#i actually was gonna get a shirt made sort of like that ages ago but forgot about it until this moment

[b14augrana]

Nervous

You find yourself sitting next to Lucy on the team bus during the ride to your first match after an interesting first impression

Lucy Bronze x teen!reader

pt. 1 masterlist

Warnings: teen reader so no smut and also not proofread xx

A/N: this was requested!! sorry it took ages for me to write this second part, it’s been a hard week for barça fans 🫤. bear with me guys but this is kinda short 🤦‍♀️!! i’m making up for it with a part 2 of my ona fic if anyone cares heh… 😅

Meditating. The only way you could possibly shake off the nerves of your first game... if that was even possible. What was a big deal to most players was an even bigger deal for you. Not because it was a special match of any sort, but because you felt like you had something to prove, y'know, being 17 and all. Being young, underestimated, and in some eyes, unreliable.

That all led you to sitting cross-legged on your bed, meditating and almost losing your breath completely trying to hold it and calm yourself down. You couldn't tell if it was actually calming you down or just getting you closer to losing consciousness, so you stopped shortly after.

The team bonding sleepover you had with your new teammates had flown by, and before you knew it, it was 6 something in the morning and you were calling a taxi to take you back to La Masia, your bags slung on your arms and weighing your already tired body down. That was a couple days ago, and now you weren't as groggy and you had retrieved the t-shirt you left at Aitana's house.

You liked it though. You got to know the girls and you definitely bonded. You just could not stop thinking about Lucy.

She was cocky, and she was attractive — that was probably the worst combination. What made it even worse was that she knew she was attractive.

It wasn't just the way she talked, but the way she sat with her legs spread and her arms splayed along the couch, the way the muscles in her forearm slightly flexed with every slight movement, the way she smiled. The way she was very, very well aware of the effect her actions had on you.

"Muchaha, vamos!" said a voice from the hall of the dormitories which you could only recognise as Ona. She peered around your door frame, rolling her eyes. "Are you gonna move or keep sitting there? We've got a bus to get on!"

"Shit, I forgot about that. Lo siento," you replied, snatching up your gear and almost tripping on your way out. You stumbled down the hallway and down the stairs, exiting the academy complex to be faced with the huge team bus. It was staggering to realise how big it actually was, and you were glued to the spot in shock for a moment before a firm tug on your wrist snapped you out of your trance and dragged you onto the bus.

At first glance, it looked like there weren't any seats at all. "Where are you gonna–" you started, but then you were cut off. "Looks like someone saved you a seat, Ona remarked.

You looked at her, your eyebrows knitted in confusion, and they tightened when she dashed to the back of the bus and slumped next to Aitana. You threw your hands up and shook your head in further confusion.

She pointed to the only other vacant seat, and their simultaneously mischievous winks didn't make sense until you looked over to where they were pointing.

Lucy was looking at you with a smirk, and beside her was an empty seat. Your eyes widened as you glared at Aitana and Ona, pleading and begging with your eyes for them not to make you sit next to her. They had obviously picked up on your behaviour around Lucy, because they pretended not to notice you, leaving you with no other option but to sit next to Lucy. Her smirk was far from welcoming, and it actually irritated you as you threw your bag into the overhead luggage compartment and sat down, crossing your arms.

"What's wrong, (Y/N)? Did I do something?" she jeered, whispering in your ear. "Cut it out, Lucy," you snapped back.

"Hey, this isn't my fault. You're the one that's all frustrated for no reason about sitting next to me when I’ve done nothing," she replied, laughing at your behaviour.

"You’re too pretty to be scowling like that. Gives you wrinkles," Lucy continued, looking over at you with that same smirk that you just wanted to slap off her face. That same smirk that drove you crazy in more ways than just one. You couldn’t tell if it was just her personality, or if she deliberately did these things to get under your skin. Either way, that’s what was happening.

"Whatever. Thanks, I guess," you mumbled, not being able to help the warmth in your cheeks. You knew it was wrong, because you were 17, she was God knows how old, but you couldn't help whatever it was that made you want her despite wanting to hate her so badly. It was a contradiction you couldn't escape, one that would seem to trouble you until you were 18.

It was irritating to be so bothered and nervous by the woman beside you who could do nothing and still make your breath hitch. Ona and Aitana were probably having a field day in the back of the bus as they watched you struggle, knowing exactly why you were behaving the way you were; because you were attracted to the Englishwoman. You knew it came with being a teenager, but having desires about a certain someone was the last thing you needed on this day specifically, let alone every other day that you’d have to spend with her because it was inevitable.

“¡Mírala! Obviously she likes it,” Aitana whispered to the other Spaniard on her left.

Ona snorted and replied in a hushed voice, “Ni siquiera es mucho más joven, pero aún así sería ilegal. ¡No queremos que Lucy vaya a la cárcel!”

They tried to stifle their laughs as they watched you sneak not-so-discreet glances at the woman beside you. Their attempt was successful for the most part, because you and Lucy didn’t hear, but Patri did, and she gave Ona and Aitana a suspicious glare.

You weren’t paying attention to them — you were too busy distracting yourself by counting down the minutes until you arrived in València… and also the days until your 18th birthday. For no specific reason.

[try-set-me-on-fire]

Hiiii 💕💕💕

For the wip game (the highlighted ones)

-❤️🪐

Hello!! For you since you’ve been interested in it for awhile and i promised you a scene ages ago and only just now finished it: big heart, I wanna let it bleed, aka buck joins the team younger fic! Here’s a complete drabble about them running into Phillip on a call…

They’re not in an enclosed space but, somehow, the kid’s laughter is still echoing around them. Bobby tries to bite down on his smile as he calls a vaguely warning “Buck,” though he’s not too worried about professionalism seeing as the surfer — who’s trunks are truly mystifyingly tangled on his board — is cracking up even harder. He’s sort of… hung up there, board stuck nose down in the sand, man dangling up on the back end of it. They seem too far up the beach for a wave to have done this, but what does Bobby know, he’s from a landlocked state.

“Sorry, Cap,” Buck wheezes. “Do we, uh… need the ladder?”

Bobby takes a measured inhale as he hears some kind of frantically smothered squeak sound coming from — is that Chimney? One of the paramedics, anyway — and shakes his head. “I think we can just lower the board down, if you’ll give me a hand. That sound alright to you, sir?”

The surfer gets through a few more wheezing chuckles before he can say “Yeah dude, lower away.”

They manage it pretty smoothly, with him and Buck on either side and Hen and Chim ready to catch the weight of the surfer. Hen starts off the next small round of laughter as she tries to de-tangle the swim trunks to move their vic, but everybody manages to calm down as they get to the actual medical examination.

As Hen and Chimney poke and prod, Buck chatters. “I learned to surf a few years ago, over in the Carolinas.”

“No shit?” The surfer grins. “Like Charleston? I gotta cousin over there.”

“Yeah, Folly Beach sometimes, but mostly went up to the Banks.”

“Sick.” The surfer gestures to where Hen’s wrapping some gauze around his bloodied elbow. “What’s your worst wipeout?”

Buck laughs again, a little delighted sound, always happy to be included. “Oh man- My first time out on the water, like the second wave I ever caught, just tossed me right off completely.” He tugs up his shirt before Bobby dawn shake his head not to, and twists around to show a jagged old scar on his lower back. “Landed on some rocks, needed fourteen stitches.”

The surfer whistles as Hen shakes her head. “I don’t think you’ll need any stitches for this one, but there’s enough debris in there I’m gonna recommend we take you to the hospital so they can get it all out.”

“Sure thing,” the guy says, looking more relaxed than Buck taking a nap on the couch after second helpings of mac and cheese. “Thanks man.”

“No problem,” Bobby says, definitely no trace of a chuckle in his voice no matter the delighted glances his team sends him.

The surfer tries to twist towards Buck once they get him on the gurney, winces, and then just turns his head. “You ever surf out here?”

“Have a few times, but I don't have a board or anything.”

“Man, you should come out and join us! We got a group most weekday mornings, I'm sure somebody could get you set up.”

Buck looks happy as a dog with a bone, glancing at Bobby with a mile wide grin. It's a familiar kind of look, though it takes until they're almost at the ambulance — Buck chatting away all the while — for him to place it, and it nearly makes him stumble when he does. Robert would give him that look when he made a new friend on the playground and got invited to hang out. Please, Dad, can I go? He's sure Buck didn't mean anything by it. Bobby doesn't have that authority in his life, nicknames and Springsteen concerts nothing that adds up to a tangible connection. And the kid- well, he's not a kid. 25 years old, can arrange his own playdates perfectly well. Still, Bobby feels a little off kilter as they load the ambulance.

“Rad, man, see you around.” The surfer is grinning at Buck, two happy little suns shining at each other. “Ask for Stevey,” he says, loosely pointing at himself. Steven Barney, he'd given as his name to dispatch.

Buck smiles, waves goodbye. “I'm-”

“Evan?”

Buck turns like a man in a haunted house, startled at an impossible sound with all the color draining out of him. The apparition takes the appearance of a white man a little older than Bobby, wearing neat, pale clothes and a sort of constipated, caught expression. They see that look on calls sometimes, with men who are going through an emergency with women who are not their wives and who are still trying to pretend they've done nothing at all untoward.

“D-” Buck blinks, a few times, hard. “Dad?”

Bobby can't help joining in Hen and Chin's shared oh shit look. There's not an overly familiar resemblance between the two — perhaps a shared stake in forehead real estate — but the man doesn't refute it. “I'll let you get back to work,” he says, glancing towards the sea, the ambulance, eyes landing briefly on Bobby before jumping away again, startled.

“Wait, wh-” Buck steps forward, hand wandering out in front of him before dropping back to his side. “What are you doing in LA? Did you have- a-a work trip?”

Buck's father clears his throat. “It's Brian’s birthday.”

“Oh,” Buck says, blinking again, rapidly this time, a fish thrown in new water. “He- he lives in California now?”

“No, no,” the man says dismissively, like he doesn't know why anyone on earth would choose to live in California. “He’s retiring early, wanted to make a weekend of it.”

“So-” Buck scrambles, visibly, and it makes Bobby aware of the small audience of first responders (and surfer), so he closes the ambulance door despite Hen and Chim’s wide eyes and shaking heads, and thumps the back so they pull away. Buck doesn’t seem to notice either way. “You’re- you’re here for a few days? We should- we could go get lunch? I-I have to work until tomorrow morning but-”

“It’s a busy weekend,” the man grumbles, doing a motion with his hands almost like he's patting himself down to make sure he has his wallet, the movements of someone making sure they're good to leave. “I won't have the time.”

Buck stands there, looking more wounded than any of the times he's been banged up on calls. “I- haven't seen you in- in like four years-”

“And who's fault is that?” His father laughs dismissively. “If you want to run off and throw your life away you can't complain about it later.”

“I-I didn't, I like what I- I have a job, I- I found…” Buck frowns, and Bobby worries for a moment he's going to cry out here in front of his father and colleagues and the beach goers of Santa Monica. He holds it together, though. “I like it here, and I like my job, and I'd like to tell you about it-”

“I won't have the time, Evan.” He doesn't even consider for a moment backing out of his obvious lie. “You can call next week if you want. Your mother will be glad to know you're in one piece.”

“Okay,” Buck says, shoulders sinking down and turning in. He goes from a 6’3” wall of muscle to a lost child right before Bobby’s eyes, hell of a magic trick. “Sorry,” Buck says, as Bobby does some math, works backwards a little. Fourteen stitches, definitely more recent than four years ago. He thinks about the laws of physics, or at least traffic, he’d break if he knew Robert was bleeding in an ocean somewhere in the world. “Sorry,” Buck says again — why, why should he be apologizing — and nods a few times. “I’ll- I’ll make sure to call.”

His father nods back. “We still work, so-”

“Yeah, after five, I know.”

“And your mother has book club on Tuesdays.”

“Okay.” Smaller, and smaller. Bobby remembers reading Alice in Wonderland to Brook, wonders how big Buck’s pool of tears is to shrink him so much. “I’ll just-” Buck clenches his fists, just for a moment, and then hides them in his pockets. “I’ll just try. If you’re busy you don’t have to pick up.”

Oh, God, give an inch and they’ll take a mile. Buck’s father looks visibly relieved at the offer of plausible deniability. “Alright.” He doesn’t move to hug his son, doesn’t even reach out for a handshake, staying a careful several feet away. “I’m sure you need to get back to your job,” he says, raising eyebrows in Bobby’s direction. It makes him bristle, he doesn’t want to be a forced coconspirator in judging Buck for something he hasn’t even done wrong. Buck wilts even further beside him. His father gives one final nod. “Goodbye, Evan.”

He’s already walking away by the time Buck says “Bye, Dad.”

And then they’re all just standing there. Hen and Chimney went off to the hospital, sure, but there’s still a handful of firefighters lingering around, either trying to make a lot of eye contact or no eye contact at all. Buck stares firmly at the ground. Bobby clears his throat.

“Alright, let's pack it up.” If they were operating under any other circumstance Bobby might compliment his crew for how quickly and quietly they get loaded into the trucks.

The ride back to the station is quiet, too, usual engine chit chat locked in everyone’s throats. Bobby’s pretty sure he sees Nichols subtly and somewhat frantically typing on his phone. Mostly, though, he watches Buck in the rearview. The kid is staring resolutely out the window, but Bobby would bet he’s not seeing a thing. His leg bounces on the seat, and Rodriguez doesn't even do the polite cut-it-out cough. Bobby wonders how many of Buck's stories he's overheard, if he's also now watching them tilt, shift, rearrange in his head. Dumb little boy stuff, skateboard-bike-motorcycle stunts, climbing up trees to fall out of them, all told with class clown energy, wasn't I stupid but wasn't it fun, wasn't it funny? Bobby got up to some shit when he was a kid, trailing after Charlie and taking any ill-advised dare the older kids tossed out to him, but he got hurt and he went home, his mom kissed his scrapes, even his dad would ruffle his hair and grab the first aid kit on his good days. Bobby looks at Buck looking out at nothing and tries to count the broken bones scattered between the big grins and his audience’s corresponding groans, tries to imagine Buck — all his silliness, all his sunshine — going home hurt to parents whose care comes with office hours.

When they pull into the station everyone flees the engine like there’d been a chemical spill, leaving Buck standing alone silhouetted against shiny scarlet paint. Bobby hesitates, one foot still up on the truck bed. He doesn’t want to overstep, but- he can’t stop thinking about how far away Buck’s father stood. The kid deserves someone to come closer. He only wished there was someone better than himself around to do it.

“Hey, kid-”

“I never knew what I did wrong.” Buck is frowning into middle distance, shoulders still tucked in around him. “I- I know I was stupid in- in high school, and college, but-” he looks right at Bobby, eyes wide, and he looks- oh, kid, come home. You’re hurting, come home, you’ll be taken care of, I got a first aid kid at least and I’ll learn to do better than that. “It was always like this- I-” Buck shrugs and here, finally, come the tears. “What did I do wrong?”

“Nothing,” Bobby says, and it's only two steps over to him, and he’s never even casually side hugged this kid before but Buck sinks right into his arms.

“You can’t know that-”

“I can.” Buck’s so tall. Bobby’s not sure the last time he hugged somebody taller than him. He wonders how tall his dad was, looming so large in memory but an unknown in actual imperial measurement. He wonders how tall Robert would’ve gotten. “You were a kid. You were their kid. There’s nothing you could have done that was so bad they shouldn’t have loved you anyway.”

Buck shudders against him, and his shoulder is getting wet, and the ambulance will be back soon and there’s firefighters milling about and, always, work to do.

But they can take a little time here. Bobby’ll bend it around, if he has to. The laws of traffic, the laws of physics. It startles him, scares him a little, but- he’d break them for Buck, too.

[cable-knit-sweater]

When you’re close up, give me the shivers

a moodboard by cable-knit-sweater

Pairing: Steve Rogers x Bucky Barnes

Rating: T

Wordcount: 1.4k

Tags: au - model/photographer, au - modern, photographer Steve Rogers, model Bucky Barnes, age difference, slutty Bucky, flustered Steve

Written for: @stuckybingo | card: R4005 | Square: N5 - AU: Model/Photographer

A.N: This was gonna be a different fic. Then it was going to be a short blurb. Then it turned into a ficlet. I blame @late-to-the-party-81 😂💖

Summary:

Steve’s been a professional photographer for over a decade. His work has been featured in countless magazines, on billboards, in fashion articles and photography books. He’s shot some of the most beautiful, most interesting, most powerful people in the world. He’s won numerous awards, is sought after by so many for his work. It means his schedule is fully booked, like, always. It also means he earns enough money to afford a gorgeous loft apartment that can easily double as a studio when he wants to.

Steve’s mostly unfazed by the supposed glamor of his job or the world he inhabits. He can see how some of the models he’s photographed represent some sort of beauty ideal, even if he doesn’t necessarily always agree. He’s not actually always a fan of the circles he works in — because of the beauty ideals, but also because there’s some sort of toxicity in it sometimes, one he tries to avoid. It’s made him somewhat of a recluse, at times, which in turn has caused people to speculate a lot about him — and his personal life.

For some reason, there’s this assumption that he probably has hooked up with some of his models. Sure, he’s found some of his models attractive, but he’s never pursued anything. He’s aware of how he himself looks and he’s had models make a pass at him, or ask him to go out on a date after they finished shooting, but he’s always declined. Steve doesn’t mix business with pleasure. He’s seen how that goes. It’s a rule he put in place for himself long ago and it’s worked out fine.

He’s going to have to break that rule.

When the model he was supposed to shoot doesn’t show up…he’s annoyed, to put it mildly. It’s happened before. Most models are - even if they’re demanding sometimes - conscientious of his time. He doesn’t want to sound like an asshole, but standing him up like this is rude, and his time is valuable.

He calls the agency — and they apologize, telling him the model will be there in 15 minutes, almost half an hour after they should have started. Steve sighs. He can make it work, but they’ll lose some of the light. He’s frustrated for sure, but all he can do is wait.

When the model does show up… At first Steve is grateful for being patient for once, because the model is gorgeous. Then he curses everything in existence including himself because the model is gorgeous, and he’s not sure he’s going to be able to keep it together.

It’s not even the soft looking - albeit slightly messy - curly brown hair, or the gorgeous grey-blue of his eyes, or the dimple in his chin. It’s red bitten lips, the look in his half-lidded eyes that makes him look like pure sex, a jawline that could cut glass. He’s wearing a leather jacket over a black t-shirt, impossibly tight black jeans. Steve forgets to breathe for a moment, looking at the guy a little dumbly.

Those red lips curl into a slightly wicked smirk, like the guy knows exactly what kind of effect he has on people. On Steve.

“Sorry I’m late,” the guy says, looking up at Steve from below his eyelashes, with big blue eyes that have Steve entranced. “My cat locked me out of my apartment.”

It’s the dumbest reason, the dumbest lie, Steve has ever heard. No one in their right mind would believe that. “Th-that’s okay, no worries at all!” he stammers out. “It happens?”

What the fuck. Who is he?

The guy giggles a little. It’s a great sound. Steve wants to roll around in it. 

“I’m Bucky,” he says, “it’s an honor to get to work with you.” 

“I-uhm, I’m- me too, I mean, I’m Steve.” 

Steve needs to get himself together. Not in the least because Bucky bites his lower lip to stop from laughing, undoubtedly about how much of an idiot Steve is. It’s the worst thing he’s ever seen. He wants to pull that lip from between Bucky’s teeth. With his own. 

But Steve’s a professional.

So much of a professional he’s completely forgotten what the assignment for this shoot is by the time Bucky has gotten ready. 

This isn’t showing off clothes, or a formal portrait. Bucky is an actor – Steve will need to look up his work after this – and this shoot is for some sort of magazine article. They want Bucky to capitalize on the image he’s made for himself through some of the TV shows he’s been in and…

Steve remembers laughing when he’d first seen the note. “Ideally, a sorta messy twink look,” it actually says. That’s…that’s the idea they’re supposed to be going for here. He’s definitely not laughing anymore. He also definitely needs to watch more TV.  

It doesn’t start off too smoothly. At first, Steve is too tense to actually focus on Bucky enough for the photos to come out well. Then later, when Bucky “has an idea” – which apparently involves taking off everything but his jeans – it doesn’t go so smoothly because Steve’s heart goes into overdrive and his skin feels completely on fire.

He doesn’t usually get this flustered. But everything about Bucky just seems to make him lose a little bit of higher brain function.

The way the dog tags he’s wearing nestle between sparse chest hair covering toned pecs.

The way his hair gets even messier the more he runs long, elegant fingers through it.

The way he continues to bite his lips until they look positively indecent.

The way he touches Steve’s arms, telling him to relax, making Steve shiver instead.

The way he looks at Steve with a gaze so heated that it feels like it burns into Steve’s skin.

The way he says “where do you want me, Steve?” in a voice laced with so much innuendo…

Steve is only so strong. He’s barely hanging on. 

They do a couple of shots near the window, while there’s still enough light. The camera loves Bucky and it should be easy, but it really isn’t, given all the distractions.

They do a couple of shots with Bucky laying on Steve’s bed – Bucky’s idea, again. It almost makes Steve’s heart give out, makes his fingers itch to touch. He wants to scream. He’s a professional.

Bucky keeps making it worse with the looks he gives the camera - he gives Steve. He’s being a tease, Steve’s pretty sure of that by now, but he decides to stick to his rule. He’s never broken it before. He’s not gonna break it now, as much as he almost aches to give in. 

It’s not until they do some shots in the bathroom, that Steve’s resolve crumbles. Bucky has put on his tank top again. With the water pouring down on him, the fabric clings to his body. But it’s the way he looks up from underneath his wet lashes, with his mouth half open and his lips so red, looking like, like…

Bucky knows exactly what he looks like and he knows Steve knows it too. 

Then Bucky says, a smirk on his face, eyes knowing: “You wanna join me? Maybe a cold shower would be nice?” 

And Steve gives in. He cannot take it anymore. Bucky has completely broken him down.

He puts down his camera as calmly as possible – when he’s feeling so far from fucking calm – then breathes in, gives Bucky one more look, then takes a couple of quick steps towards him, crowding Bucky against the shower wall and pushing up against him. He barely spares a moment to look into Bucky’s eyes, to see if this is what he wants – whether he wasn’t just trying to rile Steve up without wanting to follow through on anything – before claiming his mouth with his own. 

Bucky kisses back eagerly, pressing up against Steve even more. Steve can’t bring himself to care about completely ruining his clothes. He finally gets to take Bucky’s lower lip between his teeth. He pulls on it a little in admonishment, growling: “Wanted to do that all fucking day.”

“Thought I was gonna have to spell it out for you,” Bucky chuckles a little breathily, “F-u-c-k m-“ 

Steve cuts him off by claiming his mouth again in a heated kiss, hands traveling down to unbutton Bucky’s jeans. 

Bucky ends up on his knees in the shower. His lips end up an even more indecent shade of red. 

And Steve ends up breaking his rule. Maybe some other things in his apartment too, in their rush to get to Steve’s bedroom later on. Who knows.

So what. Sometimes, rules are meant to be broken.

Faced with Bucky Barnes, Steve really never had any other choice.

[luvzxr]

Innocence

nsfw (18+) mdni please. I think I'd actually cry.

Not 100% sure where this fic is gonna be taken as I'm the type of go with the flow writer. This may contain heavy subjects such as; depression, alcohol and alcohol abuse, slight age gap? (by a few years in my head. Not much.) possible smut. Possible mentions of gore but I probably won't go heavy on that. If I do I'll put a bigger warning in the future on the chapters that are heavy with them!

Hello! I figured I'd start on a series because I personally love longer series and the anticipation of waiting for wonderful writers to bring out new parts just hits different. I will personally be using an OC that goes by the name Sophie Hayes but going along with this fic it will be Sophie Redfield :). You are more than welcome to use your own name or a personal oc name however! I prefer to use names rather y/n or you/your! I've loved the name Sophie after reading a fanfic years ago on Wattpad and I fell in love instantly with the name so we'll be using my Sophie girl as the main character but like I said, you are more than welcome to use your own name or a personal oc name to fill that in for yourself!

ahem. Anywayss.

Description: The youngest and most innocent member of the redfield siblings finds herself falling for a the broken and not so innocent blonde agent whose been a well known long term friend with her two older siblings.

Word count: 2,294

Bang, bang, bang.

The entirety of my body jolting at every kickback that was shot from the firearms my current older brother, Chris, was using for his daily target practice. I couldn't help the wincing and jolts; I shouldn't be here.

I couldn't express to you how many times I tried to tug on the man's sleeve, shirt or even gentle taps to his shoulder to ask him when we were leaving but I barely got a direct answer from the him at all.

"Chris," I tugged on the shoulder strap of his bullet proof vest. I was beginning to feel more agitated by every passing second we stayed inside the echoing room that smelled nothing of gun powder. "My ears are starting to hurt from the noise. When can we go?"

"Throw these on Soph. They should help with the noise," he placed a pair of noise reduction headphones over my ears and the gave a few pats to my head before his attention was directed back to his previous target practice shenanigans.

But even with headphones my ears felt like they were throbbing against the muffled fabric, the thudding of my own heartbeat was getting overwhelming and even a teensy bit aggravating.

Stepping back to my previous seating with a sigh, knowing we'd probably be here for another hour or two, hell even three before he decides to even take it upon himself to rest and I felt like I was only losing a consistent battle with him.

The thing about Chris is he was the most stubborn sibling out of Him, Claire and I. He didn't budge half the time and even went on to say 'it wouldn't hurt for me to teach you a few things yknow.' And he wasn't entirely wrong but I hated everything that had to do with weaponry and violence, it made me feel queasy and left an unsettling feeling at the pit of my stomach just having my frail hands wrapped around the grip of a singular handgun.

The thing about me, however is if I push his buttons hard enough— guilt him. He might actually budge just a little bit and it grew to be a personal trick up the sleeve that both Claire and I used against him when we wanted something and he wasn't caving. Often times it worked more with me than with her so she always had me do the dirty work in that aspect.

However, I chose not to this time around. I chose to leave the heap of stubborn known as my brother alone because I knew in his eyes this was some sort of stress relief. It was serotonin regardless of how violent and unnerving I found it myself because to him this was what heaven looked like, served to him on a silver platter.

Here, he didn't have to worry about his life being on the line or other lives grasped in the palm of his hands. He didn't have to look the poor individuals in the eye as the light faded from them and leave yet another feeling of emptiness in his heart.

I winced at the mere thought itself.

I didn't have it in me to take that away from him. Not now.

Instead I sat like the good little sister I was and chose to endure the consistent bang after bang, each shot hitting somewhere between the head and shoulders of the practice dummies out in the range.

Running a hand through my hair, I sit with my arms folded over my chest, bouncing my left leg in anticipation and eagerness just to get out of this situation. I needed something to do besides stare off into the abyss because I couldn't even manage that, the sound of the reload and kick back of the trigger was the only thing my mind could focus on.

I allowed my cheeks to puff out. I should of stayed at home. I could be curled up in my comfy two set of pink Bugs Bunny sleep attire with some stupid film set on the television right now with some stupid microwaveable meal set perfectly on my lap. Hell, even popcorn would do. Anything was better than this. Doesn't sound like an appealing activity to spend your Friday Night, but anything was better than where I currently was.

You'd think that any 29 year old man would be at a bar checking out some girls that wore too little of clothing or just enough to hide what any man would be drowning in their own set of lust just thinking about it. That's an average thought for a man, right? That was fun to them especially if they were single. Instead, Chris was found here almost every day at the butt crack of dawn with no other excuse other than 'I need to practice my aim.' Though even I could read right through that lie.

I guess I shouldn't be judging the guy, it might come back to bite me in the ass because every morning for myself was the same thing just like him.

Wake up, quickly brush through my set of pearly whites and then rush down to the living room TV where my two other siblings would find me sitting until noon on most days watching the old cartoon channel where Bugs and the little annoying RoadRunner bird were to be found.

I realize I am 25 years old and that was probably a child like way to spend my mornings but I didn't necessarily care. It has been my morning routine since I was a little kid and it wasn't about to change just because people looked to me as if I was too old to be doing that.

I snapped out of my momentary thoughts of the night I could be having if I didn't allow Chris to drag me from my spot on the couch. The singular door to the range slide open, snapping my head to catch a glimpse of the figure emerging, he was hard not to notice.

"Chris,"

My brother took notice immediately, slipping his own set of headphone off to rest around his neck. His pistol being set to safety before resting it on the small counter in front of him, "Leon."

Leon had been a old friend of both Claire and Chris over the years, Claire being the first to of met the blonde years back in Raccoon City when all hell broke lose. He picked her up at a gas station that was swarmed with nothing but the undead, helped her through the mess even while separated and then the rest was history. In more ways than one I was thankful for him.

We weren't close like he was with my siblings. I knew little to nothing about his personal life and I suppose that was reciprocated when it came to him— he knew nothing about me other than I was the youngest out of the Redfield siblings.

I'd see him around the house every once in a while and usually the only interactions we ever made were small head nods or a wave of some kind but it was never a conversation. Maybe, if I was lucky— I'd get a 'Hey Soph.' But that even was a bit rare to hear from him. We kept to our own and I suppose that had something to do with the age difference and how I didn't work under D.S.O or even in the line of work that Claire took on. I worked at a little Café on the corner not far from where Claire, Chris and I all lived. A nine to five average job.

I was hardly ever in the loop with the three of them unless Absolutely necessary. Sometimes it irritated me and other times I was thankful for it.

"I'm gonna be heading out for the night but," I watched as the duffle bag that was hanging from his left shoulder was slightly moved to the front of him, rummaging through and pulled out what seemed to be a case file, "Director Winston wanted you to take a look at this. Our next case I suppose."

Chris had taken the flimsy case file into his grasp, giving Leon an appreciative head nod, "Sure. I'll take a look when I head home."

Yeah right. Like we would be leaving anytime soon.

I wrapped my arms over the top of the chair, my upper torso turned to face in their direction and I rested my chin down on my forearm all while my eyes fluttered shut. Sleep had really started to take a toll on my mind and body as of recently and as of now, I suppose it was showing quite a bit now.

I was still currently in College and as much as I loved my current job because of the customers and the environment in general was always something I looked forward to, It wasn't something I planned to do for the rest of my life. I somewhat had a plan for my future-- Something both Claire and Chris pounded into my head until it eventually stuck. They'd constantly lecture me on how I just needed to find something I loved to do, something I'd enjoy and wouldn't look at it like a job but rather a hobby but It wasn't like I needed much convincing from either of them.

I watched both of my siblings fight off all the bioterrorists and B.O.W.'s for years. I watched each of them fall apart and be forced to pick those pieces up on their own, one by one. I was a first hand witness to see how the innocence and light they once held in their eyes had faded away until it was nothing more than an old shell of who they use to be, drowning in the darkest parts of them would then you find maybe a small glimpse of their happy nature they once held.

In some sort of way, I understood their need for me to go to college, to have at least one of us find normalcy because deep down I suppose they knew I'd fall into that same work unless they drilled into my head where I needed to be.

It wasn't so bad, the only complaint I ever had was the bags under my eyes that I could only imagine were big enough to carry groceries if I wanted them to. And not the flimsy, small bags of dairy or maybe those small boxes of chex mix you'd snag from the shelves. No, I'm talking about the gallon of milk they'd have to double bag. The twenty four pack of soda you'd struggle to haul in through the front door. Hell, even the cases of water. I could carry all of it under the honey pools of my face.

I must of found my way into a short slumber because the last thing I remembered was faintly hearing both Leon and Chris murmuring amongst themselves over that file. Now, here I was with a few taps to my shoulder and both men looking down at me with what seemed to be amusement in both of their eyes.

"Cmon Sophie. Leon offered to take you home."

Oh thank god.

It was like heaven hitting my ears in nothing but pure bliss with the mere though of my aching back hitting the plush of that mattress waiting for me at home. I was practically jumping for joy on the inside, bouncing off every wall inside my head.

I rubbed the tired from my eyes with my palms, groggily speaking, "oh okay," a soft yawn escaping through all while I pushed and forced myself up from rather uncomfortable hunk of mental I had been sitting in for the past six hours now.

Hearing a chuckle from both men at me turning my gaze towards them but I couldn't find it in me to give a gentle glare or even a playful scowl because I was far too tired to do such a thing.

Both Leon and I begun heading out towards the door, my legs having a mind of their own to drag me around for the short period they needed to. I heard Chris call out to us which earned him a rather irritable groan from me that I though was only amongst myself but ended up being a little louder than intended.

"Make sure she gets through the door," he was in the process of placing those god awful set of headphones back over his ears.

"Will do," I heard Leon call back, giving a lazy thumbs up. He was trying to leave as soon as possible and I knew that. Chris however, was not and I could tell he was treating it like I was being babysat inside of just a drop off to the house.

"Key is in the small flower pot to the left of the door,"

"Got it,”

"Oh! also Soph, don't stay up too late. You got classes tomorrow. I better not see you up late or I-"

I finally had enough, finishing his sentence for him, "Kick my ass. Yes, I know. Can we go now?" I huffed, motioning towards the door with almost a whiney tone to my voice but I couldn't care less right now.

He let out a husky laugh, although I didn't find it very funny he was taking up more of my time I could be using to get a decent eight hours of sleep. But with a wave of his hand I was practically pushing Leon with my palms to get moving before he started talking all over again like he was a babysitter of some sort and giving Leon a run down on how to handle me as if I needed yet another person worrying about me in my corner.

[the-brothers]

One Year

You stood in the kitchen with your arm resting in a sling while Sabo stood on a footstool next to you in front of the coffee maker. His emerald gaze focused on the stream of liquid as the old machine groaned and sputtered. 

"It doesn't smell very good." he commented, "how do you drink that stuff?" 

"I add things to it." you answered pulling a canister of cocoa from the cupboard in front of you. 

"You get to have hot chocolate in the morning?" his little brows raised under his shaggy bangs.

"Yeah," you shrugged dumping a couple of spoonfuls into the mugs on the counter, "Wanna try some? Or do you just want plain cocoa?"

His face scrunched in thought for a moment, "Plain cocoa… but can I have a drink of yours?" 

You chuckled to yourself, a year ago a scene like this didn't even seem possible.

"Of course, Blondie." 

"When did you start drinking coffee?"

You hummed recalling the exact day, "I was about your age actually." 

________________

Marco stood next to you looking at fancy prepared cups of what looked like chocolate that lined the catering table. Some had whipped cream on top, some didn't. A sweet but also strong scent hung in the air. The tall cups were pushed back just out of your reach. 

"What do you think they are-yoi?" the blonde asked taking a quick assessment of the room. 

This was your second year to be shuffled off to this annual charity event set up by the orphanage. There was a silent auction of arts and crafts made by the children. Donations were encouraged of course but most importantly it served as almost a meet and greet of potential adaptors and adoptees. You really didn't understand why you were there but you were happy to keep hold of the back of Marco's shirt as you explored the new surroundings. 

"Chocolate milk?" you guessed, rising on your tiptoes and reaching for one that had cream and chocolate drizzle on top.

"Those aren't for you." one of the social workers scolded shooing your hand away. 

You muttered an apology as you shifted behind Marco.

"Why're we even here?" he grumbled back taking a more protective stance. 

"To hopefully find some parents." she turned to tidy the table up muttering something about how he'd be lucky. 

You sighed clutching onto his shirt. Your experience with adults was still a bit traumatic. Though you had been away from the physical abuse for a while, no adult had given you any reason to trust them. 

Marco rolled his eyes diverting his attention away from the staff member back to you, "Sorry, F/N," he held your shaky shoulders and whispered, "we'll get some. Don't worry." 

Soon the venue was crowded with people. All of the children had been given name tags and were kept in a supervised room while prospective adopters milled about. While the monitor was distracted with a rich couple Marco grabbed your wrist and dragged you back to the catering room. 

"Sit under here-yoi." he ordered pulling the almost floor-length white table cloth up. 

You did as he ordered and waited until a moment or two later he crawled under holding one of the mystery cups. He stabbed a straw through the hole in the domed lid and handed the cold cup over to you. 

You looked at him wide eyed, "We're gonna get in trouble." 

"Who cares? What're they gonna do in front of all these rich people anyway?" 

Your curiosity outweighed your desire to stay out of trouble so you dared to take the first drink. It was chocolate - so sweet and creamy with just the right amount of bitter. With a soft hum you closed your eyes and took another sip. It wasn't often that you got to have any sort of treat, especially chocolate. 

Marco chuckled, "Damn F/N, save some for me."

"It's so good." you handed the cup off to your brother. 

It was the blonde's turn to hum with delight, "It's coffee-yoi." 

"Coffee? Grown ups keep all the good stuff for themselves." you grumbled taking another sip as Marco offered it.

"They like to make stuff fancy. It doesn't always taste like this." 

"No?"

"Yeah, lots of them like it plain which is really bitter-yoi." he chuckled, "You'd hate it."

For a few minutes you sat quietly passing the cup back and forth before Marco peeked out from under the table cloth. 

"Ya want a snack?" he asked, turning back to you as you nodded. 

He slipped out just before you heard some adults enter. 

"Marco!?" the voice of one of your chaperones called as your brother grunted and cursed, "What are you doing in here?" 

"I dunno-yoi." he grumbled. 

"Where's F/N? She's never far behind."

You sat tensed under the table nearby holding your breath. 

"Dunno." he huffed. 

"I'm so sorry, I need to deal with him. I'll be right back."

"No worries." a terrifyingly deep voice rumbled back. 

You could hear your brother arguing to be let go as she shuffled out of the room with him. When it got quiet you decided to take a look. If the coast was clear you were going to make a run for it. 

"Oh, hello." you hadn't expected the man with the deep voice to be standing right in front of you. 

"F/N, there you are." the relief on the chaperone's face vanished as she saw the cup in your hands, "Where did you get that?" 

"I gave it to her," the huge blonde man interrupted looking down at you, "Isn't that right, lass?" 

You nodded sheepishly.

"I didn't realize they weren't allowed to." he continued as she reached for you. 

"Oh, no, it's fine don't worry about it, Mr. Newgate."

______________

"Wait, so that's how you met Pops?" Sabo asked, sitting carefully with his cocoa in front of him. 

"Yup, didn't see him again until he adopted us. So I guess he sort of got to see Marco too." you chuckled sitting next to him. 

"Can I try your coffee now?"

You pushed your cup toward your little brother, "Knock yourself out." 

He took a huge swig and immediately let it dribble down his chin into his lap making you cackle.  

"Uck! F/N, tha's disgus'ing!"

[chromotps]

h-hey so. I saw your tweet? from such a long time ago (eh no I think it was october) that was about cora/law and something something basically law being soooo much into cora and sick of waiting in general (can I also mention here. the 1975 - fallingforyou and especially the /you said some day we might, when i’m closer to your height/ line) so uhhhhh what about. a cora lives AU when they reunite once law becomes a warlord (also don’t tell me the 100 hearts weren’t meant for cora) and cora has been somehow found and brought back to life by the marines??? but kept hidden from public information for as long as doflamingo was running loose and rampant. but after dressrosa it’s no longer important and anyway they meet again and it’s all. reserved and polite and cora is just happy to see law all grown up and how much influence and power he has etc etc meanwhile law. keeps inviting him to the most high-end/expensive restaurants. buys him the most expensive wine. gets him heart-themed jewelry. the finest silk shirts/scarves. some rare types of tobacco. basically like a reverse sugar daddy thing except it’s law who absolutely spoils cora except cora doesn’t really have any idea what to do with it? bc law just says it’s bc cora took care of him all these years ago and now law wants to reciprocate. except he’s. way too invested in this/there’s something else in his eyes when he looks at cora, instead of just gratitude. IDK IM JUST. they’re such a weird ship to me bc i can’t stomach it at all in any other form than Cora lives AU and they meet as adults + the age diff/dynamic remains kinds the same (master/protegee? sorta) + law is just so fucking into him it’s unreal. bc hes spent so much time thinking about Cora? growing up? much longer than he had actually known him. so he kind of became something mystical in his mind, so when he finally meets him in flesh again? law can’t really deal with whatever he’s feeling toward him except it’s a whole fucking lot. again idk even what I wanted to say through this it’s just back to that tweet - yes I also think it’s a shame there isn’t more coralaw where law is the one leading the relationship/courting cora (or. domming him. like you said) and generally being lowkey obsessed about him. thanks lmfao and bye

HJGSFGSDjgdfshj first off this ask made my day... is there anything like the internet to bring together two fans of a very niche and specific dynamic ANYWAY

GOSH I do love the idea of Law spoiling Cora, especially bc like, from what we saw Cora went from a life of luxury in his youth, to one of struggle and then eventually medium-ish comfort, and was happy to throw it all away again for Law when they went on the run. So it's like, now Law can give that all back to Cora easily and I'd even sort of read it a bit as Law subconsciously trying to show how he's not just some little kid anymore so let him sleep with you Corazon, look, you think a guy who gives you this many silk shirts doesn't know how to show you a good time

Cora getting a little overwhelmed when the gifts and meals start being sprinkled with signs of courting... like, a brush of a hand or Law bringing them somewhere secluded on a walk and carefully getting into Cora's space. Asking Cora to be his +1 to big fancy dinners and escorting him around with a hand on his back ahahaHA

Cora can't deny that Law is just like, a dream guy, but he's gonna need a little extra push to let go of that sense of propriety saying that "they really shouldn't do this"

I tried responding to some other parts of the ask but it got really long and sort of turned into me just rambling about lawcora, so... i separated it all from here 😂

GOSH the 100 hearts being for Cora... another hopelessly romantic tribute from Law, the most Extra Adult-ass Emo walking around. It's exactly like you said, that's one of my favorite things about Law around Cora--the depth of his emotion... we know Law had this deep capacity for hatred when they first met—he was just this well of resentment and anger, even as a kid. But after seeing just how far Cora would go for him, that intensity got completely redirected into love (or "low-key obsession" haha—the naming his pirate crew after Cora and modeling his coat and tattoos after him). It's especially wild considering how "reserved" Law is around others, I guess? Like, he wants everyone around him to Stop Being So Ridiculous, but I feel like with Cora he would just want more and more, to draw out bigger and bigger reactions from him and encourage Cora to screw convention and run off with him. bc in his head they're all that really matter...? he's an all-or-nothing kind of guy!! I guess

And yeeeeah on Cora's side, it's definitely a difficult ship to pin down. I'm kind of like you, really picky about how I'd want it to play out... Part of me doesn't want Cora to be completely oblivious, and I don't love when people strip out how much of a badass/tough/discerning guy he is (though I do love the klutzy, naive-ish side of him). I don't know......... I think I like how I laid it out in the tweet, where Law has always sort of harbored feelings for Cora in the form of puppy love that transformed into an all-consuming fixation. Then it's just a matter of Cora finding out about it, denying those feelings (but the reason changes from "I couldn't see Law that way!!" to "he couldn't really feel that way about me/he could find someone more 'his equal' (in age? status? what excuses are you making Cora??)" over time. And at that point, when Law knows Cora wants him just as bad but is holding back from it, he just snaps. 😂

If they really did have just one long separation, and then a sudden reunion, I like the idea of Law re-learning who Cora really is... Like, he has faded memories of Cora's bravery and goofiness and weird little habits, but he wasn't prepared to meet him again and only end up liking him MORE. He learns about what Cora went through as a kid/in Doffy's shadow, and seeing how he still stayed so kind and brave just makes Law wilder than ever about him lmao!!

[cranialjam]

finally finished a flash fiction for a writing meetup i'm going to.

i actually tried to draft it out sort of, using inspiration from an interesting writing prompt.

took forever to figure out an ending so i just cut out what i had and made due with the remains, what're ya gonna do?

i also had a lot of fun wracking my brain by trying to write in present tense; still getting used to it but it was pretty fun actually, highly recommend it.

not perfect, but sometimes you just gotta finish it. might be good kindling for a future story idea, who knows.

PROMPT [REDDIT]: "A drug is discovered that stops all effects of aging. You decide to not take it. 20 years pass and the side effects are discovered."

WARTS AND ALL

As the light from my eyes slowly fades and the world around me becomes creepingly impressionistic, I can feel the frightened pinpricks of my family's eyes on my descending body. My heart beats slower and slower until its penultimate halt. Was this really it? I think to myself. This isn't how I planned. This isn't how it was supposed to go.

In some vain, thinly-veiled attempt to look back at my achievements, my dying brain decides to give me a rolling projection of what led me here like a neuron-powered zoetrope.

I see myself as I was 20 years ago; that lanky, wiry Jewish kid from Long Island with more metal on his ears and nose than would ever touch his pockets. My long, mop-top of curly hair flows in the breeze of the East River, my eyes curl up in the warmth of my eyelids to avoid the beaming sun, my unwashed shirt and shorts are drenched in the sweat of a hard day of doing absolutely nothing productive.

My life is perfect. I go to class, I relax with my friends, I enjoy the countless advantages of strong bones and a flexible back. I work short, near meaningless hours at a hot dog stand and get paid nickels and dimes to do the bare minimum. Days and days, my friends and I go out and ride our boards across the entire Island from Williamsburg in the west to Massapequa in the east. My reward at the end is a heartfelt meal with my parents, my sisters, and our dog, Cissy; the taste of homemade matzo and pastrami on rye lingers in my mouth and pours into my soul. Rinse and repeat for months on end. Never boring, never waning. I never want anything to change.

This is the same time Perpetua makes 'The Cure' public to all. The billionaires have the first course, the millionaires get their crumbs, and the rest of us are served the whiff, the taste. I want it. I don't care who I step on to get it. I don't care how much it costs, how exorbitant the monthly fees would be, nothing will stop me. I finally have the chance to put time in a bottle. Why should I change what may be the best point of my life?

The process starts slowly. I'm walking into the clinic, shaking myself awake with the smell of high-powered disinfectant, greet the friendly receptionist in her vaguely-stained scrubs, and stand in line behind tens, near hundreds, of future immortals. People of all walks of life; teens like me with baggy clothes, disheveled fathers comb the last remnant of what they still call a hairline, and youthful women who hope to keep the peak of their beauty like a timeless polaroid.

Step by step, inch by inch, moving with the sway of the serpentine until, almost unconsciously, I got called up and strapped in. The nurses firmly wrap my hands and feet into a vertical stretcher, their eyes bounce between their screens and my extremities like a championship tennis match.

The doctor, a wild-haired grad student pouring inhuman amounts of sweat, came in and gave me firm look over before asking a barrage of questions; "you smoke?" "You drink?" "Sex history?" Before my brain can even form a sense of regret, he checks my arms for any signs of track marks and rushes out to another room.

The nurse plunges the vial of solution and penetrates my supple skin. My body is stiff for a moment but soon the tremors start. My arms and legs begin to throb and vibrate faster and faster. The straps just barely keep them bound. My mouth tastes like iron. My skin is burning up. After a few seconds, my body cools down and I feel physically drained. Another nurse passes by and gives me a shot of water to rinse out my mouth before she unstraps me.

"Here's your bill," the receptionist says, "don’t drink. Don’t smoke. For the love of God, don’t have sex for at least a week or you’ll leak bile from your ear canal. Have a nice day."

I hold onto my poorly-formatted receipt with the same conviction as a preacher. I feel so alive and revitalized. It's the start of something new. It's the first day of the rest of my life.

From that day on, life feels infinitely more freeing. I drop out of school, I move out of Long Island on my vendor's salary, and I travel the world. From Milan to Minsk, from Sicily to Sri Lanka, from Tokyo to Tucson. I work part-time at different jobs to pay for more adventures. I find various lovers; musicians, dancers, models, anyone willing to feel the warmth of youth they've once forgotten.

I'm not the only one either; it becomes very 'in' for other immortals to do much the same. The economy of every country booms significantly with the forever children on the go. The whole world feels the pull and can't ignore us any longer. Not only is there an economic boom, but also a rapidly developing 'children of immortals' boom. Slowly, however, the impact wanes. What goes up, must come down.

After twenty years, immortals are facing the biological effects of the injection. The first case is discovered just a few months ago; an immortal in Canada wakes up to loose skin across their body, their bed fluffed with newly-lost hair, and their bones becoming as brittle as dead tree branches. One moment, you're having the time of your life, the next you're in a coffin with the skin and bones of a 120 year old.

Additionally, countries who thrived off the income of immortals are now left in the dust, paying eternal mortgage on housing and entertainment departments made for the first lineup years ago. Children of Immortals sue their parents by the thousands for their rampant, uncaring past actions. Children, now adults, who've never even known their parents are now feeling the shock of seeing someone who stands at the same age as them, having to give them the 'love' and 'respect' they give to their up bringers.

Twenty years on, and I feel the pinch as well. My past affairs catch up to me like a pack of wolves. I've sired tens of hundreds children across the world. I've accrued enough debt to drown third world nations. Worst of all, my luscious locks are losing their luster, dying like wilting flowers in the chill of incoming winter. My time is running out and at any moment my heart and brain can take me kicking and screaming 6-feet under. Do I make right what I've done wrong? Or do I keep going until the end?

[theriverspath]

Crowley's first gig with Luci's band! On the way there, one of her new band mates offers up his makeup skills and some helpful advice. Oh, and Crowley has an important realization about apples and butterflies. Prompt: Crowley's snake

Rated Teen. CW: closeted trans teen, dysphoria, grief

"How old are you?" Crowley looked over at her brother in confusion. They were loading the black cases that housed the band’s gear into the back of an old three-row family van. Tonight was her first gig, and her hands shook with nerves.

"Um, sixteen?" She ventured an answer. Had her brother really forgotten her age?

"Nope. You wanna know why?" Crowley narrowed her eyes, then gave a noncommittal shrug. Luci was up to something, but she wasn't sure what it was yet.

"Well." Luci hefted a guitar case onto an empty spot of carpet behind the van’s second row of seats. The third row had been removed months ago, when the band had started using it for transport. Once it was settled, his left hand dipped behind him and dug a folded leather wallet out of a back pocket. "If you're sixteen, what would that make me?"

"Nineteen. I guess." Crowley knew exactly how old her brother was. She’d been celebrating his birthday her whole life, hadn’t she? Luci handed the wallet over. Crowley took it and, with what felt like a sickening shock of electricity in her gut, realized that it was their dad’s. When had her brother switched to carrying this? How had he even gotten a hold of it? Her thoughts spun as she stared down at the palm-sized object.

“Wrong again. What does my license say?” Crowley flipped the wallet open. There was Luci’s driver’s license framed inside the clear plastic window that took up the left half of the interior. The little photo of her brother looked back up at her from where her dad’s image had been for as long as she could remember. It was hard to make out the numbers in the fading evening light, but she could just read his birthday. 

“Twenty one?” Crowley looked back. “Where’d you get this?” Grinning, Luci reached out and took the wallet from her. 

“Don’t you worry about that.” He slipped a fingertip behind his license and pulled up. Two more little plastic cards slid out from beneath it. He pushed one back, but not before Crowley caught sight of her father’s face. Luci handed the other to her. “This one’s yours. If anyone asks you for ID at the bar, show them this.” Someone had taken one of her most recent school photos and replaced the background with the same blue that Luci and her dad’s license featured.

Crowley remembered that picture day. She’d hated the white polo shirt her mother had insisted she wear. It had made her look like a prep, and had felt like some sort of weird costume. But her mom had found it at a yard sale, and had beamed with pride when she showed Crowley the little gator logo on the front. “Can you imagine? A Lacoste for two bucks! All it needs is to have this little bit on the hem sewn back up, and you’ll look just like one of those boys over at Trinity Heart.” Crowley winced at the memory of being compared to the guys who attended the nearby private school, and then immediately felt guilty.

“You can’t buy a beer with it, but at least the owner won’t make you wait in the back room when you’re not on stage.” Luci’s voice brought her back to the present. Her eyes focused on the neatly printed letters and numbers displaying her information. She skimmed past the single letter M, and found her birth date. It was two years before her actual one. According to this, she was eighteen: not old enough to drink, but old enough to be in a bar without getting hassled for it.

“You gonna drive us to the gig now that you’re all legal? I mean, sort of.” Crowley jumped at the question coming from inside the van. She’d been so focused on the license that she hadn’t noticed when Eric had climbed in the side door and settled into the bench-style middle seat. His brother leaned in through the open sliding door and handed him what looked like a fishing tackle box. He gave Eric a look that clearly communicated his opinion about his brother’s lack of any sort of sense.

“Hell no, he’s not driving my van -”

“Our van,” Eric interrupted. When Crowley had first met the two band members, she hadn’t been able to tell the identical twins apart. The fact that their mother had named them Eric and Erick hadn’t helped, either. But after a few months of them hanging around the house for practice, she now knew the individual mannerisms or tones of voice that distinguished one from the other. 

“Our van,” Erick rolled his eyes at his brother. They were painted with bold, black liner. Thin triangles of the makeup radiated down from the bottom lid, almost like spiky lashes. It was a dramatic look, and one that he shared with his twin. They’d also both shaped their hair into two short points on top, mimicking devil horns. “Especially not all the way to New Orleans.” He said the city name in three syllables: new-OAR-lens. “And we’re never gonna get there if we don’t leave.” He walked around the vehicle and hopped up into the driver’s seat. Luci made a face at the impatient guitarist’s back, then closed the van’s back doors. He joined Erick in the front. This left Crowley to share the middle bench with Eric.

Crowley slipped the fake ID into the pocket of her black jeans. It nestled next to her tube of lip balm and the bit of cash Luci had given her for the night. She’d have to get a wallet for herself soon. As she slid the side van door closed, she thought about the little clutch purse her mother used to carry on special occasions.

Erick started the engine and pulled away from Luci and Crowley’s house. He and Luci argued about the best way to get to the main highway as the van threaded its way through small residential streets. Eventually, they were on the long bridge that stretched across a huge lake. Pools of light rose and fell as they passed under the streetlights that lined the causeway. The van gently rocked as the wheels drove a cluh-clunk-cluh-clunk rhythm over the connected sections of concrete road. It might have lulled Crowley to sleep if it hadn’t been for the Metallica blaring from the front speakers. Hetfield growled a song about shifting his shape~, and Crowley nodded along as she stared out the window into the outstretched darkness.

Without really deciding to, Crowley let her thoughts drift to yesterday in the garden: the way Aziraphale had said her name when he saw her, the confession to giving Evie his report, the stumbling apology. How he looked when he took that bite from her apple. She felt her cheeks grow warm. The butterflies she’d felt at that moment were making a return appearance. This is ridiculous. I can’t be crushing on Aziraphale, Crowley told herself. A memory of the lunchroom dream surfaced, and she saw Aziraphale alight with that radiant smile. Can I?

“So, Dante usually paints red streaks on his face before a performance. Like, dripping from his eyes or mouth.” Eric’s voice was just loud enough for Crowley to hear above the music. Startled, she turned away from the window to face him.

“Yeah?”

“You wanna do something like that?” He patted the tackle box on the seat between them. “I’ve got plenty of stuff in here for it.”

Continue on ao3...

~Of Wolf and Man

[slasherbastard]

Hey! I just found your blog recently, but I want to quickly say that I really love your writing!! You’re so talented and good at eliciting emotions! Your work has inspired me to get back into writing as well and you seem super nice! Keep doing what you’re doing!! ❤️ I’m not sure if matchups are still open, feel free to ignore this if they’re closed! But I hope you’re having a good day today! I’ll put my matchup info below:

I’m a gay trans man and I’m like 5’0” lmaoo I love playing guitar, listening to rock/metal music, and drawing! I’m not sure if it’s relevant but I have Bipolar Disorder and PTSD, and I like collecting bones/dead things hahaha! As for my appearance, I like wearing colorful/weird stuff! Like heart shaped glasses, shirts with weird images/text on them, rainbow socks… I’m kind of a fashion disaster lmao but it makes me happy! I have short, dark, curly hair and tan skin and I kind of have a baby face lol! For personality, I’m mostly quiet, but I get very passionate about certain things, especially the things that I like! I love joking around and being lighthearted! I’m pretty chill, but I’ve been told I’m a little scary when I’m angry hahaha! I’m super physically affectionate and I struggle with separation anxiety with people I really care about! I can be kind of protective too! And uhh yeah! I think that’s it!! I hope this isn’t excessive! Thank you so much in advance! Again, I hope you’re having a good day today! ❤️❤️

First of all I nearly cried reading the note, ahh thank you so much you’re so nice! Sorry this took forever to write-

I pair you with 

Chop Top Sawyer!

(gif credit: classichorrorblog)

The two of you are a real team. You’re more laid back and chill while Choptop is loud and crazy, you both go together perfectly. Seriously, even your interests match up nicely. You like collecting bones and dead things? One of the perks of dating a cannibal and living in the middle of rural texas is that there’s bound to be bones just lying around somewhere. Expect Chop Top to bring you human bones from his family’s previous victims, but if you’re not cool with collecting human bones then he’ll take you out to look for animal carcasses. You like jokes? So does Chop! He’s probably really into really bad jokes as well as dad jokes - also a few dirty ones if you’re okay with that. 

Chop Top has PTSD too so he understands what it’s like but he doesn’t understand what you’ve specifically gone through. If you’re comfortable speaking about it with him then he’s all ears. He himself doesn’t really like to talk about the war, but he might if he’s feeling a bit vulnerable. He isn’t very educated on bipolar disorder so if you’re ever feeling overwhelmed or having a depressive episode, Chop Top is one of those people who cries when he sees other people cry so if you’re ever upset you may have to end up comforting him, but he’ll also try to get your mind off of those negative thoughts and try to tell you the dumb jokes that you told him that made him nearly fall over laughing. When you’re feeling more hyper he will keep a closer eye on you just to make sure you don’t get yourself hurt - he may be a sadist but he’s also a gentleman, sort of. Also he’s perfectly fine with you being trans! He doesn’t think any less of you and won’t let anyone treat you badly or misgender you . He is very supportive but he will need you to educate him more on the topic.

Chop Top loves your style since it’s close to his but a little move evolved and he will probably take inspiration from you and try to steal your clothes and if none of them fit him he will steal your sunglasses. Also he doesn’t understand half of your shirts but he still thinks they’re funny - you definitely would’ve had to make a lot of them yourself since this is the 70s, and Chop Top would 100% want to match with you. Your wardrobe is full of bright colours and shitposts (do you like those shirts with oddly specific texts on them? Because that’s all I can think about). Imagine Drayton trying to figure out what the hell your shirts mean. “Never underestimate a man who was born in July and plays the guitar and is terrified of their aunt, and does everything they can to avoid her at family gatherings- What in the goddamn hell is that supposed to mean? What’dya mean there’s worse ones?” Think about it, you and Chop Top laughing your asses off as you both show Drayton your shared collection of weird shirts, congratulations - you’ve broken Drayton. 

Another thing about this rat is that he craves your affection. He’s a very clingy man and that mixed with your physical affection? Heaven to him. The two of you will just lay in bed cuddling for as long as you possibly can before Chop Top needs to get up and deal with his family. Chop Top definitely hates leaving you alone - probably even more than you hate being away from him - but at the end of the day when you guys are reunited, it’s just endless kissing and cuddling until you fall asleep. On the topic of affection, Chop Top loves nicknames - he also likes it when you call him Bobby.

[vquacki]

It's My Fatherly Duties!

It's My Fatherly Duties!

Short DAD Scenarios 

Characters: BONTEN - Rindou Haitani, Ran Haitani, Sanzu Haruchiyo

~ Inui Seishu, Kokonoi Hajime, Izana Kurokawa, 

~ Souya Kawata (Angry), Nahoya Kawata (Smiley)

Warning ⚠︎︎ : Mature content, cussing, MINORS DNI

Note : requested, I added some characters. Hope ya don’t mind! These are pretty short, just little things I put together. Word barf kinda..? Anyways- I hope you enjoy :))

R I N D O U 

His lashes fluttered open when he heard a loud crash coming from the hallway, along with a string of cuss words sounding like his daughter's voice. 

“What the hell was that?” You groaned, not a single word was uttered from your husband when he sprung out of bed, bolting to the bedroom down the corridor.

“Tohru?!” Rindou yelled, flinging open the door. Revealing your teenage daughter fully dressed, half way through her second story window. A facade of pillows under her blanket seeminging meant to be her ‘sleeping body’.

“Oh dad, I-”

“What the hell are you doing” The man was fuming by the ears, pajamas ruffled when he jolted out of his slumber. 

“Is Tohru okay?” You peeked from behind the broad shouldered man. 

“I was just going to get fresh air!” Your daughter lied, making up a somewhat excuse to appease her angered father. 

“Hey Tohru! Hurry up and get down here!” You heard a boy's voice call out, looking over at Rindou’s face to see the man's darkened expression.

“Who the fuck is down there? Is that a boy?!” He growled, stomping his feet over to the glass. Pushing past his daughter to take a look. 

“Oh shit- her dads here. Let’s book it!” The kids whispered, but loud enough for Rindou to make out, hastily running down the dark street. 

“You little shits! Don't you dare come back here!” Rindou growled, slamming the window shut in the process. 

“What! Dad!” Tohru whined, 

“You're so grounded young lady!” Rindou shouted, not caring for the sleeping neighbors beside his shared condo at three in the morning. 

“Rin, she was just having some fun!” You defended, you were also like her when you were her age, trouble makers run in your blood. Actually Rindou couldn't even talk- he was running roppongi at her age.  

“No! She's just too young to be hanging out with boys!” Rindou’s brows joined together as he withered in front of you. 

“But we dated when we were her age-” You deadpanned at him, 

“Grounded! My final answer!” 

R A N  

Ran was coming home from a late night bonten meeting, mouth agape when he saw his daughter’s feet dangling out from her window. 

Fearing the worst he sprinted to the ground below his child, hands outstretched to catch her if she were to misstep. 

“Mitsuri!” His voice boomed,

“Eh? Dad?!” His daughter stuttered, slowly slid out the window, climbing down like she had done this many times prior to this awkward occurrence. 

Toes easily touching the grass with ease, not a scratch upon the females porcelain skin. 

“Ran?” You yawned, cracking the door ajar. It was late, you waking up to your husband's screams outside your house. 

“Mitsuri, what are you doing climbing out your window like a maniac?!” Ran scowled, hands running through his messed up hair. Sweat dripping down his temple from the not so pleasant adrenaline rush. 

“I was just gonna hang out with some friends..” your daughter answered, fingers gripping the edge of her shirt, scarily waiting for her dad’s reaction. 

“At this time of night? .. out your window?”

“Ye-”

“Phone privileges. Give me it.” Ran demanded, palm stretched out. 

“But-” no question she was a tad bit spoiled by her father. You being the bad cop, while your husband played the good cop for his beloved daughter. 

“If you want to go anywhere all you got to do is ask!” Ran plucked the phone from his daughter's hand, a wave of relief washing over him. Secretly thanking whatever being watching over him that it wasn't some sort of gang related subject. 

“This is what you get for spoiling her!” You laughed from the sidelines, hand clutching your stomach.

“This is your fault too ya know!” Ran argued. 

“I’m the one who tries to discipline her! But someone always lets it go!” You emphasized the special somebody. 

“Whatever” Ran sighed, This was a lesson for the usual carefree man, a special lesson he wouldn't forget in the many years to come with his unborn future children. 

S A N Z U 

It was Sanzu’s best day of his life when his daughters were born, the two only being about one year apart. They were spoiled to the core, anything they wanted their money liberl father blessed them with. He thought they were the sweetest things ever, them both being a daddy's girl after all. 

He never would have expected to see both of his daughters outside his humble abode, standing beside two boys, most likely a double date. 

He stared in shock, hands pressed firmly against the glass, teeth gritting. 

“Huh? I tucked them into bed an hour ago” You rubbed your eyes, riding yourself of the sleepiness threatening to drown you. The pink haired only tutted his teeth, swifty twisting the door knob to confront the four children outside. 

“Oh you better run” your oldest daughter whispered, gesturing for the boys to make haste from her deadly father. 

“You better not come back here, unless you want trouble you fuckers!” Sanzu yelled, red in the eyes from anger. Not bothering to chase after the two scoundrels. 

“Dad, mom! What are you guys doing awake?” Your youngest asked, sheer panic in her eyes, watching her insane fathers unpleasant smile. 

“I swear you two will be the death of me” Sanzu uttered, shoving his hands into his pockets. A irked gleen in his orbs as he stared them down. 

“They were just friends dad, stop overreacting” the older daughter said, 

“I- You little shi-” He bit his lip to suppress his anger fueled words, knowing well it would definitely hurt his precious children's feelings. Having regretted it later if he were to say those sinful words. 

“Now now Sanzu, let's head to bed” You wrapped your arms around your lover, dragging him inside the house. 

“You can sort out their punishment tomorrow, after a good night's sleep” , coating him with reassuring words. That day he learned how misjudged he was of his children, even so he still loved them with all his heart.

I Z A N A 

Izana had his feet kicked up, relaxing in his office while he watched the moon. He had a clear view, the street lamps positioned next to the sidewalk, the side of his beautiful house facing his office window. He was enjoying his free time, mind taking over his body while he thought about his life choices. He was in ease until he saw his son's window light up, a long string of rope being tossed out the opening. 

Sitting up from his chair, he rushed over to his clear casement. Throwing his window open, a boy and girl standing beneath his son's window. The two holding the rope still as your child tried to slid down. 

“My my Yuki, where are you off to?” Izana laughed, nerves finally relaxing when he figured out what was going on. Calmly settling into the frame, head leaning on his chin. It wasn't like he had the right to be upset, he did much worse when he was his son's age. Robbing, fighting, killing. You name it, Izana’s done it. 

Sneaking out was nothing compared to what he did, but he wasn't gonna just let his son go. He was more wise now, he knew for a fact he didn't want his son to end up anything like him. Sure, he wanted the boy to have fun, but in a normal kid way. 

“Dad! Um- I”

“You better get your arse back up that window before I drag you around with that rope” Izana smiled, Totally different from the sentence he was portraying. Not forgetting his manners, giving a nonchalant wave to the other two kids. 

“Zana? Who are you talking to?” You asked, placing a cup of tea you had prepared for Izana on his desk. 

“Oh no one doll” Izana answered, closing the window before walking over to you. 

“Let's go to bed, yeah?” He proposed, trailing his hands around your shoulders, guiding you to the door.

“But the tea I made”

“Im tired~” 

Overall the male wouldn't want to talk further about the situation, nor would he discuss it with you. Trivial matters held no place between you both, as long as the child did not dare do it again. 

I N U I 

Inui wiped the sweat dripping from his forehead, the AC wasnt working at the motor shop. Him, draken and yourself were sweating bullets, the hot material around you not helping. You had decided to help the pair around the shop, cleaning what you could. Or helping with cashing every customer out, it would've been an easy task if it wasn't blazing hot. 

Leaving your daughter home alone, obviously thinking she’d stay and do her teenage things. You couldn't be more mistaken, astounded as you watched her fiddle around with a boy across the street at the ice cream parlor. 

“Y/N please don't tell me that Kagura..” Inui’s jaw dropped, the wrench that was once in his clasp dropping to the ground. Startling the concentrating Draken that was crouched over a motorbike. 

“What's wrong Inui? Y/N” Draken twisted his body around, raising a brow when you two just started muttering to each other like two creeps. 

“Is that... a boy” Inui held his chin between his fingers, squinting to get a better view of his kid. 

“You trying to catch flies with your mouth Inui? Close your yap” You whispered, 

“Y/N! She's too young, I feel like I just held her in my arms not too long ago. She can't get married just yet!” Inui argued, he would've been on the verge of tears if he didn't have a reputation to uphold. 

“What? The fuck are you on Inui? She's probably just with a friend!” You patted his back, reassuring the man. 

“Boys and girls can be friends ya’know” you added.

Cueing the two children across the road from you, feeding scoops of ice cream to each other.

“I don't think friends do that..” Inui looked over at you, eyes widening when you swung the motor shop’s door open. Hands coming around your mouth to amplify your words,

“Kagura, is that your boyfriend?” 

“WHAT?” Inui almost fainted, the ledge behind him holding his wobbly frame up right. 

“I didn't know you guys would be here!” Your daughter jogged across the street, leaving the boy sitting by himself. 

“And no! Just a friend” She answered your embarrassing, blushing as she stared down at the ground.,

“I sense some lies” you wiggled playfully at the flustered girl. 

“What! Anyways, Sorry I left the house without telling you” Kagura apologized, 

“Just don't do it again, without my permission..” Inui stated, 

“Especially not with a boy.”

K O K O N O I

Bribing people is his forte, and if they did not obliged? Threatening always did the trick. 

And that's exactly what he did when he saw his descendant out with a male. All was dandy until the boy came running back, babbling about how his girl was the so called ‘love of his life’.

“Hey brat, you got a death wish?” Kokonoi asked, leaning against the door frame. 

“Koko go easy on him, he’s just a kid” You nudged the man, a mischievous grin plastered on the males face. 

“And I kinda think it's cute” You said, a small smile erupting from your daughter that was not so far behind her parents. 

“I approve, kid! I like your romantic drive!” You clapped, 

“Y/N!” Kokonoi pouted, 

“You better not try to bribe him with money again” You threatened, waving a finger at the whiny man. 

“Yeah! I like him too, dad!” Your daughter agreed. 

“You're like twelve, go play chess or something” Kokonoi barked, crossing his arms in disapproval. 

“Dad, I'm sixteen!” 

“That's what I said” 

S O U Y A 

He almost had a panic attack at the sight, having to shield the man from the scene playing out. Your twin daughter saying their goodbyes to their dates, followed by a kiss. You removed your hand when the boys were no longer in view, riding off in their motorcycles. 

“Shira, Nihra” You held Souya up by the shoulder, the light headed male limping towards the worried kids.

“What's wrong with dad?” Nihra questioned, eyeing her ghostly pale father. 

“He's out of it” You giggled, 

“I'm not crazy am i?” He stood tall, letting go of the arm you had draped around him. 

“There was boys-” His voice cracked. 

“You saw that dad?” Shira sweat dropped, watching as her fathers should leave his body. 

“Next time ask before you go out” You smiled, you weren't too strict on the two. They were Souya’s children, earning most of their adorable traits from him. Even his fighting skills. 

“This better not happen again, i'm trusting you” Souya grumbled.

“Sorry pops” The two girls remorsefully sollied the man, both hooking onto one of Souya’s arms as they helped his shell into the house. 

N A H O Y A 

Nahoya was beyond pissed, infamous smile widening. Taking fast steps towards your daughter and her significant other. 

“Look boy, I don't know who you are. But my daughters not up for grabs” Nahoya grinned, cracking his fingers. 

“O-okay sir” the boy was jittering, body trembling from the males intense arua. 

“If I catch ya here again” he used his finger to slash his neck, motioning to the death that would happily greet the boy if they were to ever meet again.

“Yer dead meat kiddo”  Nahoya laughed, watching as the boy ran for his life. 

“Dad, that was really extra!” Your daughter sneered, a pout on her lips. 

“Shut up!, you're grounded rat!” Nahoya shouted. 

“Yeah Nahoya, there was no need to threaten the poor kid. He looked like he was gonna piss himself.” 

“Exactly the effect i wanted”

End Note : as I said this was a word barf T-T, so it’s quite short.

Reblogs & Notes are always appreciated! Take care! ♡︎♡︎

[tonberry-yoda]

(some hinting on recent mha chapters!!)

Heyoo, how ya been? Hope you're doing well!

Saw that you had an event going on and thought of joining ✌️ How about a fic for our door-like friend, Present Mic! Since he is finally in the spot light, as he deservessss!

Hope you have a great day/night! ❤️‍🔥

OMG HI! I feel like I havent got a request from you in forever @imloudafsocoveryourears!!! I'm so happy you took place in thie even!! I've been really good, just getting inspired to write more! I hope you're well!!! I love Mic and I haven't wrote for him in AGES, so thank you so so much! I hope you enjoy this fic that i accidentally put my whole heart and soul into and have a great day! stay hydrated love!

Clubbing - Present Mic

Pairing - Present Mic x reader

Warnings - none!

Word Count - 729

Notes - thank you again!!! this was a lot of fun and overall a banger of a fic if i do say so myself. im almost at 300 followers and i just wanted to thank all of you for following me in this journey! i love you all and i hope you enjoy this fic! have a great day/night and stay hydrated!! <333

Your eardrums were thumping as you walked into the club, bright, multicolored lights hitting your face from every direction. You definitely weren't used to this atmosphere. You just got so comfortable working at the office and in the studio with Present Mic that you forgot his work could look like this too; bright and so goddamn loud.

The worst part, it was going to be impossible to find him in this huge crowd. You just needed him to sign something and you could go home. Oh god, a couch sounded really nice.

You looked stupid in that club. You didn't care to change out of your work clothes, which in this case was a hoodie and some jeans, while everyone else around you was wearing body glitter and covered in some sort of bright attire. You thought that because of that it would actually be easy to find Mic, since he was always in black and all, but you found it to be much harder. Not to mention that he decided to wear his hair down that day so you couldn't find that blonde cockatoo styled head.

You began asking around, but no one knew where he was. Either that or they were too drunk or too occupied with their lover to even acknowledge that you were there.

You were just going to call it a day when you heard a very familiar voice boom throughout the club.

The last place you thought of checking that should've been your first. Of course he was there.

On stage.

Shit.

Maybe you didn't even need that signature after all. No one would be... too upset, right? Either way, you wanted to get the hell out of there. Maybe you would call him frantically a little later asking for that signature.

You quickly turned away and began walking out of the club, pushing past brightly colored shirts and laughing groups as Mic was spewing words about something, you couldn't really hear him. It felt like you were out at sea, swimming for dear life. It was honestly a little embarrassing.

"y/n?" You heard over the crowd. You quickly turned around to find Mic waving at you from up on stage and immediately squinted at the spotlight they put on you. The crowd from around you split, really calling out that you were there.

What an ass.

"y/n! Come up here!!!" The crowd quickly made a trail for you to get to the stage. Not the way you wanted to see Mic, but good enough.

You went up on stage, your face bright red, and Mic pulled you in for a hug, letting the band start playing some music, which everyone off stage started dancing to.

"Hey, y/n! What are you doing here?" He led you off stage and took a long sip from a plastic water bottle.

"I just needed you to sign this," you admitted, handing him the paper. "It was due like three hours ago and someone's gonna be on my ass if I don't get it signed by the morning."

"Ah, I see. Sorry about that, y/n. I guess I forgot. I'll gladly give an autograph to my biggest fans up at the Hero's Association."

You giggled and took a seat on a nearby stool. "Thanks, Mic."

"Of course. I knew they would be up your ass more than mine. Again, I'm really sorry." He handed you the paper back with a smile.

"Thanks Mic. This really means a lot." You sighed of relief and took the paper, putting it in your bag before throwing your arms around Mic. "You're the best, you know that?"

"Oh stop." Mic blushed and rubbed your back, resting his chin on your shoulder. "Stay safe, okay? It's pretty dark out."

"I will, I promise." You pulled away from the hug and placed your hands in his. "I'll see you tomorrow, alright? Don't party too hard. It is a weekday after all."

"I know, I know. I do this all the time. I'll see you tomorrow, y/n."

"Bye, Mic." You quickly, trying not to draw attention to it, gave Mic a quick peck on the lips before running off.

You left him a blushing mess as he chugged the rest of his water before going back on stage to try to perform without you popping up in his mind.

---

mha masterlist --- pinned post

@tonberry-yoda

[sunmoonandeddie]

and he kissed me right here

pairing: modern!bucky barnes x reader

word count: 6,100

summary: I've always been sure that all I ever wanted was a glamorous life.

warnings: Cuss words, mentions of the Afghanistan war (Bucky is a veteran), angst, happy ending, cheesy romantic confessions, age gap

a/n:  This is based on the song 'Stars and the Moon' from Songs for a New World! It's the first one shot in my musical series! This is written in first perspective, but there is no physical description or use of a name in this!

Twenty-Two

I sighed as I tossed a few more dirty plates into the dish window, wiping my brow. After a shitty dinner rush and an even shittier rush around two in the morning consisting only of drunk ass college kids looking for some sort of carb to suck up all the alcohol in their systems, I was ready to go the fuck home.

“Sweetheart, you head on home now,” the head chef insisted as he watched my head nod slightly as I tried my best to fight off sleep. “Ain’t nobody comin’ in before Melissa gets here. No point in you staying on your feet any longer.”

Louis was a godsend. At sixty-seven years old, you’d think he would rather be anywhere but a diner at almost four in the morning.

“Nah,” he had said when I’d asked him a few months after I’d first started. “My Ginny died a few years back, and since she’s been gone, I don’t really have the stomach to sit around that house all alone.” He had laughed, but there’d been a deep sorrow that had come over his deep brown eyes. “Kids are worried, but… Sleeping the day away is better than laying up at night staring at her side of the bed…”

“You sure, Lou?” I asked even as I headed for the back room where all the employees clocked in and kept their possessions in their own little cubbies. I did my checkout in view of the security camera, just like always. I didn’t want anyone to be able to say I stole anything.

Everyone who knew me knew that I wouldn’t, but I’d worked at two many places where the girls tried backstabbing each other and sabotaging everyone else to get them fired.

Though people were a lot nicer in Louisiana than any of the other places I’d lived.

Louis chuckled as he set a to-go box in the window, nodding towards it. “Mmhm. Long as Buck is getting you home safe.”

I gave him a joking eye roll as I took the to-go box gratefully, grinning at my name written in all caps with green Sharpie on top. “You know you don’t have to make me dinner every night.”

“Yes, I do,” he said, shooting me a look. “How else do I know you’re getting enough food in you, huh?” He pointed his rag at me. “Now you go ask him to get you home. Tell him I said he can clock out, and that he’s supposed to text me when he sees you safe inside. You better not say you’re gonna ask him again just to walk yourself home.” The old man shook his head as I headed for the back door, muttering to himself, “Damn girl thinks I’m gonna believe she’s feeding herself good enough when she’s risking her damn ass walking home alone.”

Despite the fact that I’d put off asking for Bucky Barnes’s service, I really did appreciate how fiercely Louis cared about me.

It had been a real long time since anyone had cared so much.

I hesitated at the back door of the diner, my hand resting against the cool metal.

What if he said no?

Granted, he most likely wouldn’t. But what if he said yes, and he secretly thought me some dumb little girl that couldn’t take care of herself?

What did I care if he thought that?

“I don’t care what he thinks of me,” I huffed as I straightened my shoulders, holding my chin a little higher.

“Stop talking to yourself and get going!”

I jumped in surprise, before shooting a glare in the direction of the kitchen. “Stop listening in on my private conversations!” I demanded before storming outside with new found vigor.

Only to freeze when Bucky looked up from where he was sitting on the curb, smoking a cigarette.

God, he was handsome.

“You okay, doll face?” He asked, his New York accent a sharp contrast to the southern drawls you were used to.

“Um… Y-Yeah,” I said faintly, glancing back at the door that I’d come in from. “Um… L-Louis wants me to ask you… Can you walk me home? Or give me a ride? I don’t… I don’t know if you drive…”

“I do drive.”

“O-Oh. Okay. Great.”

“But I don’t have my car on me.”

I peered at him curiously. “Oh. Um… I can just walk by myself. I don’t wanna… I don’t wanna be a nuisance…”

He stood up, tossing his cigarette to the ground and stomping it out. “Don’t be ridiculous, darlin.’ Come on. I’ll walk you.” He shoved his hands in his pockets as he began to head for the street. “Besides… It’s a real nice night.”

“Oh…,” I said in surprise at how ready he was to be of service. “Okay. But only if you’re sure.”

A faint smile graced his lips as he glanced at the ground, letting out a faint chuckle that rumbled deep in his chest. “I’m sure, darlin.’ But you gotta lead the way.”

I was surprised by the rapid pitter patter of my heart beat as we walked side by side down the street, the chorus of ‘Yellow Brick Road’ getting stuck in my head on a loop.

Bucky was an enigma that I found myself wondering about more often than not, but I always ended up talking myself out of going there. After all, he was an older man. A much older man. At least fifteen years older than my own twenty-two years, or something along those lines, not that he looked it. The man looked like some kind of rugged Greek god. Like Hades if Hades was born in the eighties. His dog tags clinked together under his shirt as we walked, his metal prosthetic glinting in the moon.

“So how did you end up in NOLA?”

It took me a moment to even realize that he was talking to me, my heart skipping a beat and my face going hot in embarrassment. “I’m sorry, what did you say?” I asked.

His bright blue eyes flickered over to look me over. “How’d you end up in New Orleans?”

“I actually don’t know,” I snorted, avoiding his eyes as I kicked at a few broken up pieces of asphalt. “I just… Picked a bus ticket and ended up in one of the Carolinas. Then I picked another bus ticket and ended up in Minnesota. And then I picked another, and another, and another, and then I actually just… ended up here.” The months I’d spent alone on those Greyhounds felt both so long ago and also like it was just yesterday. “The diner was the first place someone recommended for food that’s good but cheap, and as I was eating my mountain of cheese fries, I saw the flyer that said they were hiring. So here I am now…”

“Huh,” he said, his brows furrowed. “I didn’t take you for the type of person to run off on your own… riding buses all over the country…”

Head tilting to the side, I gave him a long look. “You didn’t? What kind of type did you peg me for?”

Bucky gave me a long look, a single brow raised as though silently telling me that I jumped to conclusions. “Just that jumping from place to place can take a lot outta someone,” he said slowly, his voice low and soothing. “Hell, if you were my girl—” He broke off as his cheeks flushed a pretty shade of pink, his long hair falling in his face.

I swore my heart had stopped inside of my chest, and I swallowed thickly around the lump in my throat. “Oh?”

He rushed to try to correct his wording. “I-I just mean, a lady should be comfortable. And if I had a g-girl like you, well… You’d never want for anything,” he stammered, stumbling over his words like a flustered school boy. “Hell, I… I’d give you the stars and the moon…”

I was shocked into silence, staring up at him like he was the sun itself. “Bucky…”

“No, no, don’t say anything. I… I know that was a lot,” he insisted quietly, unable to meet your eyes as he stared up at the shitty apartment building you called home. “Hell, you probably don’t want a gross old man hitting on you.” His metal hand, glinting in the low light of the street lamp, reached up to brush against my cheek for just a moment before it quickly dropped. “Just let me walk you home each night so I can make sure you’re safe, yeah?”

“Yeah,” I breathed out, unable to take my eyes off of him as he took a few steps back.

There’s a somewhat playful smirk on his lips as he watched me stumble up the steps, continuously glancing back at him. “Goodnight, baby doll.”

“Goodnight,” I said, barely audible before I finally headed inside.

Bucky kept his word. He walked me home every night, and honestly, there wasn’t a moment that I wasn’t thinking about what he had said, about if I was his girl.

What if I was his girl?

But… with that meant I’d have to give up the life I’d dreamed for myself. I wanted luxury, to never worry about bills or where I was gonna get my next meal or if I could afford to buy the nice work shoes or if I could only get the cheap ones that would fall apart in three months and then I’d just be right back where I started.

I wanted the life that celebrities lived. Hell, I wanted to go to parties on the same yachts the Kardashian-Jenners did, even if I couldn’t fucking stand them.

And with Bucky… I wouldn’t have that.

“So why’d you go on the run anyway?” Bucky asked one night as we sat on the curb, eating ice cream in the Louisiana heat. “I know you told me how you got here, but you’ve never told me why.”

“You’ve never told me how you ended up here or why either,” I shot back, nudging his shoulder with my own.

Somehow the age difference seemed non-existent as we sat there. Honestly, I felt like we were just a bunch of dumb teenagers, shooting the shit and enjoying each other’s company.

Bucky took in a deep breath, his shoulders sinking in a way that made it look like he had all the weight of the world on his shoulders. “I was over in Afghanistan for a long time,” he admitted quietly. “When the war first started, I was 19. I had no idea where my life was going and I had no options except my dad’s mechanic shop. So I enlisted with my best friend, Steve. The one I told you about.”

It’s completely silent except for the sound of an occasional car horn off in the distance.

“Neither one of us knew what we were doing. We realized very quickly that we had no reason being over there, but… but there was nothing else,” he said, swallowing around the lump in his throat. The ice cream he was holding was melting in his trembling hands. “I didn’t know how to do anything else, so I stayed. Steve moved up in the ranks, but I stayed pretty low… I didn’t mind. Kinda liked being the older guy all those young kids could talk to, could rely on… Because they were just like me, getting into a fight that wasn’t theirs because they had nothing else.”

My heart was shattering inside my chest as I scooted a little closer, my knee knocking against his as I tried to give him some sort of silent comfort. He’d been through Hell and made it through.

Bucky let his head rest against mine, his eyes closing as he breathed in the scent of my perfume. “They eventually moved me to some kind of specialized team… Called us the Howling Commandos. I found out that Steve was heading it and he picked me to be part of it. That’s how I met Sam, because he was on some sort of similar team with the Air Force, except it was just him and his friend, Riley,” he continued, taking a bite of his chocolate fudge brownie ice cream. “I am proud to say that I didn’t kill a single person while I was over there. I just couldn’t. Hell, they’re people just like me, terrified and unsure of what’s going to happen.” His lips pressed against my forehead, letting it linger. “But then about five years ago, I was on a mission with the Commandos, Sam, and Riley, and… this bomb went off while we were playing a game of soccer. I wasn’t even in a fight. That thing took my arm and it took Riley.”

Tentatively, I let my fingers find his, holding his hand and squeezing reassuringly.

“Sam decided to come home with me.” There was a forlorn look in his eyes, as though he was right back at that game of pick-up soccer. “After losing Riley… he couldn’t find a reason to be over there. And then Steve decided to stay, and hell, he’s still over there, leading that fucking team…” Glassy baby blue eyes finally found mine, the both of us doing our best to not cry. “I couldn’t face my family for a long time, so Sam asked me to come stay in Louisiana with him and his family, and I haven’t left since.”

“Have you gone to see your family?” I asked slowly, almost like I was scared I’d frighten him if I spoke too loudly, like a wild animal. “Let them know where you are? That you’re safe?”

He turned to look at me, his baby blues shining. “You worried about me, baby doll?”

“I can’t help it,” I said honestly, unable to tear my eyes away. I hadn’t opened up to someone like that in so damn long. “I can’t help but worry about you.”

The way that I felt about Bucky absolutely terrified me, but there was nothing I could do to stop it. It snuck up on me, like a train coming around a bend.

I hated it.

“What do you want out of this life?” Bucky asked on one walk home, his arm linked in mine. He’d become so much more… tactile. If anyone took a moment to look at us, they’d think we were a couple on a romantic stroll.

Perhaps we were.

But I couldn’t help but grin as I looked up at the sky, taking in the warm air. “I wanna live like how the movie stars do… I want a big house on the beach and twenty cars and a yacht and… and…”

He looked at me long and hard. “And you never wanna have to worry about where your next meal is coming from, if you’re gonna have a place to sleep at night…”

For some reason, I’d felt a bolt of panic over whether or not he’d understand. Whether or not he’d think differently of me, but I should’ve known that he wouldn’t. Hell, he knew me better than anyone else.

“You understand,” I said quietly, my hand squeezing his bicep gratefully. “I want to live how the other half lives for once. I don’t think there’s anything wrong with that.”

A small smile graced his features as we shuffled along. “There isn’t. But… What about love?” He asked.

“Love?”

“Love.”

Love.

Could I even have love? Did I want it?

“I don’t know if there’s a lot of room for love in my plans,” I admitted after a long moment. “In my experience, love has always just been a lie. A word used to manipulate and eventually abuse.”

Letting out a snort, he let his fingers tickle down my tricep until his fingers intertwined with mine. “I’d show you it’s not… I’d show you what real love is,” he said. “I’d give you every part of me, give you all my strength to help you grow into who you wanna be, even if I don’t particularly care about being famous or rich…” He brought my hand to his lips, kissing my knuckles. “I’ll give you a love story, a life, that’s a million times better than any recycled Hollywood plot… I’ll give you the stars and the moon, if you would just let me.”

I hated the way that he made my heart beat faster, the way my breath hitched. “Jamie,” I breathed out quietly, the two of us having stopped in our tracks to just… take each other in. Live in each other’s presence for a moment. “I…”

“You want a big life… one a lot bigger than little old me,” he said simply, shrugging. His blue eyes were so honest, so loving. So warm. A warmth I hadn’t ever experienced before. “I know. But that doesn’t change that I’m in love with you. And if you ever change your mind…” Bucky reached into his pocket and pulled out a business card, pressing it into my free hand. “This is where you can find me. I figure it’s time for me to go home.”

We’d come to a stop in front of my building, and I was shocked at how tight my chest felt. My eyes watered as I stared at him long and hard. “Jamie, please… I⏤”

“Don’t say it. It’s okay,” he insisted as he cupped my cheek, letting his thumb run over my skin as though he was memorizing it. “I just want you to be happy, darling. You got that?” His lips pressed to my forehead, letting it linger. “Go get that life you’ve been dreaming of.”

Twenty-Three

I left New Orleans the next day, grabbing a bus ticket after throwing all of my belongings into my old duffel bag. It was time to move on.

But God, did it hurt.

I didn’t stop crying for weeks, fighting the urge to go right back to Louisiana and tell Bucky to take it back, to get him to beg me to stay with him.

But what kind of life would that leave me with? Working in the diner day after day? Never getting anywhere?

But you’d have James, a voice inside my head reminded me snarkily.

Then again, he most likely wasn’t even in New Orleans anymore, if what he said was true when he gave me the business card of his father’s mechanic shop. Was he really planning on going home to New York City?

A few months later, and I’d worked my way all through the southwest to Santa Fe, where I met Pietro.

My heart was pounding as I pressed in the familiar numbers, having memorized them from the business card now soft and faded from how often I held it in my hands like a lifeline. “Come on… Pick up… Pick up…”

“Barnes Tires and Motors, this is George,” a man said in a gruff voice when he finally picked up. “How can I help you?”

“H-Hi, is James there? James Barnes? Bucky?” I stammered out, hands trembling so bad that the old payphone was almost rattling.

There was a pause, and then muffled talking away from the phone.

And then I heard it being picked up. “This is Bucky,” he said.

It felt like the wind had been knocked right out of my lungs. How had I gone so long without hearing his voice?

Breathing in sharply, I tried to figure out the words to say. But my throat was dry and it was like I’d suddenly forgotten the entire English language.

That was all that it took for Bucky to realize it was me. “Baby doll? Baby doll, is that you?” He asked quietly. “I…” He took in a deep breath, trying to calm himself down. “You don’t gotta say a thing, sweetheart… But just know that if you’re in trouble or you need help or… or anything at all, you better call me…” His voice wavered, as though he was fighting tears just like I was. “God, I miss you so much, baby doll. I love you.”

I love you, too.

I hung up before I could actually say the words. “God, I’m so fucking stupid,” I whispered as I leaned back against the wall of the gas station I’d found myself at, rubbing the heels of my hands into my eyes.

My dumb ass had decided to wander from the bus station, and I’d walked over a mile away. Unless I was staying in Santa Fe for a bit, I’d need to start making my way back.

“You okay?”

In my distress, I hadn’t even heard the rumbling of the motorcycle or noticed the handsome man making his way to me. “Uh, yeah. Yeah, I’m fine,” I said even as I wiped my nose with a pathetic sniffle.

He eyed me for a long moment, his eyes roaming over my figure. “You hungry? I know a great little place nearby. My treat.”

And well, I was never one to turn down free food.

Even if that ‘little place’ ended up being a food truck.

“You know, when you said it was a little place, I didn’t picture it having wheels,” I said teasingly, licking salsa off of my lower lip. “Though, it is the best food I’ve ever gotten from a food truck before.”

“Oh, come on. This is the best food of all time!” He laughed, shaking his head.

“I don’t know if I’d go that far,” I snorted, finishing off my flautas.

Pietro looked at me long and hard. “So, are you gonna tell me what the hell was going on to have a pretty girl like you all teary eyed?” He asked, his head tilting to the side.

I couldn’t help but roll my eyes. “Was this your plan all along?” I asked. Wiping my hands off on a napkin, I did everything I could to avoid his eyes. “Get me all fed and then question me?” But at the same time, the thought of being able to finally talk to someone about it was so appealing… After a long moment of hesitation, I finally gave in. “I fell in love with a man, and he let me go because he knew that I want a life he can’t give me,” I said. “And I was a bitch who didn’t even tell him I love him back when he said it to me.”

Pietro took in a deep breath, slowly letting it out. “Damn. You really are a stone cold bitch, aren’t you?”

“Hey!” I indignantly threw a chunk of tomato at him, glaring. “I just opened up my heart, you dickwad.”

“Dickwad?!” He said, blinking at me in shock. “No one’s ever called me a dickwad before.”

I raised a single eyebrow at him. “Maybe not to your face, but they definitely have.” He gave off the vibe of a fuckboy, of a really, really bad fuckboy.

“Well, since you’re running away from your feelings, how about you spend a week or two with me on the road?” He asked with a grin.

I couldn’t help but blink at him in shock. “What?” I let out a laugh, pulling one of my legs up to my chest. “Do you throw that line out to every girl you meet? Or am I just special?”

Pietro threw a chip at me, and I barely managed to dodge it. “No, I don’t. But… You remind me of me. Needing adventure. A life bigger than four walls and a fence.”

Instinctively, I wanted to snap back that sometimes, four walls and a fence could be an adventure, could be the biggest life there was, as Bucky’s face flashed across my mind.

But I couldn’t do that. Not when I wasn’t ready to face the truth myself.

“Come on, sweet cheeks,” he teased as his foot hooked around mine. “Just think of it. The open highway, a rhythm beneath your feet… Nights full of passion and days of adventure…” Pietro’s voice was deep and husky, as though he was trying to lure me in. “No strings… just warm summer rain soaking us to the bone before we find some cheap motel to huddle down in…”

Plastering on a smile, I stood up and brushed myself on. “Thanks, but… I’d rather be drinking champagne, and the quicker I get to LA, the sooner I will be.”

He let me go with a kiss on the cheek and his cell number pressed into my hand, with a promise to come and pick me up the second I rang.

And despite how sweet he was, how wild and funny and charismatic, there was only one man I wanted to call.

Twenty-Four

I sipped at my martini as I sat at the rooftop bar, absentmindedly watching the television that was mounted on the wall as people droned around me. I’d been in Los Angeles for a year, and I’d spent my time finding the best places to find a husband who could give me the life I dreamed of.

As much as I didn’t want to admit it, it took connections to build a career, and the best way to get a foot in the door when nepotism was so rampant was by marrying someone in the industry.

My silk dress was the most expensive thing I owned, something I’d saved up for months for, had skipped meals for. And fuck, was it worth it. I could feel the stares, the lingering gazes on the little bit of thigh that was exposed by the slit in the dress.

I’d already turned away several men, able to tell just from their expensive watches and cheap suits and shoes.

It was amazing how all the up and coming finance bros thought they fit in with the truly big dogs.

“Well, hello, gorgeous.”

I turned to see who was speaking, my heart skipping a beat when I realized who I was speaking to.

The world famous (or infamous) director, Tony Stark.

“Hello, handsome,” I said smoothly, my lashes fluttering innocently as I took a sip of my horrible drink.

I fucking hated martinis. Always had.

But ordering a martini was more sophisticated than ordering a frozen strawberry margarita.

“Is this seat taken?” He asked as he motioned to the empty bar stool right next to me, even as he was already sitting down. “Let me buy your next round.”

“I can’t think of anything better,” I said, feeling as though my dream life was already in reach.

Twenty-Eight

“Tony, where are you taking me?” I laughed as I let my boyfriend lead me to the private dock at our Malibu mansion.

Well, his mansion. I just happened to also live there.

It had been a whirlwind of a year since I had met Tony, and he’d bought me that second round. He’d taken me all over the globe, anywhere my heart desired.

But I made sure to avoid New York City, though he never understood why. I would never tell him.

Not when I was so close to my dream. I could practically taste it.

“Come on, come on. I have a surprise for you,” he said, keeping his hands over my eyes. He was sure to keep me from tripping and busting my ass, thank god.

The ocean waves were so comforting as they hit the shore, a sound I’d gotten used to over the past year.

He finally brought me to a stop, quietly telling me to keep my eyes closed. “Okay,” he said finally. “Open them.”

My eyes slowly opened, adjusting to the bright light of the California sun. But I was more shocked by the sight of Tony on one knee in front of me, holding out a box with a sparkling diamond ring in it. “Tony?”

The ring was the size of a fucking meteor. It was easily the biggest ring I’d ever seen.

“You know, I never thought I’d meet someone like you,” he said quietly, his dark eyes shining. But his voice was steady. “Someone who understands me, who doesn’t expect me to change into someone I’m not. You accept me as I am, and that’s why I want to give you the world.” He couldn’t help but grin as he nodded to the right. “Starting with that yacht you’ve always dreamed of.”

I hadn’t even noticed that there were two yachts at his private docks instead of just the one. The new one had SS Princess emblazoned on the side, and I couldn’t help but laugh. “Oh… Tony…”

“So, what do you say?” He asked, bringing my attention back to him. “Will you be my wife?”

“Yes.”

Thirty-Two

Swallowing nervously, I looked down at the business card in my hand for the millionth time, the stock paper soft from how often I’d looked at it in the past ten years.

Hell, just how often I’d looked at it in the past six should’ve made it fall apart by now. Not that I didn’t have it memorized.

I’d finally ended my marriage after being miserable for so long. I’d gotten my yacht, my fancy houses, my career, all the jewelry that I could dream of, and none of it made me happy. Tony and I… never grew. And I never dreamed. Every day was the same, and every day was torture as I realized that I didn’t have the one thing that actually mattered.

The garage in front of me was busy, music blasting and the sound of men shouting to each other as they worked.

Suddenly I felt absolutely ridiculous wearing a Chanel dress and Gucci heels, an Hermés bag on my arm.

BARNES TIRES AND MOTORS was lit up along the top of the shop in bright red letters, though the lights in the ‘r’ of ‘motors’ were out.

I felt like a fool. I had wanted the life I had so desperately that I gave up everything for it. I got the movie star life, my name on billboards and my face on magazines.

But it wasn’t ever enough.

My heels clicked against the blacktop as I slowly made my way towards the front area of the shop, bells clinging above my head to let them know someone was there.

“Can I help you, ma’am?” A man asked as he came around the corner.

He looked so much like Bucky, it punched the air straight from my lungs.

“H-Hi. I’m looking for James Barnes. Is he here?” I asked after a long moment of hesitation. There was no way that the man was Bucky, but I didn’t doubt he was related.

The man raised his brows, wiping his hands on a rag. “My son’s in the shop. I’ll take you to him.” His full head of hair was white, his thick facial hair matching. Even with all the wrinkles on his face, he was a handsome man. Holding open the door for me, he led me into the loud shop, some eighties rock song blasting over the speakers.

I couldn’t help but smile as ‘Rock You Like a Hurricane’ by Scorpions came on. It was one of Bucky’s favorites back when we worked in the diner together.

“BUCK! YOU GOT A VISITOR!” The man shouted, causing several people to look our way.

My cheeks felt hot as I avoided their gaze, hoping they wouldn’t recognize me. I didn’t want to be a famous movie star anymore, a celebrity that had to beg for scraps of privacy.

My mind went numb, my heart stopping inside my chest as he stepped around a gray Ford Escape another man was working on.

He was even more handsome than he was the last time I saw him.

“Can I help y—” He broke off, his blue eyes going wide when he realized that it was me. “Hi.”

All of a sudden, everything I’d planned to say flew out of my head. All of the eloquent words I’d strung together were gone. And I just proceeded to word vomit.

“Did you know that, uh, when you marry someone you’re not in love with, you won’t… you won’t grow into it?” I asked, my voice shaking. “Um… I married a man who could give me a life I thought I always wanted, and he just… sucked.” Eyes stinging, I fought back against tears. “And I thought that all I ever wanted was the life I have now, was the life movie stars and the Kardashians lived. But… But I hate it. I hated every second I was away from you.” I let out a weak laugh, unable to stop the tears. “I wanted to turn around the second I got on the bus in New Orleans, but my stupid stubborn ass didn’t. I should have. I should’ve gotten off and just run right back to you because I… I love you, James. I always have.”

The garage had gone almost deadly quiet, and my heart sank when I realized Bucky looked almost frozen in shock.

“I know that I shouldn’t have showed up like this,” I scrambled to say. “But I… I’ve been trying to get my divorce finalized for two years and I finally did, and I kept telling myself that once it was done, I’d never hold myself back from what I really want ever again. From who I want. If… If you want me.” My face felt like it was on fire, my hands shaking. I shook my head as I took a step backwards. “What am I thinking? There’s no way you’re not married. I… I’m so so—”

Before I could finish the word ‘sorry,’ Bucky had closed the distance between us, his hands cradling my face so gently. He held me like I was made of fine crystal as he kissed me. He kissed me like his life depended on it, like I was the one source of oxygen.

And I kissed him back just as fiercely. “I love you. I love you so much,” I breathed out in between kisses, unwilling to let him go as my Hermés bag fell into the dust and oil on the concrete below.

Bucky smiled into the kiss, his arm wrapping around my waist to keep me pressed to his chest. “I love you so much, darlin.’ God, I’ve missed you…” His nose nudged against mine as we finally broke for air, both of us breathing heavily.

My knees felt like Jell-O as I held onto him. His grip was the only reason I hadn’t fallen to the ground already.

“I’m sorry I was a dumb twenty-two year old,” I said, snorting as he stole another kiss.

“No… Don’t be sorry,” he insisted, his fingers massaging my scalp as our foreheads pressed together. It was like he was scared to stop touching me, like I would disappear at any second. “You were young… You had to go out and make your own mistakes… I’ve just been waiting for the day you were ready.”

All the years apart melted away and all that remained was the two of us, two souls so intertwined that there was no way to truly separate us.

Our lips were half molded together as I said, “I’m never leaving you again. I promise I swear on everything…”

My heart almost stopped inside my chest as I heard someone clearing their throat, looking to see Bucky’s father staring at us with his arms crossed over his chest. “M-Mr. Barnes, sir…”

He gave a crooked smile that was so reminiscent of Bucky that I couldn’t help but grin back. “The Mrs. will wanna know if you’re staying for dinner.”

“Yeah,” I said as I looked up at Bucky, toying with a strand of his hair. “That sounds perfect.”

Later that night, Bucky and I laid in his bed, a mess of bare limbs as his fingers ran up and down my back soothingly. “What do you want from this life, baby girl?” He asked absentmindedly.

Humming, I traced shapes on his bare chest, sometimes pressing a kiss to where his prosthetic met his shoulder, on the tender scar tissue. “You.”

A grin tugged at the corner of his mouth, despite the already mischievous look on his face. “Really? Not even the stars and the moon?” He asked teasingly.

I knew he’d give it to me anyway, give me all that he could. But I was sure now that the only thing I wanted from this life was his love. “Not even the stars and the moon.”

[lale-txt]

Can I request the “I still love you okay?” prompt with Robin please?

I AM SO HAPPY THAT YOU REQUESTED ROBIN AAAAHHHH i was hoping someone would do, so thank you <3

prompt: "i still love you, okay?" w/ Robin

word count: 756

What a mess.

You look at the book in your left hand and the... well, probably five hundred other books that were now scattered all over the floor. Books that were on the shelf where they belonged only ten seconds ago.

If it wasn't way past midnight and the rest of the crew long asleep, you probably would have screamed out of frustration, but the sound of a collapsing bookshelf must have been noise enough to wake the whole ship up. Not you though, because you were the one who couldn't sleep that night, so you went for a nightly stroll to the library to get yourself something to read, hoping it would help you to calm your thoughts and find some sleep soon.

Well, that plan failed obviously.

You step closer to the pile of scattered books. Should you have used the ladder like a normal person instead of climbing the shelf because your monkey brain went "nah I got this"? Probably. When you heard the loud crack, you managed to jump down and stumble a few steps back before the avalanche of books came down within a second.

Robin is gonna be so mad. The library was her treasure, her everything.

Shit. You start picking up some of the books, trying to pile them up at least neatly on the floor, but knock them over again whenever you turn around to grab some more. This was bad. You can feel tears welling up, but you're not sure if they're out of frustration over your own clumsiness or the thought of having to look Robin in the eyes and confess what you did to her favorite place on the Thousand Sunny.

"Oh no. What happened here?"

You spin around and freeze at the sight of Robin in her nightgown, leaning in the doorframe. Her expression is unreadable, but her hand covering her mouth wasn't a good sign probably. Usually you would be beaming over the moon to see her, but right now all you could feel was panic rising up inside of you.

"Robin, I am so sorry, it was an accident, I...", you stammer, head bowed, unable to look her into the eyes. You try to focus on your breathing to calm yourself, but it was already too late. Hot tears are now running down your cheeks, you try to wipe them quickly with the sleeve of your shirt but they just keep on flowing. You felt so guilty.

Over your sniffles you can't hear how Robin steps closer, crouching down next to you and gently rubbing your back. Maybe she was looking for the perfect spot to stab you right here, right now. Which was okay, you probably deserved it. Instead, she wrapped her arms around you from behind, holding you tight. Still crying, you wondered if she decided to switch from stabbing to simply breaking your neck for a cleaner solution since her books were still scattered all over the place.

It took you a few moments to realize that she was actually comforting you which only made you weep more, overwhelmed by her kindness. Being offered forgiveness was a feeling you never experienced before. Why did it hurt so much? Was it because it set your past on fire, the prickling feeling under your skin, the love that feels like taking a deep breath after being underwater for too long?

"It's all good, y/n. Please don't cry. I'm just glad that you're not hurt.", Robin whispers, patting your head. You melt under her touch, calming down a little and turn around to finally face her, still sniffling a little. She gives you a warm smile.

"But... your books! They're your everything! I sorted them with you and it took ages, just for me to tear it all down. I'm so..."

She interrupts you by putting a finger on your mouth, signaling you to stop talking. Her eyes linger on you for a few heartbeats, before she starts speaking again, her voice gentle and calm.

"First of all, you're my everything. I could own all the books in the world and would still feel like something... someone was missing. A broken shelf is something we can fix easily. And if I get to spend more time with you sorting them in, I'm more than happy about it. Please don't beat yourself up over something silly like this. I still love you, okay? You better never forget that. We can tidy up tomorrow, so let's read a bedtime story together for now?"

[fridayisbestday]

Badminton with Mr Weissman.

A continuation of Badminton with Miss Weissman

"Midge, you are a fucking sadist! You know that?"

Lenny hears Joel shout from across the hall, looking up from his paper and placing it down onto the chair next to him, his eyes laid on Midge as she turns and walks towards her court dramatically shrugging her shoulders, knowing that Joel would still be watching her back. His eyes moved back to Joel to see him holding a broken racket with a hopeless expression on his face.

He felt like he missed a part of the action as his eyes followed her figure as she picks up another racket from her bag.

She was absolutely adorable in her badminton outfit, with the pink sleeveless vest like top and those white shorts…he moved his hand to cover his playful smirk, since he promised to be a good boy and play nice with the other kids. But even good boys can be a bit mischievous at times he reasons.

"Any idea what you're watching?" He hears a voice disrupting his bluer thoughts, he followed the voice to find a man around Abe’s age in a green polo shirt and beige shorts, pointing to the chair next to him asking if he could sit there.

Her ass in those shorts he thought as he moved the paper off the chair onto the floor, motioning him to sit. “Nope.” He answered his question as to not scare him away.

"Wanna know?" The guy exhales as he takes a seat.

"Sure." Lenny shrugged, he understood the basics but he’s here to support her, so understanding what’s happening’s probably a good idea.

"They're playing to 21 points." The man begins.

"Wait, 21?!" Lenny exclaimed.

Lenny looks at his watch it’s 4pm, she’s been up since 7 looking after the kids and playing with them all morning, so he looked after the kids this afternoon so she could go to the salon to relax a bit, but going to place filled with Jewish mothers who’s been clawing at her and pushing her to tell them when they’re gonna get married all on her own, wasn’t his brightest idea he acknowledged, to be honest it was a fucking miracle that she’s still standing.

"Yep." He simply replies.

"Shit." Lenny breathes surprisingly as he drags his hand across his face.

"Don't worry she's good." He said as Midge picks up the shuttlecock from the floor with the racket. He moved his hand over his mouth as he felt a soft smile start to spread across his face.

The guy continues to explain the rules to him, how the racket head can’t be above waist level during the serve etc, then Midge plays a shot that made the shuttlecock fly from the end of the court to the other, making Mei run back to play a smash (as he’s been told it’s called) from the back of the court with a scary swooshing sound he did not like, Midge lunges forward and easily returns it back with a simple backhanded block of sorts that made the shuttlecock trickle over the net in one swift motion as if she was expecting it. Winning the point.

"Holy shit." Lenny could simply say at the sceptical.

"Told you she was good." The man said almost proudly.

"Well yes, I just…didn't expect her to be this good." He said honestly, like he expected her to be able to hold her own, but not disrespectfully good. “Christ.” She mopping the fucking floor with Mei.

"She's got some scary reaction time." He commented, "Played against her once years ago, before all of this,” he patted his belly, “and let me tell you, she's bloody terrifying when she’s actually trying." He faked a shiver.

“Wait this is her on easy mode?” Lenny took a double take before watching his girlfriend do a…thing with a swooshing sound, how did she do that with her back turned?! Her eyes wasn’t even on the shuttlecock.

“That’s a backhanded overhead shot, one of more difficult ones,” he informs him, “I taught her that, only took her 20 minutes to get it down to a T.”

The man continues to commentate during the match until the mid game intermission.

Lenny leaves the older man and walks up to his girlfriend, wrapping his arms around her waist from behind and pressing a kiss on each cheek before starting to massage her back and showering her with more kisses where ever he could find skin, her neck, shoulders, her ears which made her giggle.

"Lenny, not that I'm complaining but, what did I do?" She turned her head to meet his eyes.

"Oh nothing, I just didn't realise how fucking terrifying you were." He quips as he continued to massage her back.

"I'm not terrifying." She states in mocked offence.

"You got 11 points in 17 minutes with the 'shitty' racket, or so I've been told—"

"Fucking Joel—”She crossed her arms.

"—Who’s been scared shitless for the last 20 minutes. Don't you see him crying in that sad little corner over there, and why is he trying to glue the fucking thing back together?" He points over to Joel who is carefully trying to glue the racket back together, but every time he picks it up the racket bends back into its broken state.

Midge smirks evilly at the mention, "Well, maybe it’s ‘cause I told him that, if it was still broken by the end of the match, he's sitting in between Susie and Noah during dinner tonight."

He barks out a laugh, "Shit." He breaths out with a trace of a smirk of his own, then it finally clicks, "it's not something glue can fix, is it?" He added playfully.

"No. It is not.” She states matter of factly, he can see her evil smirk widen, “It’s something that can’t be fixed.”

He laughs before closing his eyes and tips his head onto the back of her neck, laying a tender kiss there, “You, sweetheart, are a fucking monster.”

“And you love me.” He felt her cheeks relax into a soft smile.

“And I am utterly helpless for you.” He said, pressing another kiss on her back, feeling her shoulders shake as a soft chuckle escapes from her lips.

[pugh-bug]

Scott Lang x Reader Chapter 13

This chapter follows directly on from chapter 12 I REALLY need to make a master list I know. Ended up way longer than I expected but I hope you enjoy! :)) and let me know if you want to be added to my tag list <3

Warnings: smut, age gap, swearing as fucking always

‘Oh fuck,’ his eyelids fluttered as he rode into you. You wanted to take his shirt off and take all of him in but the pleasure was keeping you lay down. Scott felt your walls tightening as you struggled to decide where to look and what to do with your hands. He seemed to sense the indecision because in a surprisingly wholesome twist, Scott’s hand found its way in your hair before caressing your cheek. All you could hear was both of your heavier breaths matching each other’s rhythms. You’d known before (and of course said before) that you loved Scott but having him look at you with such compassion in bed made you know for certain.

You both let the pause continue but Scott’s impatience was obvious, despite him trying to hide it for your sake. ‘You’re wearing too many clothes,’ you finally said before smirking up at him. The atmosphere took an instant shift as the two of you fought with the fabric and felt it rip off of his chest. And oh fucking hell was the sight of Scott shirtless a treat. You knew he worked out, Tony had a gym everyone used for training, but you never knew he had actual ab muscles. Scott chuckled as he watched you stare at them in awe. Fuck fuck fuck. You couldn’t believe what was happening.

Scott’s finger below your chin guided your gaze back to his green eyes. There was no hesitation after that. As the two of you kissed with lust filled ferocity, you postured up and pushed down on Scott’s shoulders so you could sit in his lap. You tried to continue devouring each other’s taste but the sound that slipped from you as you sank down onto him was pornographic and distracting as hell. You rode him slowly because after such a long wait why not tease him? He could have made this happen ages ago. Selfish of him really.

‘Jesu-fuck Y/N,’ the poor man struggled to keep his head facing you and not back looking at the ceiling. ‘You feel amazing,’ you couldn’t help but beam at his praise. After spending so many nights touching yourself to the fantasy of riding him, having it happen in real life was overwhelming. His large hands gripped your waist while you continued your torment of slowly filling yourself up and down. You didn’t want this to just become another memory in the past that would never happen again. Scott’s firm hands digging into your waist brought you away from the nagging thoughts. ‘Fuck you’re so tight.’ He felt so good it was driving you insane. As he hit your g-spot dangerously slowly you let out a whine.

‘You..can go,’ he already sounded wrecked which made you smug as anything. ‘Faster than that Y/N.’ His eyes were closed but you were determined to keep yours open to look at his face. The obvious pleasure he was feeling. You decided to oblige him and speed up, never once did his cock grazing your g spot not send wonderful shivers down your spine. Your face felt hot- your whole body was on fire.

It was your turn to throw your head back. No one had made you feel as high as Scott, not even close. The man was fucking addictive.

All you could focus on was the full feeling you had in your stomach, Scott’s wrecked voice and his firm grip on your waist. Part of you wished they were around your neck. Maybe next time. ‘Scotttttt….’ you moaned. He fucking adored hearing you moan and hearing you say his name was going to send him over the edge. You wanted to see it. With desperate, yet shaky hands, you thought about crawling his back but it felt forced for a moment. Once again he sensed your minor uncertainty and handled it for you. ‘Come here,’ his voice was husky but breathless as he pulled you into a kiss while you rode him faster and faster.

Your walls were tightening and your toes began to curl on the bedsheets but you felt a sudden impulse to move so you pulled him on top of you. It broke the kiss but it meant on Scott’s next thrust you felt him even deeper and a prolonged moan left your open mouth as you came. Your eyes closed and your body jerked and writhed underneath Scott’s panting chest. He didn’t move for a moment, completely lost in witnessing you enjoy every second of your orgasm. It hit you in waves that felt endless for a moment before your entire body stopped its uncontrollable writhing that pushed Scott over the edge.

He came inside you and, for a moment, almost lost balance. You were so in shock from the huge mass of pleasure you’d just felt that your chest was rising and falling heavier than it did after a run. That orgasm had hit you like a brick. You struggled to sit up as you felt Scott, to your surprise, move down your body. How did he have any energy left? You were exhausted.

One more feeble attempt to sit up was not needed because Mr Scott Lang had decided to surprise you by inserting his fingers in your pussy and smugly licking your clit. Without the much needed warning. ‘Ah- too sensitive!’ You squealed, backing away from Scott on the bed to escape. He was definitely amused. ‘You okay over there?’ Wow. After the sounds he had made?! He was going to make you out to be overwhelmed? However his confident side made you wet and you were not one to complain after sex so:

‘I’m great.’ You smiled coyly and closed your legs as if you weren’t leaking his cum all over the bed and just there to talk. Scott smiled and made his way back over to you like a panther on some sort of sick hunt. ‘You’re trouble.’ He responded, almost judging but still humorous. When you didn’t respond you saw his face change to show some insecurity about his actions. ‘Are you already regrett-‘

‘I regret not getting you to slam me against a wall to be honest.’ You hugged your knees, your breath had returned to normal and you were grinning at Scott like a cat that had gotten its own way. Finally.

‘Well shit,’ he paused with his hand on his forehead and a raise of his eyebrows. ‘That can be arranged.’

Yes but not now, you thought, too tired for that. Must sleep. Must lie down.

The bed, despite being wet, was so inviting and Scott following your lead and wrapping his arms around your waist even more so. You felt safe next to him. At peace. You heard Scott’s breathing normalise but neither one of you spoke. There was no awkwardness like you’d feared and apart from the horrible intrusive thought ‘Am I better or worse than his ex wife’ you felt calm and… happy. Really happy. Tentatively, Scott’s hands found themselves stroking your hair. He ran his fingers through it gently and you smiled and closed your eyes. The smell of sex had filled the room but your arousal was somehow being overpowered by the calm. And there was one question you were curious about.

‘How long for you?’

You expected a brief silence or atleast a ‘Huh’ due to your vagueness but Scott just knew exactly what you’d meant.

‘Atleast a year,’ you quietly turned to face him so he knew he had your full attention. ‘But I really knew when you came to comfort me, on my anniversary.’ You couldn’t help but raise your eyebrows and scoff. ‘You mean when I came to annoy you on the roof?’ Scott’s smirk grew into a full grin at you. ‘And why is that so surprising?’ To be quite honest you’d felt like an intrude that night and not much help to him at all but it was nice to know he felt differently. He looked so pretty lay opposite you, your hands found their way into his hair ruffling it even more. ‘I don’t know.’ You lied.

‘What about you?’ It was his turn to play with your hair again. Oh that was easy. Too easy. ‘First day I met you,’ it was growing harder to look Scott in the eye as you admitted it. ‘I kept thinking about y- I only ever asked you dumb questions as an excuse to talk to you until- well until we were friends.’ He was listening intently which you were not used to men doing. “Were?” Scott questioned knowingly, he waited for your response and you could practically see his ego growing by the second. Of course ‘were’.

‘Well would you call this friendship?’ You laughed, gesturing to the two of you in bed slightly sweaty from moments earlier. After a second too long for your liking passed your eyes widened at the sight of Scott’s hoodie on the floor. You’d forgot he’d brought it with him and it looked comfy as anything. ‘Hold on I’ve always wanted to do this,’ you grinned excitedly like a little kid and Scott watched you in amusement. Struggling for a moment, you pulled the black hoodie over your head (because your hair wasn’t messy enough already) and gestured proudly to your new (stolen) outfit. It smelt like him which just made you giddier.

‘You’ve never slept with a guy and stolen his hoodie before?’ Scott raised his eyebrows clearly not believing you or understanding the appeal. ‘They’ve been out the fucking door too fast.’ You shrugged trying not to let that harsh fact sink in. Oh well. You were feeling good now at least. Scott frowned but once again you couldn’t help but not wait for his reply- just in case it hurt you in some way and brought your high down. ‘Kinda hungry not gonna lie.’ You hadn’t even eaten yet but that wasn’t what you were really thinking about as you stood over Scott as he sat on the bed.

Slyly, he ran his calloused hands under his hoodie and up your torso making you gasp. He couldn’t help but grin at the strong reactions you had to his mild touches. Deciding to really tease you, Scott’s hand traveled down to your pussy so he could finger you but being overstimulated you whined and grabbed his wrist. The man just thought you sounded pretty. ‘Fuck- you’re dripping sweetheart.’ You grinned once again at his words and clenched your thighs together. ‘Who’s fault is that?’

Tags: @supraveng @thottio @wandamaximoffshoe @aliceblxck @merleisapartygod @brianmayscurls

[ofpineapplesanddawns]

I’m thinking about Arthur and Peter as a ship again, so here’s a little drabble of these two getting ready for a date night for my one au.

On with the fic!

--

“Are you almost done in there?” Peter heard Arthur call from the other side of the bathroom door. 

“Just about...” Peter replied as he carefully finished with the lip liner. He really didn’t need it, but damn if it didn’t work well with the color he was planning on wearing tonight. 

And hopefully Arthur would be wearing at the end of the night, all over his neck and much lower if the night went where Peter hoped it did.

Date night, a concept that Peter hadn’t practiced in ages, since his usual relationships involved parties, raves, and just getting down and dirty in bed. But Arthur was classy, he served to be treated to a nice dinner, a night out, not something seedy with colorful drinks and things Peter probably shouldn’t put into his mouth.

So, Peter found himself doing his makeup, wearing one of his nicer outfits (if you consider fashionably torn, 450 dollar skinny jeans, his best boots, and a button up with blood red gems for the buttons as a nice outfit), and with his hair done artfully messy. 

It wasn’t exactly Arthur’s style, the man was old-fashion, for fuck’s sake, he actually liked to wear bow ties outside of his work uniform, but Peter was trying. He really liked the guy, but that didn’t mean he was going to change his whole style for someone, which Arthur understood and felt the same about himself.

Still, it was gonna be nice, they were going to this really cool, new place where you ate meals in the dark and had some sort of flavor experience. Peter swore he saw that on a show years ago, though it was an American crime show so someone obviously died in the dark, he doubted that would happen tonight. Peter was always armed with a weapon in case of vampires, so he could take on some asshole if he had to. 

Peter finished with his lipstick and looked at himself, high fashion goth, that’s a good look, totally. He nodded at his reflection and opened the door, finding Arthur waiting outside, dressed in a nice outfit, clean and pressed shirt, a sharp dinner coat, and pressed pants, along with a red bow tie that matched Peter’s gems.

Total opposites, but Peter liked that. He leaned against the doorway, hand on his hip, a lazy smirk on his painted lips. “So? Am I good enough to take out for dinner?”

Arthur looked him up and down, eyes wide, his cheeks dusted in pink. “Forgive me if it’s rude, but I’m tempted to skip dinner and get right to dessert if you’re going to look like this.”

The comment caught Peter off-guard and he nearly slipped off the doorframe, his face burning. “F-for fuck’s sake, Arthur! Stop being a smooth bastard!”

“Not happening.” Arthur smiled, holding out his arm. “Shall we? We have reservations, no?”

“Yeah, uh, let’s get goin’, you’re gonna love this.” Peter took his arm, jeez, he really could be a gentleman when he wanted to be.

“Oh, I’m sure I will.” Arthur said in a way that made Peter trip over his feet.