back the tears as you spoke. 

“Sorry,” he chuckled back. He took a subject before continuing. “Have you seen the house? Like have you ever visited?”

“No, actually. Who knows, maybe it’s a real fixer upper and I’d be better off passing it on to my uncle,” you giggled, and that put the smile back on Eddie’s face. 

“If I didn’t mess up the address, it should just be in this next neighborhood.”

You kept saying that all you wanted was to get some rest after your long day, but now that you were talking to Eddie, you didn’t want the drive to end. The disappointment hit you like a rock as he pulled into the driveway of your grandmothers old house, but the feeling quickly turned to something else as you looked out the window to see the beautiful 2 story house with large trees on either side. 

“So much for the fixer upper theory,” Eddie said with a whistle, but you were speechless. This was much more than you had been anticipating, much nicer than you had spent your younger years picturing every time you missed your grandma. 

“You ok?” he asked after a moment of silence. 

“Oh, yeah. Sorry, I was just taking it in,” you chuckled nervously, still staring at the house. 

“Why don’t we get you inside?” He said, reaching in the back for your suitcase. You put a hand gently on his arm to stop him, and he looked up to see your nearly empty stare, still on the building in front of you. 

“Can you give me just a minute? I’m sorry, I know it’s late.” 

“No, it’s fine… Are you ok?”

“Yeah…Yeah, It just,” you trailed off for a moment, “I hadn’t seen her in years. Had no idea what her house looked like, or what she looked like anymore. I got letters, I got calls, but… Part of all this didn’t feel as real. Going in there, that’s real.” 

“Want me to come in with you?”

“No, that’s fine. I just need a second.” 

“Have you ever lost anyone before?”

You didn’t answer, just shook your head as you moved your eyes from the house to him. 

“Let me walk you in. You shouldn’t be alone for that.” 

You looked back at the house for a moment, took a deep breath, and nodded your head. 

Eddie carried your suitcase through the front door, and you both kicked off your shoes before stepping on the carpet. You took a deep breath before reaching for the light switch. Eddie sensed your hesitation as your fingers hovered. He took the opportunity to grab the fingers of your other hand. It gave you enough courage to turn on the light in the entry way. 

The furniture was mostly unfamiliar. You could see a few pieces in the living room that you had remembered from your childhood, and the sense of nostalgia calmed you. Eddie let you walk ahead of him, letting go of your hand as you ventured further into the room. Slowly but surely, you made your way to a wall on the other side of the room. It was covered in pictures, new and old, of your grandma with family and friends. You recognized yourself in plenty of them, but the newer ones were the ones that you couldn’t stop looking at. She looked so much older that you had remembered, but still had the youthful glow to her that you had attributed to her mischievousness. No matter how old she got, how wrinkled her face grew, or how gray her had and gotten, you still recognized her. Part of your heart began to ache for not knowing her as she was before she passed. It had been so long. 

You felt Eddie approach you from behind, and you expect him to say something nice, or encouraging. But he didn’t. He was surprisingly quiet. You turned to make sure he was alright, but he didn’t seem fine. He was staring at one of the photos on the wall, and he looked like he was about to be sick.

“Are you ok, you look like you’ve seen a ghost.”

“Uh, yeah,” he replied, still white as a sheet as he tore his eyes from the photo to look at you. He barely shot you a half smile before looking back up at the pictures. You took a step back to stand next to him. 

“I just remembered that she worked at the middle school when she moved here. Did you know her?”

“Yeah.”

“…Did you like her?” you tried asking after waiting for him to say anything more. 

“Yeah, she introduced me to my best friend.”

“Me too,” you smiled at the memory of your old pen pal. 

“Someone back home?”

“No, actually. I probably shouldn’t refer to him as that still. We haven’t spoken in… years actually.”

“I’m sorry to hear that,” he said, finally peeling his eyes away from the photos on the wall. 

He should have said more, but he didn’t know what else to say. This was her. He was in shock. The girl he had spent the last decade wondering about had wandered into his diner. His thoughts were moving a mile a minute, he felt like he could physically hear them, and it was hard to focus on anything you had possibly said. But luckily, you weren’t saying much. 

He followed you like a ghost as you explored the first floor of the house. You were happy you had arrived before anyone else. You had the chance to see the house how she had left it, how she had lived in it. It gave you a sense of closure you weren’t going to get otherwise, it felt as if you were getting a sense of knowing her once again. You were caught up in it until you saw a clock on the wall, reading nearly 5 am. Realization hit you that you were keeping Eddie, and a sense of guilt washed over you. You turned to find him, with a bit of color returned to his face. 

“It’s really late, I’m sorry I’ve kept you. You can go home if you’d like. I’m sure you want to get some rest too after your shift.” 

He took a second, before asking, “Are you sure you’ll be alright?” And you hesitated before nodding. 

“Honestly, the roads are pretty bad out there. I could stay on the couch, help you figure out your car in the morning. How does that sound?”

He way have been a complete stranger just hours ago, but you really did feel like you could trust him. So you smiled and nodded. 

“I’ll go find some blankets for you,” you smiled before disappearing up the stairs. Eddie didn’t expect you to come back for a while. You were bound to find your grandmothers bedroom and need to look around for a while. He made his way back to the living room while he waited. He stared at the wall again, but not in shock this time. Now that he knew was 24 year old you looked like, he desperately want to see what 12 year old you looked like. He found a picture near the middle of the wall, of a young girl smiling at the camera. It was the only photo on the wall without your grandmother in it. She had your eyes, had your smile, but most importantly, she actually looked like the drawing he had received all those years ago. You weren’t as bad of an artist as you’d thought. Eddie tried not to grow emotional staring at the photo. He only tore his eyes away from the picture of younger you when he heard you making your way back down the stairs.

Before you could reach Eddie, you paused by the window next to the back door, blankets in hand. The snow coated the back yard, reflecting the light from the back porch into the sky. You began to tear up, just as Eddie approached to take the blankets from you. He saw one of the first tears fall down your cheek, and quickly, but gently put an arm around you. 

“Hey, what’s wrong?”

“Nothing, just… Is this what it looks like every winter?” you asked, looking up at him with misty eyes. 

“For parts of it, yeah. Why?”

“Grandma loved the snow,” was all you could reply before looking back out at the yard. 

He contemplated it for a second, fought himself on whether or not this was the right moment to say it, but he couldn’t help himself. 

“I told you she’d like it here” 

A moment passed as you processed what he had said. You gasped quietly, quickly turning your head to face him. He looked nervous, as if he had just handed his heart to you on a platter, waiting to see if you would reject it. 

“Eddie?” you asked cautiously, and you both knew what the question really was. 

“Yeah,” he nodded, still nervous and unable to read what you were thinking. 

“You stopped writing,” was all you could get out before another tear dropped. 

“What?”

“Y-you stopped writing,” you repeated, beginning to choke on your breathes as you spoke. 

He nearly panicked as he tried to reply. 

“Y/n, w-what do you mean? I only stopped writing when you stopped replying.”

“Oh my god, it’s really you,” you couldn’t stop looking at him, another tear dropping down your cheek. Your exhaustion was exaggerating your emotions, but you may have felt the same regardless. You had waited 12 years for this moment. 

“Yeah. Why don’t we go sit down,” he smiled at you, before herding you towards the couch. 

“Y/n,” he spoke softly as he crouch in front of you, one hand resting on each of your knees as you sat on the couch, “What do you mean I stopped writing?”

“I sent you a letter, you never replied.”

“That’s impossible, I waiting for months to hear back from you. There’s no way I missed a letter from you.”

“No, I sent one, and I waited, but you never replied. You broke my heart Eds,” you quietly began to sob, filled with too many mixed emotions. 

Eddie quickly sat next to you on the couch and pulled you to his chest to comfort you the best he could, but he was still confused. He had checked his own mailbox, his neighbors mailboxes, other houses in town with the same street number as his trailer. This didn’t add up. He quietly shushed you as he thought. 

“What did the last letter say?” he asked as you began to calm down just slightly. He had half the collection of your letters memorized, but especially the first and last. He would know if he had read it if you described it. 

“It was before Freshman year, I told you how scared I was that all the kids were going to be mean. I was so afraid that I was going to get singled out for still having no friends, and I waited for months to hear back from you. But you never wrote back. You were my only friend, and you stopped writing.”

“No, sweetheart, I would never,” he sighed as his heart dropped. He got that letter, he replied to it. Which meant that she never got his last letter. Neither of them had stopped writing on purpose, they had both assumed the other had given up. But he had sent out one last letter that was unaccounted for.

“Sweetheart, can you look at me,” he gently guided you to look up at him, “I promise you, I wrote back. I don’t know what happened to it, but I never would have stopped writing like that. I thought you had just ignored my last letter.”

“You wrote,” you said quietly, and Eddie couldn’t tell if it was a question, or if you were trying to reassure yourself. 

“I did, I promise,” he whispered as he swept a tear off your cheek with his thumb. 

And though you still needed to know what happened to his letter, and you had had one of the longest days of your life, nothing mattered more to you in that moment than leaning in, slowly. You took a second, pausing right before reaching his lips so he could pull away if he wanted, but he didn’t. It was a quick kiss, but it was gentle and sweet. Eddie didn’t try to pull you in for another, but he didn’t want to part as you pulled away. 

It took him a second to open his eyes again, but when he did, he was smiling just as big as you. 

“You ok?” he asked for what must have been the hundredth time that night. But unlike every other time you had answered, this time you told him the truth. 

“I am now.”

(may or may not be already trying to figure out a part 2 for this, depending on if people like it <3 )

@embrace-themagic @fanficparker  @heartbeats-wildly @saturn-aka-six @calum-hoodwinked-me @peterplanet @mischiefmanaged49 @nicotine-sunshine820 @itsjusttor @emistrash @thenoddingbunny-blog @sovereignparker @raajali3 @eddielives1986 @eddieswifu @chickpeadumpsterfire @fluffybunnyu @panagiasikelia @canthavetoomuchchaos @whenshelanded @starlitlakes @witchwolflea @ali-r3n @g0thdraculaura @celestcies

[haroldthehuckleberry]

Step-Son MPreg

CW- mpreg, sex, language, Step-Son X Step-Dad storyline

I always fancied my step-dad since i met him i thought he was hot, hes a classic himbo, hes tall, muscly, blonde and stupid as can be.

I never knew if he was purposefully flirting with me of was just too stupid to understand it was wrong, but it being wrong made me so horny, id often wank off after he’d compare our hand sizes, snuggle up to me or even bend over to empty the dishwasher, anything and everything he did turned me on so hard! he always wore clothes that left nothing to the imagination, short-shorts, crop-tops or no tops! My actual dad loved this about him and it made me so jealous seeing them cuddle and kiss and then one day… my dad went on a business trip. it was now or never.

i came downstairs in my dressing-gown and boxers showing off my abs and mediocre pecs i walked into the living room to my step-dad half asleep on the couch only in his briefs and white running socks, sweating and scratching his perfect body when he saw me he woke up a little and pushed a finger into his underwear suggestively “oh… hey man” he said in a gruff half awake voice “h-hey” i stammered taken aback by how horny he already seemed my cock visibly swelled in my already tight boxers. he glanced down to it quickly and blushed “come here pal i have something to show you” he said gesturing for me to walk over- i follow his orders and sit next to him, he places his hand on the back of my head and pulls me in for a deep long kiss. i rest my hand on his groin and feel his cock twitch and harden through his pants i then slowly kiss his neck, then his chest, then his abs until his beautiful totem-pole of a cock is in-front of my face. i confidently slip it all into my throat in one go and he lets out a little moan.

i suck him off for what feels like an hour before he pulls me up by my armpits and spins me around, he lifts my dressing gown up and squeezes my ass before bending me over the couch as he teases my underwear down making my cock twitch due to the prolonged friction, he then rubs the head of his penis along the outside of my un-used hole while i beg for his cock i then moan loudly as he slides it all in at once. he grabs the hair on the back of my head and holds my cock in the other one of his massive veiny hands his expert technique instantly turns me into a worthless hole only purpose is to please him, after a few hours of fucking and cumming we fall asleep on the couch naked together.

after a few more days of constant fucking, sucking and cumming my real dad comes home and we have to start being discrete, doing it in one of our cars or while hes away or even just quietly under the kitchen table, the closer he is, the hotter we find it.

after months of this i notice a small ball in the centre of my stomach while getting dressed i think nothing of it and carry on and on until its too obvious to hide under baggy clothes, i tell people im just bulking cause i want to build mass, i wanted to believe it but me and my step dad knew it was more.

his cum must be super-human i quickly became the biggest pregnant person id ever seen i stuck to my story but less and less people believed it that was when my dad confronted me “hey buddy!” he said putting his head around my door into my room as i lay weighted down by my planet-belly, “ive noticed that your clearly pregnant” i try to sit up and defend myself but it takes me far to long to even start bending my mid-section “you dont need to deny it i know what it looks like-you where one hell of a baby! anyway i was just wondering who the daddy was and if hes in the picture” i knew he was asking because my other dad was never in the picture “well erm he kind of is” i finally admit rubbing my tight taught skin “its m-my step dad” i say defeated. “no fucking way!” my dad says more surprised than angry he finally steps fully in my room without a shirt on revealing his own pretty-large pregnant belly…

[imtryingbuck]

Unchained Melody

~ gif not mine credit to owner ~

Pairing: Bucky Barnes x fem!Reader

Summary: yns a ghost and Bucky falls in love

Word count: 5,257

Warnings: in this the blip never happened why? because I said so. swearing. ghost reader. death by fire. tiny mention of cheating, not reader or bucky. tiny mention of drugs, not reader or bucky. tiny mention of domestic abuse and child abuse. Me just making shit up, enjoy.

A/N: posting this in celebration of hitting 1k followers, I love you all🤍

Masterlist

You first saw him three years ago, shiny silver arm with a red star on the bicep shoulder length wavy hair - that you knew just had to be soft - you had watched as the team greeted him with smiles and his response? To look at them like they had just kicked his puppy. Walking at the side of Steve as you both showed him to his room, it was basic and dull not like the others your favourite belonging to Wanda, you was telling him all the things he could do with it - picking out a colour theme, that if he moved the desk over to the sid-

“I like it”

You looked at him like he had three heads on his shoulders. The room was bare and empty how could he have liked it?

As the days turned to weeks you stayed close to him, at first you told yourself it was just to help him settle in but the more times you spent with the man you grew a teeny tiny connection with him, even if he did ignore you all the time.

“So Bucky I was thinking maybe we could go to the gym and then get someth-hey where are you going? Rude.”

In a very non creepy way you liked to watch him sleep, his frown lines faded, the little twitches in his nose always made you smile, his soft snores filling your senses. Again it was done in a very non creepy way! But watching Bucky sleep brought you peace knowing he was oka-

“Bucky Bucky it’s just a nightmare it’s okay, shit, Steve! Goddamn Bucky please wake up! Steve Sam anyone!” You screamed in absolute panic the first time he had a nightmare.

“It’s okay Buck it’s just a bad dream”

“Yeah no shit Steve I’ve been shouting you for the last five minutes-hey don’t walk away from me when I’m talking to yo-you know Bucky I absolutely hate it when people shut doors on me when I’m talki-oh you’re asleep, oh okay night night I guess”

Over time the nightmares faded, he became more comfortable around everyone. Happier even.

The first time you saw him naked you couldn’t take your eyes off of him. You had walked into his bedroom - he was fresh out of the shower his hair dropping little droplets onto his broad soft back, he took his towel away from his hips in one swift motion causing your brain to fry up.

“I’m huh sor-Jesus Bucky you’re hu-shit I shouldn’t be seeing this, sor-I’m gonna go”

Leaving once again but not before taking one more cheeky look.

That went on for six months until one day you went to his room to check up on him noticing he wasn’t there you went to the gym, not there. Kitchen, not there. Briefing room, not there. You saw Tony walking past so you asked him but he didn’t tell you. You asked Sam, no reply. You asked Nat but she just carried on texting on her phone. So you went to find Steve but just like with Bucky you was coming up empty.

“He’s probably ventured outside finally” you told yourself as you waited for him in his room.

And you kept on waiting, and waiting and waiting.

It had been two and a half years since you last saw him. Nobody around you even talked about him despite you always asking them where he had gone or if he was okay.

It was like he was never there in the first place.

Steve ran past you as you was taking your daily stroll through the corridors, normally you would have followed him but since you had fell out with him you continued you stroll.

You did your first lap and were walking back towards the kitchen when you heard a familiar voice.

“-I’m okay, they got rid of my trigger words”

“I’m glad pal, you seem a lot happier. How was Wakanda?”

“It was good had my own little hut and had some goats” he chuckles, Steve joining in.

You did have to agree with Steve, Bucky looked happier. Healthier.

“Bucky” you whispered. 

Bucky’s eyes flicked away from Steve to over to where you were standing.

The two of you stare at each other, you not daring to move and him just looking at you that was until Steve broke the spell between you two.

“Buck? You alright?”

“I-um yeah” his eyes go to Steve and then back to the woman who was standing there. His eyebrows burrow in confusion as she wasn’t there anymore. “Hey Steve is there another person now a part of the team?”

“No why?”

“So who was that woman then?”

“What woman?” Steve asks as he turns around to look what Bucky was staring at.

Bucky then describes you and waits for Steve to answer.

“Buck there’s no one here fitting that description…” 

“Oh.”

“Are you alright pal?”

“Yeah, no I’m fine” He forces a smile.

For the first time in 15 years someone’s finally seen and heard you, going through all these years with no communication with anyone or having someone look at you and not through you had gotten easier as time went on. The first two years were extremely difficult and painful. You couldn’t understand why the construction crew was ignoring you and not listening to your pleading.

A year into the development of the huge building that was Stark Tower and now better known as Avengers Tower the building came to a halt when one of the workers screamed ‘we’ve found a body’, like everyone else you ran over to investigate. The burnt skeleton remains were taken away and two weeks later you heard the crew talking about the body-

“Apparently her name was Y/n L/n, died in the fire last year” Bobby the foreman said.

You laughed “that’s wrong because I’m right here guys” waving your hands around.

But nobody batted an eye or flinched when you jumped in front of them.

That’s when it dawned on you that you were dead.

You remember the day that you got your memories back from your death and it was all thanks to the bad guys who had attacked the tower.

*5 years ago*

The alarms were going off, bright red lights flashing, people were screaming and you was trying to calm them down. Helping Bruce and Nat lead people to safety, away from the destruction. The three of you and those that you was rescuing go down the stairs and Nat opened the door to the ground floor before she slammed it shut again.

“Nat we need to go” Bruce says with panic.

“We-we can’t go that way” she explains.

You knew why, you saw it as she opened the door.

The burning flames were pounding on the door that was stopping it from getting to any of you.

“Bruce we’ve got to go back up!”

Nobody batted an eye as you stumbled back and slid down the wall. Nobody batted an eye as you pulled on your hair muttering something that even you didn’t know under your breath.

They left you behind as you was transported back to 10 years prior.

*10 years before that*

You was sitting in your apartment, knees to your chest, trying to concentrate on what the couple on the screen was saying.

The raised voices coming from your fathers room we’re getting louder and louder as he argued with his girlfriend Lyra, her accusing him of cheating on her which made you laugh since you caught her having sex in the laundry room with the drug dealer that lived two floors up. Since she had no money for his supplies she had to pay in other ways.

Flinching when you heard the sound of skin hitting skin and closing your eyes tightly when you heard Lyra scream out. Your father always had a temper especially when he was drinking and since he had been laid off from the factory, drinking was all he did. A small vile part of you was happy that Lyra was around as it meant he no longer hit you, the abuse you suffered from the hands of your father started a week after your mother left him for another man, leaving you behind. 

Lyra came running out of the bedroom with tears streaming down her cheeks as the welt was already forming, your father soon following holding two lit candles in his hands he threw the first one and the next.

The next thing you knew was that the apartment you had grown up in was in flames. You was rooted in fear at not only the fire but as Lyra screaming at you to leave despite her being attacked by your father.

The fire had spread quickly throughout the apartment complex, screams and chaos all around you. You kept going down the stairs until you found yourself in the basement, with no idea of why you was down there, you tried to turn back but the flames pushed you further and further into the normally cold room.

*back to the present*

It scared you that now after 15 years you’ve been a ghost for that someone can now finally see you, it made you smile that it was Bucky that could but the question of why? Why now played on your mind.

Not even the medium who Tony brought in after heard “ghostly noises” couldn’t see or hear you, the “ghostly noises” that Tony heard was just Natasha and Bruce having sex in his lab, you promised the pair you wouldn’t say anything so you didn’t.

So you did the most rational thing. Avoided him.

Which lasted for two weeks until Bucky came onto your territory.

Minding your own business your eyes squinting at the sound of the door opening, hearing Steve’s voice you didn’t think anything of it.

“I’m telling you Buck this is the best place to hide presents, no one ever comes down here” it was true, the last time someone came down here was two agents who was trying to have sex and you wasn’t going to have that. People coming into your home and trying to do the nasty, absolutely not! So you started messing with the pipes and banging objects, causing them to stop and the woman getting scared, she ended up running away leaving the man who started calling her nasty names. He became your enemy. Not like you could actually do anything to him but the statement still stood. 

“If you say so punk”.

“I do say so.”

“Here grab these so I can get the rest”

With Steve leaving it was just you and Bucky in the basement now.

“Oh, hi I didn’t see you there” Bucky says.

“Yo-you can actually see me?”

“Yes…why aren’t I suppose to?”

“No”

“Why?”

“Because I’m a ghost”

Both of his eyebrows shoot up and he starts laughing “of course you are”

“No I actually am.”

“Yeah yeah, is this a prank that the spider kid has put you up to?”

“His name is Peter and no it’s not a pra-“

“Hey Buck who are you talking to?” Steve asks as he comes back in with more gift bags.

“Her” Bucky points over to where you stand.

“Bucky there’s no one there…”

“See I told you!” You say with your arms crossed.

“B-but”

“Look he can’t see me, even if I do this” You moved away from the wall and jumped in front of Steve who of course looks straight through you. “You’re the only one for some reason”.

Bucky pales, “but how?”

“Buck?”

“I-I need to go”

Both you and Steve watch him run up the steps and away from you.

“You know Steve, I didn’t expect him to have that kind of reac-oh yeah no its fine to leave it wasn’t like I was finished talking.”

For three weeks you kept you kept yourself isolated in the basement not knowing what it meant now that someone could see and hear you even if it was just Bucky.

Over the past 12 or 13 years you kept yourself to a routine but since Bucky had ruined that for you, you kept yourself occupied - okay you was going slightly insane.

Not realising that the door had come open you was completely unaware that Bucky was standing there watching you-

“Okay so the first order of business is that we need to take out the bad men who call themselves “The trash” in order to succeed we need strong men and women who will lay down their lif-“

You’re cut off by a laugh; you turn and see Bucky who winces at your screams.

“Sorry, sorry I didn’t mean to scare you”

“W-what are you doing here?”

“Were you talking to the mops and buckets?” He asks ignoring your question.

“That’s completely unrelated. What are you doing here?”

“You was weren’t you, hey don’t stop on my account you’ve got to finish your speech or they’ll leave”

“Yo-you’re making fun of me. Stop it” you mumble

“No I’m not, I’m just saying carry on with talking to the mops-oh is that a broom?”

“L-leave now please”

“Aw come on I’m only joking”

“I don’t find it funny, now leave”

He watches as you turn your back to him as you bring your hand up to your face, suddenly feeling guilty.

“Hey doll I’m sorry, I-I was trying to joke with you but it wasn’t funny I’m sorry”

“Whatever just leave”

Bucky listens and complies but as he reaches the top step he turns round and walks back down to you.

“D-doll I really am sorry. I just wanted to talk to you, I’ve been looking around for you and I figured I’d find you here”

“Y-you’ve been looking for me? Why?”

“Well I wanted to ask you some questions” he rubs the back of his neck with his left hand.

“Your arm…”

“Huh? Oh yeah it was a gift from Shuri, do you like it?”

“It’s very pretty” you say with a slight blush.

“Thank you” he too blushes.

“You said you had some questions?”

“Yeah, is it okay if I sit?” Pointing to an old couch that Tony had brought down many years ago.

“Of course”

Watching him sit on the dusty old thing brought a slight smile to your face.

“Are you going to sit?”

“Yep” taking the seat on the end and on the edge.

“So, you’re a ghost?”

“Yep”

“So, you’re dead?”

“Yep”

“When?”

“15 years ago”

“How?”

“Fire”

“Where?”

“Here”

“What?”

“My apartment complex was here before the tower was”

“Oh”

“Yep”

A semi uncomfortable silence fell between you two. He shifted and rubbed his hands on his thighs whilst you twiddled your thumbs.

Bucky broke the silence “how long have you been around us all?”

“Since more and more people came to the tower”

“Oh.”

“Yep”

Silence fell once again but this time lasted a good 20 minutes. 20 slow and painful minutes.

“H-how come you’re not in like heaven or hell?”

“I’m not sure.”

“Isn’t there any other ghosts you could ask?”

“There’s been a few over the years but none of them ever had any answers for me”

“May-maybe you need to do something or have something done to move you on?” Bucky shrugs.

“Like what?”

“I’m not sure. How did the fire start do you know?”

“My father” when he gave you a questioning yet shocked look you explained everything that you remembered that day.

“I’m so sorry ghosty”

“Ghosty?” You burst out laughing. 

“Yeah well I don’t know your name so…ghosty”

“Y/n”

Watching as his lips form your name sent imaginary chills down your spine.

“Y/n, I like it, did your dad go prison?”

“No why?”

“Maybe that’s why you’re still stuck here. I can help y-“

“But I don’t want to move on.” Cutting him off.

“Why?”

“Because then that means I’ll be dead”

“But doll, you are”

Standing up so you can pace around the small area “I know that but if I move on it will mean I’m dead dead you know?”

“But why? You’ve spent that past 15 years with no one seeing or hearing you. You really want to do another 15?”

“And another 15 after that if it means I get to be around people and I don’t have to be alone, I don’t want to be just gone and Bucky I’m not hurting anyone I swear!” You shouted at him, your last words more quieter, more like a whimper.

Finally admitting it to someone else hurt, admitting that you would rather keep being ignored and never seen by anyone ever again was better than being alone and dead. And yes whilst you was technically alone it wasn’t the same, you got to be around people, listened to their jokes or stories, listened to their complaints or worries. You was happy to continue to be a shoulder for them to cry on even if they didn’t know you was there or couldn’t hear you words of encouragement and advice.

And it was true what you had said to him, you wasn’t hurting anyone. You couldn’t even imagine of causing another person any form of pain, even when you was alive.

“Dol-no Y/n come back!”

Bucky was angry with himself. The first time he got to speak to her properly, he ruined it. The pain in her voice when she told him she didn’t want to be alone tugged on his heart.

He went to the basement at least eight times a day to apologise but she was never there. He knew that if anyone was walking down the corridor leading to the basement they’d be able to hear him talking to himself.

He walked with purpose down the corridor to Sam’s room, knocking on the door he grew impatient at how long it was taking Sam to answer, it had only been 5 seconds.

“What’s up Buck?”

“One I told you not to call me that. Two I need the computer thing”

“It’s called a laptop Buck”

“Don’t call me that. And can I have it”

“Sure you can Buck let me go and grab it for you Buck”

“I’m going to kill you in a minute”

“Of course you are Buck, here” Sam laughs giving him the laptop before shutting the door in his face.

Going back into his bedroom he goes on the internet just like Peter had showed him, he first typed in ‘Stark Tower fire’ coming up with all different things. Then he typed in ‘before Stark Tower fire’ which had only confused him more. Trying one more time he typed ‘Stark Tower apartment fire’ bingo!

Clicking on the first link showed him the apartment before the fire, during and after. He learned that the complex housed lower income families, that the fire was deemed as an accident due to faulty electrical systems.

Scrolling down further he stopped. The photo of you that he assumed was from school was there, the girl in the photo smiling back to him and next to it read ‘Y/n L/n died in apartment fire one week away from her 21st birthday. Her body has yet to be found’ and just a little bit further down was another link that read ‘Y/n L/n was found 1 year after the tragedy of the fire’ clicking on it he read more, how the construction crew had found her and how scientists confirmed that it was the body of Y/n’s. A photo was underneath the headline that showed the crew, Bucky had to do a double take when he saw you. Sitting on the floor looking out of frame with what Bucky thought was tears on your face.

Taking the laptop with him he ran to Steve’s room, rapidly knocking until the blonde answered.

“Buck? What’s wrong?” Steve says whilst rubbing the sleep from his eyes.

Walking straight past his friend he goes to sit on the bed “come here and look”

Listening Steve sits next to him “when was this?”

“14 years ago but look, there’s that girl I described to you” pointing and looking up at Steve who scrunched up his eyebrows.

“Buck I can’t see anything…”

“Pretty girl on the ground looks like she’s crying”

“Bucky are you alright? You’ve not been the same since you came back from Wakanda. I can ask King T’Challa if you can go ba-“

“Steve listen okay this girl she’s dead. She died 15 years ago and I can see her, I’m the only one that can and I don’t know why bu-but I never saw her before until I came back-“

“Buck slow dow-“

“-but I ruined it between us and now I can’t see her anywhere I keep looking I do Stevie but she won’t appear no matter how much I beg her too an-and I think she hates me”

“Bucky please slow down! Tell me everything but slowly”

So he does.

Steve sits there dumbfounded by what his best friend is telling him, and the craziest part of it was is that he believes every word coming out of his mouth.

“Okay, let’s try and think of a plan together”

And they do.

The next day Bucky makes his way back to the basement when he hears your voice softly seeping underneath the door his heart skips.

“-I’m not sure” silence “maybe I should let him help me so I can move on” more silence “I’m just scared though”

“Y/n?”

“Bucky?”

“Hi um who are you talking to?”

“Just myself, so I came to a conclusion that I want you to help me move on. I’m ready and it’s time”

Bucky notices that there’s a slight hesitation in your words and he spots the way you gulp at the end of your sentence. “Well I have a better idea, I did a lot of research last night and I found out that you don’t have a headstone so I tho-“

“I don’t have a headstone?” You whisper.

It’s now his turn to gulp “No doll, it’s an unmarked grave but I know exactly where it is, where you are” He rephrases.

“Why? Why don’t I have one?”

Oh he hates it. He hates how small you sound; he doesn’t like how you’re twisting your fingers together. “I-I’m not sure doll” That was a lie.

Neither of your parents wanted to spend money on a funeral or a proper burial for you, so it was up to the county to do it.

“Is-is that why am not dead-dead?”

“I’m not sure, it might be… but listen I’m going to get you a headstone - a real nice one, and if-if you want you’ll always be able to go there and Y/n please don’t think I want you to leave because I don’t okay, I really don’t I just want you to find peace”

“I-you don’t have to do that Bucky, it’s a lot of money and I’m not worth a single penny”

Now his heart cracks. “Don’t say that, you’re worth it don’t worry” he smiles which doesn’t reach his eyes.

“It’s okay honestly I think there’s more of an easier, less expensive way to get rid of me. All we have to do is think”

“Y/n-“

“Come on we need to think”

“Doll there’s no need to think about anything, I’ve already gone through with my plan.”

“What?”

“The headstones being made as we speak and Steve’s getting everyone on board.”

The way your eyes bulge out would have made him laugh but he wills himself not to.

“Wh-what’s going on?”

“Sit and I’ll tell you” he smiles as both of you sit on the couch. 

On the other side of the compound the rest of the team sit with amusement written over their faces as Steve tell them about Bucky and his ghost friend.

“You two have lost the plot” Sam laughs.

“Would you two be able to be put into an old people’s home?” Nat wonders out loud.

“Probably as they’re both over 100” Tony retorts to Nat.

“Guys I’m being serious” Steve says with his hands on his hips.

“Wait when did you say the fire was?” Tony asks him.

“15 years ago”

“I remember that, there was only one person that died - many were injured weren’t there?”

“Yeah. Y/n was the unfortunate one”

“And she’s been here ever since?”

“Yes”

“So she knows us?”

“Yes. Look let me ring Bucky and get him to bring her up here and we’ll ask questions that no one else would know apart from her and see if she was around at that time”

The team nods so that’s exactly what he does.

“Doll we’re needed upstairs, the team don’t exactly believe me or Steve so they’re going to ask questions and see if you was there or not, is that okay with you?”

“Okay”

The both of you head upstairs and for some reason you’re nervous, something that you’ve never been when around any of them.

“So Barnes, Rogers here tells us that you can see ghosts?” Tony starts.

“Ghost. Just one” he answers. “Okay ask your questions”

“Where exactly are we looking?” Sam now asks.

Bucky gestures to where you stand and obviously all they see is nothing.

“Okay, I’ll play along. Little ghost was you there when I created my iron man suit?”

“She said no”

“Was it you who made ghostly noises?”

Bucky struggles not to laugh “she said no”

“Wait why are you laughing?”

“Because she told me who it was and umm Tony they weren’t ghostly noises”

“What were they then?”

“Sounds of pleasure” Bucky says as he winks at Bruce.

The team start laughing at Bruce’s bright red cheeks and when they notice Nat sinking further into her chair their laughs becomes louder.

“Okay okay I want to ask the ghost something next” Sam laughs.

“Her name is Y/n”

“Okay Y/n what’s my nightly routine?”

“I’m not saying that!” - “No Y/n” - “please don’t make me say it!” - “godsake fine! Sam your nightly routine is you have a shower, brush your teeth, you do 50 push ups whilst na-naked and then -I think I’m going to be sick- you wank off before going to sleep”

“Ah yes! I believe them, Hi Y/n”

“She says hi”

The questions continued for well over an hour, the team finally believing that she was-

“Holy fucking shit!” Tony shouts.

“What? Oh”

“Fuck”

Bucky looked at Y/n who was staring at him with a confused expression which he just shrugs his shoulders. “What’s going on?”

“I’m not sure, guys what’s up?”

“W-we can fucking see her!” Sam shouts.

“What?”

“We can see her Barnes!”

It was true. They could all see you.

“H-how?” You stumble out, after all these years of being invisible and being unheard from everyone around you and all its took is for everyone to believe that you actually exist.

“I-we don’t know. This is crazy even for me” Tony says.

“You can hear me?”

“Yes sweetheart”

Months went by, you was now able to leave the compound by visiting the cemetery. You was there alongside the Avengers when your headstone was placed, each member placed a rose on the grave all giving you a small smile.

It took you some time to get use to being seen and heard, no more conversations with yourself as someone was always around to answer.

Yours and Bucky’s friendship grew, it would be a lie if you said you didn’t have a crush on him. And unknown to you he had a crush on you too. It hurt both of you because you knew it wouldn’t be able to work for the two of you with the main reason being that you were dead.

It was the anniversary of your death Bucky and Steve were on a mission which Bucky wasn’t happy about. You was walking down the corridor when Wanda ran out of her room shouting your name.

“Jesus Christ Wanda don’t do that again!” You scolded, still not use to the whole they could see you now thing.

“Sorry” she chuckled.

“It’s fine what’s wrong?”

“Nothings wrong, its just-its better if I show you”

Frowning you followed her back to her room. “Wanda what’s going on?”

“So I’ve been working on something, for you-“

“For me?”

“Yes and I think I’ve managed to figure out a way to bring you back to life”

Blinking once, twice, you burst out laughing.

“Wanda that’s impossible”

“Not really…just come over here and let’s see if it works and if it doesn’t I’ll try again okay”

Doing as she says you stand in the middle of her room eyebrows raising as her fingers start to glow.

Nothing happens.

“H-how do you feel?” She asks hopefully.

“The same way I’ve felt for the past 15 years Wand, dead.”

Sighing in defeat “I’m so sorry Y/n I’ll keep try-“. Her words are cut off by a deep growl.

“W-what was that?” You stutter out.

“FRIDAY how many heartbeats are in my room?”

“Two Miss Maximoff”

“Who’s?”

“Yours and Miss Y/n’s”

“Catch” Wanda says as a book comes flying at you.

Wanda and you stand there facing each other with wide eyes. You caught the book.

“Oh my god. Wan-Wanda it worked”

After both screaming and crying your taken down to Bruce’s lab where your examined and blood, yes blood, was drawn.

Nobody could believe it and neither could you either but somehow Wanda brought you back to the land of the living.

Everyone promised not to say anything to Bucky as you wanted to surprise him.

A week later on your birthday Bucky and Steve came back from a successful mission. In that week Nat and Sam had to go and do three food shops as you kept eating everything. What can I say you’d been dead for 15 years.

You and the team was waiting on the hanger for them to exit the quinjet. Steve was out first shortly followed by a very tired Bucky but as soon as his eyes found yours he smiled hugely.

“Hey Y/n I’ve miss-“

You cut him off by throwing your arms around his neck. Bucky stiffened at first not believing it was really happening then he wrapped his arms around your waist pulling your further in.

“H-how?”

“Wanda”

“Oh”

After Tony coughed making the pair of you pull apart you - mainly Wanda - explained everything to the two super soldiers. Bucky refusing to let go of you completely. Steve smiled and gave you a small hug.

Much later that night you and Bucky was sitting on his bed with his arm around you when he abruptly stood up.

“Where are you going?”

“There’s ten minutes left of your birthday so we’re going to dance”

You watched with an amused smile as he turned the stereo on.

“I got Peter to do this when we was watching the telly earlier” he smiled.

Unchained Melody by The Righteous Brothers started playing through the speakers.

“Y-you remembered?”

“Of course I did doll, it’s your favourite song how would I forget”

Slow dancing in the middle of Bucky’s room with your favourite song playing in the background on your birthday made this the best birthday you ever had.

“I need your love, I need your love, God speed your love to me”

Bucky sings just as his lips touch yours.

~ banner credit goes to @sweetpeapod ~

Tags: @imcinnamoons | @pigeonmama

[s1ater]

cherry pie.

pairings. louis partridge x fem!reader

summary. reader never would have thought about getting high until she seems to have lost all her morals in one night with a boy she had never met before.

warnings. swearing, underage drinking and smoking

ricky rocks. YALL PLEASEEE bare with me. you can probably tell this is an older story because of the format, but just disregard the first half, i know it’s the lower end of my writing. it kinda gets better 😬 (edit: this story is so mid, i’m just trying to clear my drafts)

the room danced with colors, so many colors and shades you seemed to have never seen before. unfamiliar with their cause and purpose, unsure why you couldn’t touch them; it frightened you with the way they moved around, the way they twirled around your head like little ballerinas.

you swallowed, dropping your head back against the grungy brown couch sat in the corner of one of the back rooms of connor’s house, a boy you found yourself calling on day after day for the past two months for fun, and by fun you meant sex.

but tonight, you hadn’t seen the boy for what you could count as hours. there were other things on his mind rather than a high off their ass you. other pretty girls with less clothing on their bodies and longer hair that was paid more attention to than your own.

you couldn’t care less at that point in time as you felt so deep in a haze, nothing could pull your attention. nothing, until the seat next to you sunk in from the pressure of bodyweight and another high body, seeing the same things you were seeing, feeling the same things you were feeling. 

he just had it more under control. 

“you going to stare at the ceiling all day, love?”

you rolled your head to meet the eyes of a crazed blonde with matching brown eyes. delight swirled in his irises while he looked at you with also dazed eyes, almost ceased shut from swelling of the high. you looked amazed right back at him despite sober you would have been disturbed, never seeing a person so out of their mind.

“who are you?” you stared at him, shocked. 

“your new boyfriend,” he wiggled his eyebrows, jumping and readjusting himself up against you, his arm now slinging up and over you shoulders. a new kind of energy swelling through his chest, “i say we go on a date.”

he stared in front of him focused full hearty, as if visualizing something at that moment. you squinted, looking to where he was looking as if trying to see what he was seeing, but not enough weed could put you on his level. 

“i say, we leave right now, get some pie, maybe some coke. whatever you like sweetheart, i’ll give it to ya.” “I think your sweetheart wants some space, jake,” your eyes looked from the boy who sat next to you, jake, to the boy who now stood before the two of you, an unimpressed look on his face. his arm reached out to jake, practically yanking him from your side. “alright pal, let’s go for a walk.”

you watched jake stumble into him, “but louis, she’s pretty.”

louis glanced back over his shoulder as he begun to pull jake away from the couch and toward the door, now really coming to your attention. his eyes raked you up and down before smirking a little bit, nodding to himself, “sure man, she is.” 

he begun to walk away with jake wrapped around his shoulder before you got up fast almost tripping over your feet, not wanting them to go, “wait, i want a pie.” 

he looked back at you and your disoriented self. your shoulders were slung low, making you smaller than you actually were. your hair was all staticky, hanging above your head like a crown, and your eyes; dilated and filled with innocence.

he smirked, looking you up one more time before nodding you over, cuing you to follow after him, his arm still holding jake to his toes.

the boy’s car was blue. louis’ car was blue. it was one of those old, nice, restored cars that must have been worth thousands. the interior had light brown leather seating that made noise every time you shifted and readjusted yourself due to the old springs lying beneath. it made you giggle as you sat next to him in the front seat, jake lying in the back due to him not being just high, but rather cross faded. louis had apparently found him completely plastered out of his mind once he had first arrived at the party, leading him to hand jake a blunt to finalize his out-this-world experience. it wasn’t smart, but it kept louis entertained to say the least.

louis had glanced at you multiple times as he drove through the silent streets. he seemed eager or maybe even a little irritated as he watched you bounce around, lacking the ability to sit still as your eyes darted everywhere, from street lights to stop signs to anything that’d fully occupied your vision.

“have you ever been high before?” he asked, stopped at a stop light with red lights shading upon both your faces.

“nope,” your eyes wandered across the ceiling of his car. you ran your fingers along the soft carpeted interior—strange, but very stimulating and soft—making you feel all fuzzy inside of satisfaction. “louis, i love you car.”

he chuckles lowly, directing his eyes back to the road, “a lot of people do,” his lips were turned upwards into a slight smirk. it made the fuzzy feeling in your stomach turn warm as there was something very satisfying about just the way he looked. “we’re here.”

your eyes flick to the front of you where your visions bursts with neon lights beaming from the large “diner” sign pinned against the small vintage looking building. you're quick to slip out of the car to the euphoric sight.

“y/n!"

you stopped in your tracks at the sound of your name, glancing over your shoulder where your eyes immediately find a group of boys congregating together with one single boy appointed to attention to you. 

louis. 

"hold on. give me a minute, guys," you watch louis from five feet away, brush his friends off despite the yearning looks of amusement on all of their faces, looking between the both of you. he’s far from bothered or just doesn’t notice; brushing them off before meeting you to where you stood.

it was a wednesday after school. the sweet sound of louis’ voice and sight of his captivating face was the last thing you thought you’d come across. it must’ve been a mutual feeling with the way he looked you up and down, all winded looking. 

"you're a hard person to find."

"you've been looking for me?"

"of course," he has a cigarette in his mouth.

"I almost didn't think you were real."

"of course i'm real, sweetheart," he grins harder at you. "that fucked up, were you?"

you snort. if not being able to remember half of what took place that night counted for being fucked up, you took the trophy.

"well, alright. i'll take that as you had a pretty good night."

"one of the best."

“good,” he grins, “that’s a rare occasion for girls like you.”

“girls like me?” you scoff, arching a brow. his sentence could easily be something taken for offence, but the lighthearted tone to his voice only proved he was looking to mess with you. 

“yes,” he laughs with you. “usually drinking is the only thing you’d catch a teenage girl doing for non-sober purposes.” 

you nod, agreeing, because he wasn’t wrong, “i’ve had a fair amount of experience with alcohol and let me just say, i’ll be steering clear of that for a while.” 

“ah,” he tips forward on his feet in amusement. “i could’ve guessed you’re a wild one with your liquor, y/l/n. make some questionable choices.” 

you feel your face heat up in thought, “i won’t say you’re wrong.” 

louis lets out a small huff of laughter, before pausing all movement. he stares at you for a moment with narrow brows, as if trying his best to read you, “you ever wanna smoke with me, just let me know, alright?” he patted your back before suddenly walking past and away from you. your back was to him now but you could hear pat pat pat of his feet in the grass.

you frown, your eyes finding the cracks of the sidewalk as you think of how brief and unusual that was. you feel a large hole in your chest of unfulfillment. 

“louis, wait,” you shifted around rather quickly as a reality hit you, but you didn’t make any moves to chase after him. he turned as well as if waiting for it. “you uh, you didn’t tell connor i was with you guys, did you?”

yikes.

that’s not what he wanted to hear. 

louis pinched the bud of his cigarette, nodding to himself, thinking contently to his answer before exhaling, a thick cloud of white swirling out into the air before your eyes. you feel dazed, still high from the days before, filled with such naïve joy and lost thoughts of things you couldn’t remember now.

he threw his cigarette on the ground, eyes meeting yours again, only they were hard now and filled with no light heartedness like all times before. and his voice wasn’t soft or full of amusement either but dry as he stared you dead in the eyes, “why, he your boyfriend?”

your teeth sunk into your bottom lip, your eyes not meeting his for a while until after you thought about your answer. and it was an easy answer, no, but it was never something you’d ever consider a question. 

“no, no he’s not.”

“you sure about that?”

“not my type,” you smile slightly, examining louis’ pale cheekbones and facial features, the cold of the weather turning his complexion slowly red. your eyes drag to reach his red chapped lips.

him, he was your type. 

“enough of your type for you to fuck him,” he gave you a pointed look as if he had caught you in the act of something, and almost immediately your cheeks burned, like you were caught for something you knew you shouldn’t have been doing. 

you didn't understand why or how he knew. louis was someone you didn't know at all and what you and connor did was something you didn't tell anyone.

"you're surprised?"

"yes."

"why do you care what he knows, let alone fuck him?" he doesn't say anything more on how he knows like you hoped he would. "if he's not your type?"

you bite into your bottom lip, wincing because you didn't know the answer to it, "I don't."

"but you do," he slightly smiles but it's only out of annoyance as his voice catches up to cut you off on your lie. "I think you do, y/n. and you just don't want him to know we kissed."

"your mouth tastes like cherry."

"so does yours."

fuck.

"no, louis..." you wince, immediately regretting stopping him. "that's not what I meant. he doesn't mean anything to me."

he scoffs, "funny."

he doesn't believe you. not even close.

"you know he has label on you."

"a what?" you frown immediately, taking a step forward out of instinct.

“i’m a fool to think you’d ever stop liking him,” he holds his face, running his fingers along the sharp lines of his jawbone as he thinks about his idiotic hope that’d you so fastly fall for him as you did with connor. “foolish to think you’d drop him over one night.”

you’re even more confused now, “it was one night, louis.”

“you act like there isn’t the possibility that i’ve known you even before that night, y/n,” he has a smile that comes on his face but it isn’t something genuine. it’s annoyed. “your jerkoff of a boyfriend isn’t as secretive about you as you think.”

“he’s not my boyfriend.”

he scoffs, “you keep saying that.”

“because it’s true.”

“do you know what he says about you?”

“obviously not, louis,” four steps forward, four steps closer. “you keep speaking of ‘labels’ and whatever, but why don’t you just say it. what does he say about me that is so crazy?”

he didn’t expect the sudden brief and assertiveness you pull with your movement and words. it knocks him into a slight revelation as all he can do is stare at you and breathing, memorizing this side of you. 

“did he say i was a whore?” that was the only possible thing that you could think of at that moment that could be so bad. “he tell you i was a slut?”

it’s silent. you watch him think and the way he unintentionally avoids your hard stare with the thought process.

“ask him yourself.”

**

“has anyone ever told you you have pretty eyes.”

you feel your face burn upon the comment. everything in your body felt as if was about to burst upon the simple company of louis. even though it had to of been hours since connor’s house, and the diner, and even dropping jake off at his own home, you still felt out of your mind in the best way possible. all of your sense were still high, but your vision was fuzzy and you felt lag in your movement.

how were you still high?

“you have,” you felt yourself giggle, to which he smiles with a tip of his head, watching you.

“cute,” his fingers rubbed against his mouth in thought before reaching to you. you felt yourself inhale sharply at his sudden movement and hold your breath once they reached their destination; raking through your hair. “how does he do that to you?”

“what?”

“nothing,” he shook his head, still twisting his fingers through soft strands of your hair. you feel yourself relax, watching him and the way he seemed so focused on just you. “you’re just very pretty, y/n.”

you feel your eyes slightly widen, but his face doesn’t shift at all. he’s calm, while you feel your entire body burst once more into heat. you’re itching to move, you can’t just sit still in that burning warmth beneath his stare. you feel yourself move, leaning forward on your knees so your lips meet louis’.

louis smiles against the pressure of your lips against his--he almost forgets to kiss you back because of it. 

almost. 

his hands rack up and down the front of your body, lightly pressing into the hold he had around your rib cage, as if willing to crush you beneath his grasp as long as that meant you wouldn’t leave. this contact isn’t enough even for you. you want to feel him all over and the heavy hands holding your body isn’t enough. 

you’re on his lap now, one of your hands holding the top of his shoulder while the other claps his cheek. louis feels as if his own body is about to burst beneath you... this is all he has wanted, for a while, and now that he’s got it, he feels it’ll destroy him. you’re ignorant to his feelings, but you feel just as feverish with your heart thump-thumping within your chest, as if speaking to his. 

“your mouth tastes like cherry,” your chest is heaving up and down as you pull away, your wide stare boring into his own eyes with something of delirium. 

he’s smiling wide, tipping his head back against his seat to see your face better, “so does yours.” 

now you smile, “i like you louis.”

he almost groans, rolling his head side to side at the sound of those precious words, “you’re killing me,” he pulls the sentence straight out of his mouth like it was sarcastic, but he meant it, “say it again,” he wanted it. 

“i like you,” you repeat, this time his hand is on your cheek. “please kiss me.” 

oh, jeez. 

he stares, breathless, “okay.” 

***

it was a week after your fallout with louis and you couldn’t think about anything other than that. you felt a sudden emptiness and need for something that you barely even had; louis. 

every little micro interaction you had with him ran through your mind like a record, over and over till you felt you were going to throw yourself off a cliff. and it wasn’t just the connor comment--which was something you really, really couldn’t stop thinking about--but the seemingly quick liking he had taken to you. 

it had caught you off guard, but the more you thought about it, the more curious you became as to the whole thing; which was what led you here; connor’s house, on a friday night where he was once again throwing. 

“what have you been saying about me?” you stood in front of him, connor, your vision narrowed as you stared at him, examining him as if his whole existence was strange. 

“what?” his confusion was genuine as this question was rather abrupt and you made no attempt to make introductions. 

“you know louis partridge?” 

connor looks between you and the people he currently stood with, confusion still reeking his features, “yes..?”

“what have you been telling him about me?”

“you want to talk about this somewhere else?” 

“i want a straight answer,” you feel his hand wrap around your bicep, pulling you away from his crowd without an answer from you. 

“which i can give you if you weren’t so vague... why are you talking to partridge?” 

“you got a problem?”

the two of you are stopped in front of a boy; jake. 

“no, man, i think we’re good,” connor pays him no mind, side stepping him fast with you still in grip, continuing to interrogate you. you ignore connor, watching jake the whole way you’re being pulled while he watches you. you feel as if the boy isn’t real, like he was someone you had made up when you were high, but there he was, staring just as shocked, but equally skeptical as you were pulled further and further from him. 

“are you listening to me, y/n?”

“what?” 

“i asked you what you were on about?” you’re now in an empty corner, secluded away from the rest of the party. “haven’t seen you in days and you’re on a tangent about a boy you barely know, what’s going on?”

you finally focus on him, barely processing the words he was putting in your ears, but you didn’t have to in order to hear the fake sympathy and concern. 

“how do you know louis?”

he shurgs, “see him every time i throw. gotta get to know my usuals.” 

“yeah, and how well have you gotten to know him?”

he shakes his head, feeling attacked, “why?”

“because i think it’s my right to know what you’ve been saying about me to him and whoever else,” the seal of your calmness breaks as you extend an arm out, ready to scold him for anything he was about to say. 

his expression drops in return, knowing any attempt to make you calm and make the situation subtle was out of his hands. connor knew you well enough to know you were too far into your frustration to calm you down. 

“what’re you talking about?”

but that didn’t mean he had to comply. 

“your new choice in men is obviously not working out for you. even they know i’m the best you’ll ever have.” 

“what?” your head drops forward, taken aback at the sudden escalation connor had taken to his approach in words. “what the fuck are you on about?” 

he smirks, pushing the red solo cup he had up to his lips, glancing around before looking back down to you, “why else do you think he lied to you about whatever it is you’re asking?”

“i can’t believe this,” you pinch the bridge of your nose, “pull yourself out of that goddamn lie before you make yourself look even more like a fool. what have you been saying about me?”

“i find it best you don’t lie about this one, mate. you have an audience of witnesses,” there’s a hand on your back and a voice intervening. 

the two of you focus to louis who suddenly stands behind you, daring connor to push it. the boy looks confounded looking between you, louis, and the crowd of boys behind him. he doesn’t know what to do within the corner he had backed himself into. 

“whatever, this is my own fucking party. i don’t need to do shit,” he shoves past all of you. you all watch him storm away, not looking back, leaving you all to yourselves in the dust. 

“let’s talk,” louis says immediately the moment you look up to him, nodding off in a random direction. 

you slowly nod, following him. 

“i didn’t think you’d actually ask him.” 

a laugh gets caught in the back of your throat, shaking your head at the ignorance as he opens the passenger door to his car for you, “yeah?”

“yeah,” he slides into his own side of the car. “but then again, what would i know about you?”

“a lot, apparently. more than i would guess,” you lean your head against the palm of your hand, staring at him carefully. “you gonna tell me what he said now?”

louis looks hesitant, not even looking at you anymore as he thinks on how to answer. he doesn’t want to answer, it’s that simple, but he owes it to you to give you something sense he was the one who told you in the first place. 

“when i met connor, he talked about you a lot. a lot for someone i barely saw. it was like every party he had something new to say or nothing new at all. as long as it was you he was talking about,” he smiles to himself, thinking of all the bragging and praising he had put into you, all for connor to just... “you were like a prize to him, y/n--until you weren’t. he called you easy, but you were his. he said he could walk you like a dog because he was the only guy you thought of.” 

you feel rage and annoyance fume in the base of your chest as he speaks. he can see it form in your eyes, take over any look of calmness or subtlety from before. you make a move to push yourself back and out the door but louis is quick to grab your arm, pulling you right back to him, only closer. 

“hold on there, cowgirl,” your almost in his lap. “you’re better than that.”

“am i?” you’re squirming, almost pulling from the grasp his grasp if it weren’t for how warm he made you feel.

“yeah,” he’s smiling at you. “why waste any more of your time with him anyways when you could just be here with me?”

you couldn’t help but fall victim to the pulling sensation on your lips to smile at him. you feel that fuzzy feeling creep up into your stomach at his stare like the first time you were both alone in his car and suddenly all your anger at connor melts away.

“only if you offer me cherry pie.”

@aliyahsutherland @ioveisabel @multifandom-obsessed @remuslupinluvr @cryinginsanity @rebbyr @cc13723things @p-prettysour @sweeth0lland @heyitsmeimdead @ishwiya @thehuntress09 @Anushi @ss-tipton @black-rose-29 @rrosecar @thedeadlythoughts @amourtentiaa @instabull @rudypankowisdaddy @sunsetcurving @225786As @lukewearingbeanies @voiddtrinity @kiramdd @oliviasrodrighoe @s8xwz @highkeygolden @kitkat-mini @anicon_bby @itzstacie @spencybear @Msvrgs914 @whoreforsophialillis @w0nderr @deadbeatbarb @phantompogues @i-love-scott-mccall @alexmercer-reginaldpeters @greengarsstuff @rowena-ravenclaws-diadem @dayanaralight @felixulvr @demigirl-with-problems @hizziestial @whoreforpsychopaths @sunsetcurve-95 @siriusspuppyy @mxsmwndr @youdontlikethatdoyoucupcake @andrewgarfields-girlfriend @xivilivix @morganaah @eichenhouseproperty @confusedchildstuff22 @alliechickens @moonlighy @ancientimes @gabeisinluv @thelaststraw3 @i44nishi @navyabhatnagar @iluvt4ylorswift @liltimmyst @falcvns @alexxavicry @grxcisxhy-wp @esposadomd

[eeechooo]

She Gets Me

Fandom : Lockwood & Co

Pairing : Reader x George Karim

Request : @thestrangerblog

George has a pen pal (Reader) with whom he feels a deep connection, sharing similar interests and ways of thinking. They decide to finally meet in person for a casual picnic. As George gets ready in his usual casual clothes, Lockwood and Holly question his outfit, suggesting he should dress to impress. George firmly replies, "That’s how I am. Take it or leave it."

You’d been counting down the days. After months of exchanging letters filled with theories about ghostly phenomena, discussions on obscure historical facts, and shared frustrations about the peacock types in your respective fields, you were finally going to meet George in person. The picnic was your idea—a casual, no-pressure setting where you could both be yourselves. You had carefully chosen a spot in the park, a place with a mix of sun and shade, where the two of you could talk for hours without interruption.

Meanwhile, at 35 Portland Row, George was in his room, staring at his open wardrobe. He rifled through his clothes, his mind a whirlwind of thoughts. Should he go for something a bit more polished? Maybe a shirt without holes? No, he decided, shaking his head. He pulled out his favourite band T-shirt, one that had seen countless adventures and cases. It was soft, comfortable, and familiar—much like how he hoped the meeting with you would feel. He paired it with his trusty worn jeans, the ones that fit just right.

As he glanced at himself in the mirror, he ran a hand through his messy hair, trying to tame it but ultimately giving up. It sprang back to its usual dishevelled state. George nodded to himself, a small, satisfied smile playing on his lips. This was him, and he wanted you to meet the real George.

Downstairs, Lockwood and Holly were waiting, their curiosity barely contained. Lockwood, with his usual impeccable style, crossed his arms and raised an eyebrow as George descended the stairs.

‘You’re going like this?’ Lockwood asked, his tone a mix of disbelief and amusement.

George paused on the last step, looking down at his outfit, then back up at Lockwood. ‘Yeah, why not?’ he replied, shrugging. ‘It’s a picnic, not a gala.’

Holly, always the picture of grace and fashion, tilted her head and scanned George’s attire critically. ‘A picnic, George? Don’t you want to make a good impression?’

George rolled his eyes, feeling a mix of irritation and amusement. ‘I’m meeting someone who already knows me, Holly. They’ve read my letters, they know my thoughts. If they don’t like me for who I am, then what’s the point?’

Lockwood and Holly exchanged a glance. Lockwood’s stern expression softened slightly. ‘Just make sure you bring back some good stories,’ he said, a hint of a smile tugging at his lips.

Holly sighed but smiled warmly. ‘Fine, but at least comb your hair a bit more.’

George laughed, running his fingers through his hair in a half-hearted attempt to neaten it. ‘Happy now?’ he asked with a grin.

‘Close enough,’ Holly replied with a chuckle.

As George walked out the door, he felt a mix of excitement and nervousness. He was about to meet someone who had become a significant part of his life through letters. Someone who understood his passions and frustrations. He hoped the reality would match the connection they had built on paper. Who understood him.

You arrived at the park a little early, your heart racing with anticipation. You chose a spot under a large oak tree, spreading out the picnic blanket and arranging the food with meticulous care. The sun bathed everything in a warm glow, and a gentle breeze rustled the leaves above, creating a peaceful atmosphere.

As you adjusted the layout, you couldn’t help but feel a mix of excitement and nerves. You wondered if George would be the same in person as he was in his letters—thoughtful, engaging, and deeply passionate about the supernatural.

Your thoughts were interrupted by the sound of footsteps approaching. You looked up and saw George, exactly as you had imagined him: dishevelled hair, casual clothes, and a warm, genuine smile.

‘Hey,’ he greeted, his voice as familiar as his written words.

‘George!’ you exclaimed, standing up to meet him. ‘It’s so great to finally meet you in person.’

He smiled back, a bit shyly. ‘You too.’

You both settled down on the blanket, and the initial awkwardness quickly dissolved as you began to talk. The conversation flowed naturally, just like in your letters. You discussed the latest happenings in your agencies, shared your most recent discoveries, and vented about the superficial people you had to deal with in your line of work.

‘I can’t stand those types at Rotwell,’ you said, rolling your eyes. ‘You know, the ones who think a charming smile and a nice suit make them experts.’

George laughed heartily, nodding in agreement. ‘Tell me about it. They’re more interested in networking than actual research. It’s infuriating. Holly used to work with them, the lunatic.’

You felt a deep sense of camaraderie. Here was someone who truly understood your frustrations and shared your passion for uncovering the truth about the supernatural. That's exactly what you needed and wanted.

As the afternoon wore on, George began to talk about his latest project—a discovery he had made about the origins of a particularly aggressive Type Two. His eyes lit up with excitement as he described the breakthrough, his hands animatedly sketching out the details on a napkin.

‘And the best part?’ he said, leaning in closer. ‘It ties back to an old Persian legend my grandmother used to tell me. I’ve been researching it for months, and I finally made the connection.’

You listened intently, captivated by his enthusiasm and depth of knowledge. It was clear how much he loved what he did, and it made you appreciate him even more.

As the conversation shifted, George started talking about his passion for cooking, particularly Persian dishes. He recounted stories of his grandmother’s recipes, describing the rich, aromatic flavours with a reverence that made your mouth water. You remembered him writing about it, but now you could smell the faint scent of saffron on him, making it real.

‘You’ll have to try my tahdig sometime,’ he said with a grin. ‘It’s a crispy rice dish, and I’ve perfected the recipe over the years.’

You smiled, feeling a warm connection with him. ‘I’d love that. It sounds delicious.’

The sun began to set, casting a golden glow over the park. You both fell into a comfortable silence, enjoying the peacefulness of the moment. The fading light painted a serene picture around you, enhancing the sense of intimacy between you—a shared understanding and mutual respect that went beyond words.

George glanced at you, a soft smile playing on his lips. ‘This has been really great,’ he said quietly.

You nodded, feeling a rush of warmth. ‘It really has.’

As the sky turned shades of orange and pink, you knew that this meeting was just the beginning. There was so much more to explore together—more conversations, more shared moments, and perhaps even more Persian dishes to taste.

Back at 35 Portland Row, Lockwood and Holly were waiting eagerly for George’s return. They sat in the cosy library, Holly flipping through a book while Lockwood sipped on a cup of tea, both stealing glances at the clock every few minutes.

Finally, they heard the door open and George’s footsteps approaching. Lockwood set down his cup, his expression curious yet guarded. Holly closed her book gently, her eyes bright with anticipation.

‘Well?’ Lockwood prompted as George entered the room, a contented smile playing on his lips.

George grinned, the glow of satisfaction evident in his eyes. ‘It was amazing,’ he began, his voice filled with excitement. ‘We talked for hours. She’s exactly as I imagined—smart, funny, and so easy to talk to. We just clicked.’

Lockwood raised an eyebrow, his demeanour cautious. ‘And did you discuss any sensitive matters?’

George’s smile faltered slightly. He knew exactly what Lockwood was referring to—Joplin, the painful reminder of the dangers of revealing too much to those outside the agency. Too much, about the Problem, about him.

‘Nothing too sensitive,’ George assured him quickly, his tone earnest. ‘Just general discussions about work, our interests... you know.’

Holly’s eyes softened with understanding as she exchanged a glance with Lockwood. They both knew how cautious they had to be, especially after what happened with Pamela. Lockwood leaned forward in his chair, his expression serious yet supportive.

‘We’re glad to hear it went well,’ Lockwood said genuinely, reaching out to give George a pat on the back.

‘Yeah,’ Holly agreed, her voice gentle. ‘Sounds like you found someone who appreciates the real you.’

George nodded, feeling a sense of contentment settle over him. ‘I think I have,’ he replied softly, grateful for their concern yet eager to protect this new connection he had forged.

He knew he had to tread carefully, to not let his guard down completely. But in that moment, surrounded by his trusted friends who had become like family, George felt a rare sense of hope—that maybe, just maybe, this time things could be different.

After the first picnic with George, you returned home feeling a mixture of exhilaration and contentment. As you stepped into your shared apartment, your roommate greeted you with a knowing smile, her eyes twinkling mischievously over the rim of her teacup.

‘Well, well, well,’ she teased playfully. ‘How was your date?’

You chuckled, setting down your bag and joining her at the kitchen table. ‘It wasn’t a date,’ you clarified with a grin. ‘Just a picnic. But it was amazing. George is exactly as I imagined him—smart, funny, and so easy to talk to.’

Your roommate raised an eyebrow knowingly. ‘Sounds like a date to me,’ she quipped, taking another sip of her tea.

You rolled your eyes good-naturedly. ‘Okay, maybe it felt a little bit like a date,’ you admitted, feeling a blush creep into your cheeks.

She leaned forward, curiosity evident in her expression. ‘So, are you going to see him again?’

You nodded, a smile tugging at your lips. ‘I hope so. We really clicked.’

She grinned, setting her teacup down with a satisfied nod. ‘I’m happy for you. It’s about time you met someone who gets you.’

You felt a rush of warmth at her words. It was comforting to have someone who understood you so well, who supported your happiness without hesitation.

‘Yeah,’ you replied softly, gratitude filling your voice. ‘Me too.’

As you recounted the highlights of the picnic—George’s stories, his passion for the supernatural, and even his talent for cooking—your roommate listened attentively, sharing in your excitement and offering words of encouragement.

By the end of the conversation, you couldn't help but feel even more certain about the connection you had with George. And as you settled into bed that night, thoughts of future picnics and conversations danced through your mind, filling you with anticipation for what was to come.

Days turned into weeks, and George found himself eagerly anticipating each interaction with you. Whether it was meeting for coffee after work or exchanging late-night messages about the latest supernatural phenomena, every moment spent together deepened your connection.

Lockwood and Holly watched with cautious optimism as George navigated this new friendship. They could see how much George valued you, how your presence brought a new lightness to his demeanour. And while they remained vigilant, they couldn’t deny the genuine joy they saw in George’s eyes. After a month of bright eyes from their coworker and best friend with your name always on his lips, Lucy, Lockwood, and Holly decided that, perhaps, they could trust you.

As weeks passed, the bond between you and George continued to grow stronger. Every meeting brought new conversations, shared laughter, and a deepening understanding of each other's passions and quirks. Lockwood, Lucy, and Holly observed with cautious optimism, seeing how much joy you brought into George's life and how well you fit there, with him.

One evening, George received a rather unexpected invitation from Lockwood. ‘How about dinner at 35 Portland Row tomorrow night?’ Lockwood suggested "casually". ‘I thought it would be nice for all of us to spend some time together.’

George, surprised yet pleased, agreed. He relayed the invitation to you, and you gladly accepted, feeling both nervous and excited at the prospect of spending more time with George outside of your usual hangouts.

The next evening, you arrived at 35 Portland Row, the unfamiliar house exuding an air of mystery and warmth. You opted for a casual outfit—a comfortable jumper and jeans—but as soon as you stepped inside, Holly and Lucy greeted you with laughter.

‘Oh, you look absolutely adorable!’ Holly exclaimed, her eyes twinkling without an ounce of malice.

Lucy smiled warmly. ‘It's nice to see someone not dressed to impress for once.’

You chuckled, feeling immediately at ease with their playful banter. Lockwood appeared from the study, a gracious smile on his face as he welcomed you.

‘Welcome, please make yourself at home,’ Lockwood said, gesturing towards the dining room where the table was set for dinner.

The evening flowed smoothly as everyone settled in. Lockwood proved to be a gracious host, regaling you with stories of their recent cases and engaging you in lively discussions about supernatural phenomena. You found yourself drawn into the conversation, sharing your own insights and experiences, feeling a sense of belonging among George's friends.

During dinner, you found yourself seated next to George. He smiled warmly at you, his eyes reflecting the same joy and comfort you felt. As you talked, you realised how much you shared in common—not just your interests in the supernatural, but your values and perspectives on life itself.

‘I'm glad you're here,’ George whispered to you softly as you savoured his exquisite cooking.

‘Me too,’ you replied with a genuine smile, feeling a warmth spreading through your heart.

Lockwood and Lucy watched the interaction with subtle approval, exchanging knowing glances. After dinner, as you helped clear the table, Lockwood approached George discreetly.

‘I trust your judgment, George,’ Lockwood murmured, his voice low but earnest. ‘Both in your work and in your... friendships.’

George met Lockwood's gaze, a sense of gratitude and responsibility settling over him. ‘Thank you, Lockwood,’ he replied quietly. ‘I appreciate that.’

Lockwood nodded, his expression serious yet supportive. ‘You've both earned it,’ he added before returning to help Holly and Lucy with the dishes.

As you said your goodbyes later that evening, you felt a renewed sense of connection with George and his friends. And as you walked away from 35 Portland Row, you knew that you were becoming a part of something special, something that felt like home.

I AM SO LATE LMAODOSO HAPPY LATE BIRTHDAY!!! I hope it was good, my laptop has been annoying the whole time I couldn't really get IN you know.

I love how george is just being like yes I'm gonna meet her and it's either she likes me or she can go home

I'm trying to get back to writing, the exams killed me but it's okay I'll fight back SO IF YOU WANT TO MAKE ANY REQUEST IT'S OPEN

Taglist :

@cielooci @neewtmas @35-portlandxrow

[garmrheim]

🎄Santaphale Au collection🎄

Hello! ive had this in my draft forever now and its DUE TIME to make this and post it since ive gotten questions about the au and while i make art theres amazing other creators that has helped built it up in the sandbox and while i make art theres (as of now) three fics from the same universe posted on Ao3 that follows Aziraphale and Crowley in different points in their life. ------

For those that are wondering- the short introduction to it is that the Santaphale universe began over on discord with a handfull of friends that banded together to spin up an elaborate and extensive story featuring Crowley (she/they) around her late 30s in the beginning of the story and down the line she stops aging around her late 40s/early 50s and becomes immortal along with Aziraphale (he/him) , who (looks to be) around 50. He is of half human/elfin nature that makes him a cryptid of his own right with the power he weilds as The Spirit of Hope Through Darkness, Guardian of Childhood Wishes, the God of Winter Gifts, king of the northern elves, also called Sinterklaas or Santa Clause (Thank you salt for that perfect row of titles ) They met on a Christmas night when Aziraphale visits Crowley’s home while delivering presents and after a passionate night, departs after giving her a silver bell with summoning magic to ring if she wants to see him again. Crowley goes to bed, then wakes up thinking it was all a dream til she meets a familiar face a few months later and cue a lovely romance! They later come to live in the North Pole for the second half of every year, and eventually they end up having a small bunch kids that they love and adore and the art and fic follows this entire journey and so much more.

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This will be updated if and when new stuff is added just because i like having it all in one place and id like if you that are introduced to the au with my art has a way to get more! as of right now (december 2024) theres 3 fics published that belongs to this au and i will post their links and information below! i can highly recommend it as they are made by two of the most talented people i know and dear friends that im so happy to share this Santaphale sandbox with along with all the pals in our server hello! i adore you too! Any art that relates to Santaphale that ive done can be found on Bluesky now since i moved completely from twitter. its over on my Family oriented acc called VanadisHeim (that IS 18+ because theres also adult content there) the occasional Santaphale can also be found on my main account called GarmrHeim and any additional art made by my fellow cocreators that is published will also be added here! ✨ Have fun and enjoy! 🎄✨

''Silver bells'' @vaguely-demonic (Vaguelydemonic on Ao3) silver bells (5938 words) by vaguelydemonic Chapters: 1/1 Fandom: Good Omens (TV) Rating: Explicit Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply Relationships: Aziraphale/Crowley (Good Omens) Characters: Aziraphale (Good Omens), Crowley (Good Omens) Additional Tags: Alternate Universe - Human, Alternate Universe - Magic, First Meetings, Crush at First Sight, She/Her and They/Them Pronouns for Crowley (Good Omens), She/Her Pronouns for Crowley (Good Omens), They/Them Pronouns for Crowley (Good Omens), He/Him Pronouns For Aziraphale (Good Omens), Aziraphale (Good Omens) as Santa Claus, Bottom Crowley (Good Omens), Santa Kink, Cunnilingus, Vaginal Fingering, Crowley Has A Vulva (Good Omens), Aziraphale Has a Penis (Good Omens), Squirting and Vaginal Ejaculation, Coming Untouched, Coming In Pants, Mildly Dubious Consent, (previous tag clarified in author's note!), Crowley is vision impaired, Oral Sex, Christmas Smut Summary: It was Christmastime in the city and Mx. Antonia J. Crowley had resigned herself to yet another Christmas spent alone. Like everyone else, all she wanted was to live in a fairy tale world where she could just have her deepest desire purely because she wanted it: a nice big house somewhere quiet and far from the city, a partner to live out her days with, a happy family that loved her as much as she loved them. She'd come to the conclusion many, many failed relationships ago that what she wanted simply wasn't in the cards for her. Instead, her Christmas plans would once again be her, her ragged tabletop tree with a single ornament, and a bottle of wine to help her find sleep… Until there arose such a clatter and Crowley stirred from the sofa to see what was the matter. With a welcome so calm, collected, and pleasant, Crowley finds someone there in her living room, seeking to deliver a present. ------------------------------------------------- '' A Gift to us both '' @definitionsfading (Blackeyedblonde on ao3)

a gift to us both (7376 words) by blackeyedblonde Chapters: 1/1 Fandom: Good Omens (TV), Good Omens - Neil Gaiman & Terry Pratchett Rating: Explicit Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply Relationships: Aziraphale/Crowley (Good Omens) Characters: Aziraphale (Good Omens), Crowley (Good Omens)

Additional Tags: Alternate Universe - Human, Alternate Universe - Magic, Christmas, Aziraphale (Good Omens) as Santa Claus, Christmas Smut, Established Relationship, Developing Relationship, Domestic, He/Him Pronouns For Aziraphale (Good Omens), She/Her Pronouns for Crowley (Good Omens), Aziraphale Has a Penis (Good Omens), Crowley Has A Vulva (Good Omens), Age Difference, Romance, Kissing, Cunnilingus, Oral Sex, Penis In Vagina Sex, Breeding, Impregnation, Knotting, Crying, Confessions, Come Inflation, Mating Press, Pet Names, Tenderness, Aziraphale Has a Large Penis (Good Omens), Size Difference, Bearded Aziraphale (Good Omens), Babymaking, Soulmates, POV Aziraphale (Good Omens), Crowley Loves Aziraphale (Good Omens), Aziraphale Loves Crowley (Good Omens), Femme Crowley (Good Omens), Lingerie, Fluff and Smut, Ineffable Spouses, Cervix Penetration, Everything is Beautiful and Nothing Hurts, Sex Magic

Summary: “When you say Christmas ‘wish,’ does that mean a five thousand pound gift voucher to the Liberty store in London, or something more in the abstract?” Crowley asks, lightly tweaking the curl of Aziraphale’s mustache. “I need to know the technical parameters of what you’re offering, here.” Aziraphale hums around a little laugh but goes quiet for a few moments to consider the seriousness of what he’s proposing. “You are a passionate person with a good heart and boundless optimism despite the struggles you’ve faced in your life,” he says, stating it matter-of-factly because he considers it to be true. “I’m an unusual figure in the position to grant wishes where I’m able, whether they be material or miraculous. But I suppose what I wanted to hear, if you’d indulge me, was something closer to your heart’s most ardent desire.” Crowley opens her mouth and then closes it again. Azirapahle watches the line of her slender throat as she swallows. “You’re yanking my chain,” she says, laughing as she shakes her head. “Taking the full piss.” “I can assure you I’m not,” Aziraphale says. ______________________________________________________

''Merry&Bright'' @vaguely-demonic (Vaguelydemonic on Ao3)

merry & bright (6814 words) by vaguelydemonic Chapters: 1/1 Fandom: Good Omens (TV) Rating: Explicit Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply Relationships: Aziraphale/Crowley (Good Omens) Characters: Aziraphale (Good Omens), Crowley (Good Omens), Original Child(ren) of Aziraphale and Crowley (Good Omens) Additional Tags: Alternate Universe - Human, Alternate Universe - Magic, Aziraphale (Good Omens) as Santa Claus, Established Relationship, He/Him Pronouns For Aziraphale (Good Omens), She/Her Pronouns for Crowley (Good Omens), They/Them Pronouns for Crowley (Good Omens), Crowley Loves Aziraphale (Good Omens), Aziraphale Loves Crowley (Good Omens), Ineffable Spouses, Childbirth, Mild Blood, Bodily Fluids, it's childbirth okay there's gonna be some amniotic fluid, Pregnancy, Chestfeeding, Breastfeeding, Premature Birth, Less than ideal birthing conditions, Christmas, Christmas Party, Family Fluff, ineffable parents, Pregnant Crowley (Good Omens) Summary: When Aziraphale returned to the North Pole at the end of another successful run of delivering toys to the children of the world, the comfort of home was calling his name. A fire crackling away in the hearth. The promise of his beautiful family coming together for their grand holiday celebration later that evening. Crowley waiting sleepily for his late night return so he could slip into bed beside her and rest his palm over her belly, where their newest baby was nearly ready to join them. Truly, there was nothing more he could ever ask to come home to. Crowley and the baby had other ideas. Aziraphale had spent all night delivering gifts to others. It was Crowley's turn to deliver their own Christmas gift, away in a manger.

---

TO BE CONTINUED ✨

🎅🤶 👦👧👩🧒🧒👧👧🧒 🎄🦌🦌🦌🦌🦌🦌🦌🦌🦌🎄

[sykilik101]

@themattress @ultraericthered @illustrious-rocket @pepsi-al @shitirishaterssay @azelmaandeponine @gouthepro @cosmicheartz @warlordess @dchan87 @hollylu-ships-it @miyatoriaka @pokeshipping @johnnyd2 @zdbztumble @weirdgirl92 @sykilik101 @lovingtheshow @wiseabsol @echidnapower @gabbaana @dbzebra

My pals!!!!!!!!! My friends!!!!!!!!!! My darlings!!!!!!!!! My honeybuns!!!!!!!!!!😘😘😘😘😘😘

All of you genwunners are invited to the amourshipping wedding which is about to be held once gen 9 ends!!!!!!!😘❤️😘❤️😘😂😘🥰🥰🥰🥰

Food and drinks will be available for free!!!!!!!🤩🤩🤩🤩🤩🤩🤩

Cos pokeshipping is dead you genwunners!!!!!!!! 🤣🤣🤣🤣🤣🤣

So suck it up losers!!!!!!!!!!!

I missed you, homie! I was gettin' lonely not seeing so many exclamation marks in my Asks, but you have returned! This also means the return of these fics, so let's go!

The bedsheets were cool to the touch as Misty collapsed onto her bed. The gentle whir of the air conditioning was the room's only salvation from silence, sunshine managing to sneak its way through the blinds. She rolled onto her side, her nose nestled against the pillow. His smell had long since been washed out, but she was nothing if not willing to fool herself.

Misty traced a finger along the comforter, watching it curve and angle itself to her touch. She savored how soft it felt against her fingertip; she settled her entire palm against it, pressing down into the mattress. Maybe if she used enough pressure, she could simulate the way his sleeping form would feel next to her.

Ash had been nothing if not true to his word; phone calls were her weekly treat (or whenever the boy found himself in a Pokémon Center), and the occasional envelope containing a letter and photos graced her mailbox. She'd saved them, of course; each one would be admired before being lovingly placed inside a box for safekeeping. They were her connection to him when he felt so far away.

However, no voice on the other end of a line, no scratchy handwriting or imperfectly framed shots could compete with a held hand, a pair of lips touching its other half, a hug that could go on forever and never lose its warmth. A sigh escaped her; she'd taught herself how to handle the yearning, how to pretend his voice was whispering her name in her ear, how to find the color of his eyes no matter where it hid.

Naturally, none of it compared to the real thing.

A chime rung through the gym, and Misty shoved her face into her pillow with a groan. A trainer had arrived, but she was in no mood to entertain someone's desire for a badge on her day off. She was experienced, however; eventually they would get the hint that nobody was coming to the door, and she would be allowed to return to her daydreams.

Another chime, however, washed away any hope of that happening.

With a low sigh she pulled herself from her bed, trudging the few steps to her door where the intercom was stationed. Her flare had become as widespread as her skills; surely that was enough justification for her snippy words towards the unsuspecting victim, right? She's paint a small dab of professionalism over her inflection, but "get lost" would be front and center.

She pressed her finger onto the button, not even bothering to clear her throat. "This is Misty. I'm sorry, but today's my day off, so you'll have to come back ano-"

"Pikachu pi!"

"Well, you heard her, buddy, we'll have to come back later."

Misty's heart practically grew legs and sprinted its way into her throat, eyes widening as she found her breath momentarily stolen. The cusp of a grin began to shake her lips as she felt the bottoms of her eyes warming. She knew he was likely joking with his reply, but just in case-

"Ash?"

No response.

It couldn't have just been a figment of her imagination. His last call had been mere days ago; she could still call to memory the slant of his lips as "Bye, Misty" tickled her ears. His voice was so distinct and clear; even after days, weeks, months of missing his presence next to her, she'd never mistake that tone of his, the one he loved saving for jabs aimed at her.

Without another word she bolted from her bedroom, nearly stumbling to the floor as she raced for the entrance of the gym. Make this right turn, speed down this hallway before drifting left, then a quick right-

The glass entryway hid no guests; silhouetted by Cerulean City's sunset was a boy with a cap, a beaming Pikachu, and a smile that she'd only seen the pixelated and photographed form of for so long.

Misty couldn't tell if she wanted to take precarious steps or blitz towards him; her legs stumbled forward awkwardly as she found some semblance of a middle ground between the two desires. Ash, seemingly aware of (and amused by) her disbelief, waltzed through the glass doors.

"Hey, Mist."

The two were only a handful of steps apart, but the nickname was enough for Misty to throw gravity to the wind, practically leaping into the boy. Her arms ensnared his torso; Ash had survived worse things than a potentially crushed rib cage, he'd be fine. The previous warmth in her eyes was beginning to grow hot, a vice slowly tightening around her throat.

"Ash, what- what are you doing here?"

"Getting crushed by one of your hugs, that's what I'm doing."

Her normal behavior would dictate that she tease him for that hitch in his voice, but joy made her generous and she eased back, blinking away the miniscule moisture fogging her vision.

"You're really here."

Ash sheepishly rubbed the back of his neck. "Not for long if you keep hugging me like that."

"Piiika pika."

Pikachu patted at Ash's head, a cheeky grin plastered across his face. Ash retorted with his own, scratching the small mouse behind the ears.

"See, Pikachu thinks so, too."

Pikachu rolled his eyes, shaking his head before leaping to nestle himself atop Misty's shoulder.

"Pikachu pi pika."

"I don't think he does, Ash."

Their in-person banter had an energy she couldn't resist, elation splayed across her lips as Ash playfully pouted before her. A small giggle bubbled from within her; it was both surprising, and yet not, how quickly her previous dejection could be uprooted just by his presence.

A memory from their previous parting blipped in her mind. "Wait here, Ash! I didn't forget!" With a zeal in her step she practically floated back to her bedroom. Almost immediately upon entry she turned to the object hanging above her bed, and Pikachu cheered in glee at the sight. "Recognize this, Pikachu?"

"Pika pi!"

Taking it in hand she placed Ash's old cap atop her head, giving herself an approving nod in her bedroom mirror before making her way back to the entryway. Ash's grin grew tenfold at the sight of her, crossing his arms.

"Hey, nice hat you have there."

"Thanks, I had to send in about a million postcards to get it."

She giggled at his eye roll, but felt playful and, taking the bill in hand, spun it around so she wore the hat backwards. "Look at me, I'm a Pokémon Master in training!"

"Oh, come on, you have to put more energy into it than that! Look!" Ash hunched forward, holding the bill of his own hat between his fingers. He remained motionless for a moment, ostensibly for dramatic effect, before spinning it around, standing straight up as he did so.

"I'm Ash Ketchum, from Pallet Town, and I promise to be the greatest Pokémon Master in the whole world!"

"Pi pikachu!"

Misty could hardly blame Pikachu; when Ash wasn't being a pain in the butt, his energy was infectious, and seeing his goofy pose made her feel light on her feet, a flush warming her face. All of what she'd been feeling was suddenly coming to a head, and she felt as if her body was suddenly a slave to those emotions.

Wordlessly she took two steps forward and, with no warning for Ash, kissed him.

His sharp inhale nabbed her attention first, but his hands finding her waist stole it right back. She pressed her mouth harder against his; she hadn't realized until that moment how badly she missed this, missed the way his closeness and his touch and his lips made her want to melt away. Her arms snaked around his neck, using him as support and an anchor to bring him closer.

Their kiss petered out into smaller kisses before backing away, their lungs livid at the abuse they were taking. All she could see, think, feel was him; if the blush searing his cheeks was any indication, he felt the same way.

"I've missed that."

She grinned. "Me, too."

"Piiika."

Pikachu held his paws to his eyes, a bashful smile adorning him. The two shared a laugh, with Misty rubbing the top of Pikachu's head. "Sorry, Pikachu."

"Pika pika."

He leapt off her shoulder onto the floor, bounding towards the pool where the matches were fought. He turned to the duo, waving his hand to them.

"Piii-ka!"

"He probably misses all of your other Pokémon."

"Then I'll have to let them out; they've missed you both, too."

"But not as much as you, right?"

She threw him a smirk, giddy at the way his expression practically mirrored hers. "If you beat me in a battle, I'll tell you."

Ash beamed, taking her hand in his and nearly dragging her to the pool. "Better watch what you say, Mist. Pikachu and I won't go easy on you!"

"You better not, or else my Pokémon will send you back to the Pokémon Center in a flash!"

Their squabble continued as they made their way to the pool. Truth be told, a battle with Ash always lit the fire inside her. Whether she won or lost was irrelevant; standing across from him, watching his passion burn and seeing his brain wrack up ways to win were inspiring. She loved that about him, and always would.

They would battle, and their Pokémon would need to rest, and that was fine by her. It just meant that that night, Misty wouldn't have to press her hand into the mattress, or try to remember what Ash smelled like against her. She didn't know how long she'd have him, but she was determined to make every second count.

[genderqueerdykes]

finding out i'm intersex has been the most relieving, freeing thing i've experienced, second only to starting testosterone. like... finally knowing why my body was so different from my perisex transmasc peers', why i could never relate to them, why i always gravitated towards intersex discussions of their development--because hold on a minute, that sounds familiar!

i felt just like. really ashamed for a long time. ashamed for relating to intersex folks (because i was worried about "co-opting their experiences" no matter how silent i stayed about my experiences, no matter how much i denied the Strangeness around my own bodily development, no matter how much i tried to reassure myself that it's okay to relate to people who aren't necessarily like me, etc--the moral OCD probably made this a thousand times worse), ashamed for never relating to perisex [transmasc] folks, and just. Ashamed.

things finally clicked into place for me recently ("hold on, wtf do you mean growing multiple, actual beard hairs at 16 (pre-T!) when all of your cis, perisex male relatives only started growing their facial hair in their early 20s at the very earliest is 'normal perisex development'? that feels completely backwards. like wildly backwards. dude, you're nearly a year and a half on T and you've gotten absolutely 0 fat redistribution, all that's happened is you've gained weight and muscle; your body generally has the exact same ratios part-to-part as it did before, just Bigger/More. buddy, you were a fucking baritone pre-T, which is wildly deep for someone who is presumably perisex and was afab. pal, every single effect of testosterone happened WAY sooner and more 'severely' than expected (except for the fat redistribution, which didn't happen at all because your fat distribution was already extraordinarily masculine), you're extremely sensitive to testosterone HRT in a way most perisex people probably would not be. friend, you have notably high testosterone levels and the only reason nobody mentioned it is probably because you were tested to go on testosterone, not because of other concerns (that you never mentioned), thus leading to them thinking it was a non-issue, or at least would be a non-issue in a few months since you were going on T anyways--and also, when has anybody ever mentioned that you've had notably high or low levels of anything? it took you months after the corresponding blood test to learn you had an iron deficiency requiring 130mg in iron supplements every day until you no longer got your period! why would they ever mention the high testosterone levels to you???"--etc etc, i could probably go on for hours) and it's been. possibly The Best Thing for my self confidence and mental health. it feels obvious in hindsight, but hindsight is also 20/20. and also i was riddled with moral OCD and fears of doing/saying/feeling/thinking Something Wrong. following you and hearing your experiences and thoughts has probably helped the most since it like. made the possibility of me being intersex Less Scary to consider.

anyways. Yeah. just needed to ramble about this somewhere/to someone since i'm not really in any intersex spaces (at least, none that i feel comfortable talking much in) and it's a lot to bottle up, even if it's by and large positive hdsgjs hope you don't mind lol

you know, the thing people need to realize is often times there is a lot of time that passes before someone realizes they're intersex. like for a lot of intersex people, not all, but a lot, it takes a really long time to figure that out. and they may question being intersex by reading others' experiences. that's not a bad thing i don't see how it's bad for someone to educate themselves and go. wow that really feels like me. i see myself in this

people get so hostile and mad towards people who are questioning and its like. we ALL go through a questioning phase when it comes to adopting queer identities. you don't just pop into existence knowing the words for all of your experiences. you have to learn somewhere. we have to be kinder to people who don't know what their experience is just yet

i'm glad realizing that has been good for you! i felt the same way when i realized it i was like ??? why can't i relate to a lot of these experiences. being intersex can be a super unique experience that makes you feel like a total outlier. i'm glad you now have a word and a community for who you are and what you're going through! thanks for stopping by, i really appreciate hearing from you! let us know if you need any help down the road

[captainjacklyn]

Love, Love, Love Part 2-ish

A/N : continuation of this and this, hope you liked the first part because I'm on an absolute roll. To all those waiting for a continuation of many of my series, I am so sorry. I'm serious guys pls forgive me I know it's been a really long time since and I still need to finish other requests I started.

Context : Rollo gets transferred to NRC for a few months, The Headmaster decides that he would be staying at Ramshackle Dorm much to Malleus' dismay (along with grim and the first years who are aware of the truth). Yuu doesn't find it nice either but with time they allow the third year to open up to them, eventually growing mutual respect for one another, perhaps some friendship..and a bit more.

Warning(s) : fluff, mostly crack, hints of rollo liking Yuu, this is a continuation of some sort to my joke so pls understand that it isn't from the beginning, Rollo might be OOC he's just scared of Yuu, they/them pronouns for Prefect, the first years who weren't present in glorious masquerade find out and try to push rollo away. (it doesn't work) is this stolen from peter rabbit ? Yes. Most. but not all of it.

The story starts...now ?

Something suspicious was stirring around the 'relationship' between Yuu and the strange newcomer. At least it looked like it to their close friends who were already bitter about the idea of that religious trauma-induced student coming but even more so when that horrible influence hung around their prefect.

It wasn't as if they didn't trust Yuu, they didn't trust him ! He was being all close with their mom friend pal, knowing what he did, they weren't going to stand around and do nothing. They're gonna do something about it, about him.

It all began the day the Adeuce duo and Epel witnessed Yuu casually speaking with grey haired priest and HE WAS SMILING?! OH HELL NAH GET YOUR EYEBALLS OFF OF THEM- but truly they misunderstood, for now at least, since most of the resident's interactions regarded around Yuu, threatening Flamm..Of ripping his guts out.

.

.

.

.

.

"Ace, Deuce!" Grim shouted through the halls as he ran towards them, the both of them turned around to see the raccoon panting and wheezing from his sprint. "Hey there Grim- Woah what was that?~ You trynna imitate being a cheetah now?" Ace teased, his remark making the fire cat retort with a 'hey!' before Deuce stepped in to ask the obvious question. "What's wrong?" forgetting his comeback, Grim immediately switched back to panic mode.

"My Henchman! A-A-And that weird suspicious dude! They're SPENDING TIME TOGETHER AND BEING ALL WEIRD MUSHY LOOKING!" He exclaimed, his revelation shocking the two freshmen who's eyes widened in horror. "What- How?! Didn't prefect say they hated that guy?" Ace sputtered as he tried making sense of the situation, he was a bit confused as to why he was reacting this way but with the amount of braincells left he couldn't care anymore.

"That's what I thought! But this morning I found them- laughing and talking to each other!" he added more fuel to the fire, ace and deuce exchanged concerned glances and spoke in unison. "We gotta get the others."

"Yes !" Grim smiled as he threw a fist in the air. It took a good second for him to realize they didn't say what he thought they would.

"...Wait what- AH!" But he didn't have time to argue as they grabbed him by the neck and made their way to find the others.

Passing through Savannaclaw, Pomefiore and Diasomnia almost felt like an eternity to fetch Jack, Epel and Sebek. Especially the half-fae as he was persistent on the idea of staying by his future king's side during the entire duration of Rollo's stay. After sharing the news, they all bolted to Ramshackle dorm, and there they saw it.

Yuu was having a conversation with the same young man that dropped them down a trap door when they came around for a celebration. The same young man who tried to erase magic forever. And they were speaking like they've been friends for years.

The group of first years were hiding behind a tree, in between the gates of the not-so-abandoned dorm. All of their heads comically poking out to take a peek at the flabbergasting sight. "That's a lot of smiling." Epel commented as he watched the prefect supposedly laugh at something Rollo said. (They weren't, they quite literally started to laugh because of Rollo's genuinely terrified face) "More than before even." he continued, Ace added on with another remark, "They're showing a lot of teeth."

Then, Jack made a very bold statement which earned collective noises of disgust from the rest of the team. "Do you think they like him?" Sebek's face morphed into horror, Grim started gagging, Deuce looked like he was going through fifty existential crisis all at the same time, meanwhile Ace was debating on what he should express. Either way they were all mortified.

"They don't like him, they're just being nice! Yuu is nice all the time, they always smile at us!" the grey monster retorted, denying any further supposition. "Well..not like that." They flipped their heads towards the pair, and Yuu's hand rested on Rollo's shoulder as he chuckled nervously.

.

.

.

.

.

"Could you imagine? You trying to take over the world again? What a joke ! I would bury you alive honestly!" the non-magic student exclaimed as they broke into another loud laughter. Rollo could only nod along a little offended but mostly nervous, "Right yes no that would- that won't ever happen." "Yes because I will actually force-feed you the flowers you tried killing us with."

"😨"

"😄"

Yay. Part 3 coming up soon.

[notsoattractivearenti]

Two and A Half Men (Christian Pulisic x Fem!Reader x Weston McKennie)

WC: 1.1K

Warnings: none

A/N: ok i'm not sure how to put it properly in the title without looking like a threesome group LMAO but in this fic Christian is reader's partner and Weston is both reader and Chris' best friend. and i'm aware Christian is holding a ball in the cover pic but imagine it’s a baby instead! this one is probably meh but i've been thinking about this idea all day and just had to write it down. hope you guys enjoy and i’d love to hear your thoughts thru ask/reply/reblog 💗 apologies for any errors! feedbacks are highly appreciated 🤍

—

“Knock knock… Can I come in?”

You see Weston’s head peeking through the slightly-opened door, respectfully waiting for you and Christian to let him in.

You wave your hand from the hospital bed to invite him to come inside. Wes carefully opens then closes the door, and quietly walks toward you. You see him bringing two bags of something in one of his hands but you can’t figure out whatever those may be.

“Hey, Y/N!” He gives you a big hug. “How are you feeling, my friend?”

“Hi Wes! Very exhausted, of course, but all good. Thanks for checking in.” You respond weakly.

“Oh I figured!” He laughs. “Christian told me you were in labor for almost 24 hours??? That’s wild! I don’t think I could be as strong as you were!”

You chuckle with a faint smile written on your face. You weren’t lying when you said you are very exhausted – it was a very long and painful process you had to go through to bring your child into the world. But no matter how insanely tiring the labor was, you loved every second of it and would do it all over again.

“Yeah… Wild indeed. Totally worth it, though.”

“By the way,” Weston hands you one of the bags he brought earlier, “I got you sushi. I know you love them and you couldn’t have even one during your pregnancy, so I believe you deserve some.”

“No way! Thank you Wes!” You excitedly unpack the bag and open one of the three boxes of sushi Weston gave you. You haven’t eaten one in nine months, and right now it’s like those delicious sushi are begging you to eat them right away – and obviously you can’t resist it.

“Ugh, sushi is overrated.” Christian scoffs.

—

Christian just came back from changing your baby’s diaper in the other room. He is holding your little bundle of joy in his arms – since he was just born, Christian has already become so protective of him he didn’t want the baby to ever leave his arms.

“Hush, C, no one needs to hear your trashy opinion.” You playfully clap back at his statement.

Your banter cracks Weston up. He cackles and you both do a high five.

“Ha-ha! Burn bro!”

Christian squints and shakes his head. He is more than happy to know that his best pal and his life partner are best friends, but sometimes when you two “gang up” on him – which happens really often, because you both love to make fun of Christian together – he would feel so outnumbered and get quite annoyed by it.

“Hmm, I’m not loving this dynamic, you know.” Christian says sarcastically.

“Oh boohoo, don’t be so bitter, white man.” Weston mocks him in response.

“Anyway, what’s up, new dad!?” Weston greets Christian then does the usual handshake with him – but since Christian is currently holding your baby, they do the one-hand version of the handshake.

“Happier than ever bro! I’m living the dream!” Christian gushes. 

“Aww, congratulations my brother!” Weston excitedly pats Christian’s back.

Christian gently supports the baby's head and back with his hands then slightly lifts the baby closer to his face.

“Here, we want you to meet our son, Finley Mark Pulisic. You can call him Finn for short.” Christian officially introducing your little man to his best buddy.

Weston is immediately in awe of Finn. His eyes were instantly locked on the face of the cutest little human he has ever seen.

“Wow, dude, he is so precious…” Weston murmurs. “You’re so lucky. man”

“Yeah, I know.” Christian replies.

His eyes are also very much set on Finn, admiring how adorable his little one truly is. For him, “lucky” is an understatement. He feels like he has hit the jackpot with the family life he’s now living, and would not want to change even the littlest thing.

Weston feels the urge to caress Finn’s little chubby cheeks with his finger, but he doesn't want to cross any boundaries so he asks for Christian’s permission before doing anything.

“May I feel his cheeks?”

“Yeah, of course.” Christian allows him to do so.

Weston gently caresses Finn’s cheeks and his heart suddenly feels like it is exploding.

“Oh my God, why is he this soft!? These fluffy cheeks are to die for! He is so cute!” Weston just blurts his thoughts out.

You – who is currently busy eating sushi that Weston brought for you on the bed – laugh when you hear what Weston said. It is clear to you that he has become Finn’s number one fan.

“What can I say, I did make one hell of a cute baby.” You chime in.

“We. We made a cute baby.” Christian jokingly corrects you.

You roll your eyes, blow a raspberry at him, then continue eating.

“Yeah, no, Finn’s cuteness is definitely all Y/N. Like, one hundred percent Y/N.”

Of course Weston is taking your side, he just wants to get into Christian’s nerve.

“Yea, yea, yea, whatever.” Christian mutters.

—

Christian’s arms get tired from carrying the baby for quite some time, so he puts Finn down on his crib next to your bed. At the same time, Weston feels like he is forgetting something, so he looks around and realizes he brought another takeout food for Christian. He quickly grabs the bag to hand it to Christian.

“Oh, Chris, I brought you some burritos,” Weston hands the other bag to Christian, “they are not from Chipotle, but you gotta eat, bro.”

Christian chortles.

“You don’t need to do that, but thanks a lot bro.”

“Anything for my favorite new parents.” Weston winks and funnily does the finger guns at us.

“You know what Chris? I just thought about this: now that you have a son, we’re like two and a half men. Like, you and I are the two and Finn is the half. How awesome is that?” Weston randomly tells Christian about this thought that crosses his mind.

You were listening to Weston’s random thoughts and already feeling left out – obviously you are not being serious – you voice your protest to him.

“Hey! What about me? Where am I fitting in on this scenario?”

“You will be the one who gave birth to the half man!” Weston laughs.

You’re confused as you don’t find that funny, but you think you should just play along.

“Eh,” you shrug, “whatever.”

“You two can raise Finn together then.” You acted upset.

“Y/N, please, don’t be mad…” Weston pretends to beg for your mercy.

“You and I both know anyone is better at parenting than Christian, right?”

“Come on guys,” Christian groans, “stop bullying me!”

—

taglist: @pulisicsgirl @neverinadream @swimmingismywholelife @chilwellspulisic @bracedes @lovelynikol16 @thoseboysinblue @lizzypotter14 @masonsrem @landoslover

[joelswritingmistress]

You Scare Me, Professor: Chapter 40

Summary: The reader is taking graduate classes at a local university in the wooded upstate New York. She is drawn to her professor, Dr. Joel Miller, though she is also inherently aware that he has something dark about him that she can't quite put her finger on. As the reader's attraction grows deeper, she has to decide whether to endure the danger or run away as fast as possible.

Pairing: Professor Joel Miller x f!reader

If you'd like to join in for a girl’s day we're going to the spa, Carol’s text read when I awoke the next morning.

“Well, what am I going to do with myself all that time?” Dr. Miller teased; though after a cozy morning in bed together, he bid me farewell for the day. I knew it would give him a chance to go skiing or snowboarding without having to feel bad about it. I was sure he would link up with Will at some point.

I was nervous when I met up with Carol again, as I had never met her friends that were in the wedding party. There were three of them. Wendy, a cousin she had a close friendship with. Ernesta, a friend that Carol had been close with since her teenage years. And Annie, a British woman Carol had worked with for over ten years at Hillcrest. The two of them had become really close over time.

“This is (Y/N),” Carol introduced me to her circle of pals. “She and Joel have been seeing each other.”

“He's quite the hunk,” Annie teased, making Carol laugh and swat her friend in the arm.

I laughed with them and shrugged. “Thank you for the invite.” Their banter was giving me serious Mamma Mia vibes.

“I hope you like mimosas and massages,” Ernesta said to me. “It's the only way we could convince this one to stay off the slopes the day before her wedding.” She motioned to Carol.

“I can do mimosas and massages,” I assured them, grinning as they welcomed me to their little hen party.

“And pedicures,” Wendy added.

Once the five of us were down in the underground area that housed the spa, all donning bathrobes, I finally let myself relax around them. They were all friendly, though I could tell how close these women were. It made me miss Tori a bit; though I was perfectly content where I was.

“And how long have you been together?” Annie asked as we sat side by side in pedicure chairs with our feet soaking.

“A couple of months,” I explained. It had only been about a month-and-a-half but I rounded up.

“Ahh, new romance. That's the most fun in the world.” She had a friendly, round face and her accent made me smile. Annie was one of those funny, warm souls. I already enjoyed being in her company.

“I really like Joel a lot,” I told her, smiling wide. “He's just..”

“A hunk,” she blurted out again, shamelessly, as she adjusted her oversized glasses.

I chuckled. “Yeah, he's a hunk,” I agreed.

“Do you ladies want to try to salt caves?” Wendy asked, leaning forward in her chair so she could see everyone.

“What in the bloody hell is that?” Annie asked.

“They’re supposed to promote relaxation,” Ernesta explained.

“They have those here?” Carol asked.

Wendy nodded, “We might as well go into this rehearsal dinner fully relaxed, right?”

Annie raised her hand and spoke to no one in particular. “Another mimosa, please!”

I laughed to myself and sat back as the staff returned to prepare our pedicures. It made me realize how badly I needed a girls’ day.

..

James sat in a room in the security building alone. A spread of small monitors was in front of him and he studied one after the other after the other. Despite the case being on the shoulders of more prominent law enforcement officials, James couldn't help himself. He wanted to see first hand if the security footage held any information of the identity of the lady killer.

It had been multiple days. James had spent hours in that room by himself. Solving this insane string of murders had become an obsession. Each time someone was murdered, the obsession grew stronger.

James had looked through one area of campus footage to the next. He kept at it most nights until his eyes grew so strained and tired that he couldn't focus anymore.

The date. The time of the kill. He knew the numbers by heart, almost down to the second. And while the body had been dropped where no cameras were, the person responsible had to be on those tapes somewhere.

That night, after months of searching, James finally thought he had a lead. In one camera from the night of the latest murder, there was a shadowy figure that crossed passed a row of trees near the pond on campus. He almost didn't see it, but after pausing the footage just right, there was a clear pair of legs he could see mid-stride. It was so dark that that's all he could make out - the legs. The upper body blended with the darkened backdrop.

That one almost went unnoticed. But it led James to explore the next camera along the traveler’s path. Again, the figure blended and almost went unnoticed, but there was movement clear as day, especially when he zoomed in.

“I'm gunna get ya,” James spoke to himself as he sipped on a coffee. He never took his eyes off the screen.

The next surveillance camera was similar. Shadowy, unclear movement. Easy missed at first and second glances. But someone was there. Someone was lurking away from Woodbridge’s campus at the exact time the body had been dropped.

“Come on,” he begged. “Show yourself.”

By the time James got to the final camera on campus, the person walked beneath a street light and he paused it.

“Fuck.” James zoomed in and zoomed in again, and then zoomed out. The only thing he could tell was that this was a human being. That's it. Was it a man? A woman? From the stature he guessed a man but he couldn't even be one hundred percent certain of that. Their back was to the camera and they were clad in all black.

And that was it. The person rounded off campus and onto the next street.

James smacked his hand down on the table in frustration. “Damn it.” He slumped in his chair and sighed, staring at the vacant scene before him.

Where did he go?

“Bank Street,” James spoke aloud. His eyes danced back and forth as he thought of the route.

The person took a right onto Bank Street. There was a bar called O'Malley's, Planet Pizza, a candy store and two little clothing shops. Across the street from that was an old time ice cream parlor named Pete’s, Crave Cookies and a sneaker store.

One of those has to have a camera.

James checked his watch, downed the rest of his coffee and then headed out to hit the businesses of Bank Street.

CLICK HERE FOR THE NEXT CHAPTER

@untamedheart81 @suttonspuds @cesspitoflove @michilandcof @grogusmum @morallyinept @akah565 @brittmb115 @magpiepills @poodlebae @gobaaby-blog-blog @mermaidgirl30 @mandijo17 @shotgun-shelby @itscatrodriguez-thepearl @macaroni676 @acciowolfstar1 @smolbeanzzz @sarcasm-theotherwhitemeat @bandluvr97