#i am unbelievably excited to post this

[mrsaltieri-real]

His Perfect Victim (Mickey Altieri x OC!Dahlia Levine)

Chapter One: One Door Closes

Okay SO!!! I have been working on making this a series for such a long time and after a lot of trial and error it’s FINALLY in the works and the first chapter is DONE. It’s a lot shorter than the ones to come but it’s a good starting point I think!

Depending on how long you’ve been here you may no I did a one-shot for this fic a long ass time ago called Darling Dahlia. Well, I’ve changed the name but this is it! The first chapter! I wanna give a huge massive thank you to @bisexual-horror-fan for not only editing and beta reading the first chapter but for giving me the motivation to finally bring Dahlia to life after so many months of me getting so annoyed and frustrated at my lack of progress. THANK YOU DUDE!

Word count: Almost 1.5k

Warnings: The whole fic will be rated explicit, language, teasing, trauma, mentions of the Woodsbro murders, death (yes already but don’t worry!) Mickey being a complete ass, Dahlia being an ass right back to him

Dahlia’s face claim is below!

Here we go! Chapter One!

You know them times where it seems like absolutely everything goes wrong all at once? You fail a test, forget to defrost the fucking chicken or your cousin decides to go on a murder spree all within the same day?

All three of these things happened to me. It’s easy to guess which hit hardest.

I can still see Stu’s hesitant eyes looking down at me as his accomplice and best friend Billy brought his blade down to my stomach, plunging it deep inside of me. I didn’t cry, I didn’t scream. I accepted the pain, I welcomed the darkness and just waited for it to be over. I see both of their faces every time I close my eyes, in every single dream I’ve had. Billy’s expression of pure undiluted concentration and Stu’s sad and torn blue eyes dragging themselves away from me as the knife imbedded into my torso.

The only things I know that happened after are what Sidney and Randy told me. Sid had managed to single-handedly kill them both, putting an end to the series of grisly murders they had committed and calling the police. I remember waking up in the hospital, parents sobbing at my bedside, telling me that I had in fact been legally dead for three minutes. I remember Stu’s parents visiting and my mom screaming at her brother to “Get the fuck out!”.

I remember Sid and Randy telling me that Billy and Stu had killed Tatum.

But despite all of it, I felt nothing. It was like after Billy stabbed me and I’d died, the part of me actually being able to feel things went along with it. In a way it was good. It meant the betrayal of my own flesh and blood didn’t hurt me as much as it hurt the rest of my family, my parents completely cut themselves off from my aunt and uncle after everything, not wanting to associate themselves with the Macher name. It was obvious this was for the sake of appearances and of course, their image. We were a well off family, not because my parents worked hard but because Stu and I’s grandparents were ridiculously wealthy and left just about everything to our respective parents.

But none of that mattered when I stepped foot in Windsor College. When I met him.

Everything changed in an instant. Leaving Woodsbro behind with two of my best friends and finally finding someone I could bear my soul too I was a whole new person. I got feeling back, I could feel again. It was the perfect time for all of us to reinvent ourselves and be happy again, new life, new friends, new boyfriends.

It was like the moment I laid eyes on Mickey something inside of me snapped back into place and began to heal me. It took a long time, a painfully long time for me to want to accept the fact that I wanted him. Part of me wishes I’d given into it sooner, soaked up every last part of the version of him I’d known at the time to be true whilst the more rational side wishes I’d never stepped foot onto this campus, never let him touch me, never let him know me. Everything about him was just magnetic and looking back at it now, that should have been the first of many red flags. No one can be that charismatic, that charming and not be hiding something dark and sinister, there is just no way.

But I’m getting ahead of myself. Let me tell you about the first time I met Mickey Altieri.

“I think this will be good for you, you know? Make some new friends, start to move on.” Sid had her fingers wrapped around my wrist, tugging me gently over to her small circle of friends all sat crowded in the college square.

“I don’t need to make new friends. I’m fine by myself.” Of course I appreciated her concern for me, but I was getting really tired of being told what I needed to do. If I wanted to be alone, why couldn’t I be alone?

“Dahlia,” Sid abruptly stopped walking, turning to face me with those goddamned brown eyes looking down at me imploringly, “it’s been months. We all need to at least try and move on, you know?”

“I know, Sid.” I sighed a little, eyes nervously flickering up to the three people sitting perched on the bench, Randy luckily amongst them. I smiled a little as I saw him eagerly wave at Sidney and I, beckoning us over. “Just…” I struggled to hold her gaze, voice dropping to be a bit quieter, as if lowering the volume would make the admission and subsequent minor vulnerability easier to push out, “It’s hard.”

Sid’s expression turned sympathetic, her hand moving to grasp mine. Sidney has good hands, strong, grounding, firm yet soft, just like her. She speaks again, “I know, Dahlia. But I really think this could help. They’re all great, very understanding and they won’t push you to talk about…Well, what happened.”

“God, fine.” I mumbled and she nodded, looking just slightly smug as she gently tugged me closer to the group.

A chorus of “Hey, Sid” was uttered before Sid introduced me. “Dahlia, this is Derek, Hallie and Mickey. Guys, this is Dahlia.”

I couldn’t help but smile a little awkwardly as my eyes scanned the tight knit group. Randy was looking at me encouragingly and Sidney squeezed my hand a little.

I said nothing.

I still felt nothing.

Great.

Even then, I subconsciously noticed that Mickey was staring at me a little too hard. He was sitting with his back leaning against the wall with his foot propped up on the bench, toying with a video camera in his hand as he gave me a quick and not at all subtle once over. Despite the zombie-like trance I’d been in for the last few months, it made the blood rush to my cheeks and lightly stain them.

I mean, I wasn’t stupid. He was ridiculously good looking. His dark hair stuck up a little, he was toned and the thin fabric of his sweater clung to his body in a way that made it almost painful to look away and his brown eyes were just so…Full.

Full of mirth and life and so much I don’t think I could actually list it all. When was the last time I felt that full? Had I ever, even before that night? In his eyes I could see the excitement and wonder in them from where I stood and it was oddly enticing, I focused on that as opposed to my usual depressing internal monologue.

He managed to ruin my little initial fascination with him in about three seconds.

“Oh! You’re the chick who died, right, I- ow!” I watched as the girl, Hallie, darted out her hand and smacked Mickey upside of the head, “Jesus, what?”

“You can’t just say something like that to someone, God you’re an ass.” The mild disgust on her face twists to an apologetic smile as she continued on, “ I apologise for Mickey, he has zero fucking tact.” Hallie’s expression turned warmer as she was moving up the bench to make room. Out of the corner of my eye I saw Mickey roll his eyes a little before he settled his gaze back onto me.

“No, no it’s fine. Yeah, I am. Glad that’s so interesting to you Michael.”

He cocked an eyebrow at me, an amused smile cracking on his face. “Mickey.” He corrected me, sounding amused as he did so.

I held back a scoff as I told him, “Yeah, sure. Whatever.”

That was the first time I ever spoke directly to him. I can’t help but imagine how things would be now if I never bothered, never got so captivated with the way he’d look at me all through the rest of the day and every single day after.

It was never creepy, far from it. Instead it was almost as though he knew something I knew, like he knew me already.

Little did I know he did know me. He knew every single thing about me.

Chapter Two HERE

[demegod-dess]

The way the new Sonic x Shadow Generations trailer had me literally shaking I'm so. I'm just. I'm. I.

[vanillaboyfriend]

visited the subreddit. regret

[clowningaroundmars]

just got my phone in da maaaiillll :3

i looove her omg

[bookwyrminspiration]

hey (getting ready to post the final chapter of the wings au, the finally completed epilogue, if you even care)

[hall0wedwyrm]

amazing and crazy Shadow leak aside

GENUINELY PLEASE play Sonic Generations too!!!

it's not a very deep game or anything but it's a great trip through the ages of Sonic and visits places from Classic games (Green Hill and Chemical Plant) plus places from more modern games like Crisis City (Sonic 06) and Rooftop Run (Unleashed)

it's got tons of challenge stages too. like each stage has a set of challenges and then there's the rival battles with Shadow, Silver and Metal.

Generations is a fun little game that holds a place in my heart... so I just really hope people play it if they haven't already!! (or replay it there's plenty of time tbh)

[kayawolfhorse]

New Crane Wives album coming in Sept… watch me die

[glorfindelssword]

Played volleyball and then ran a mile today .do not do this

[deus-ipsum]

I am so happy and excited to finally post some art! I've been busy with school and every time I get a chance to draw I just can't, either because art block or because I'm tired. I also haven't been paying much attention to Ghost lately, but thankfully my mind has shifted to only thinking about that now. Hopefully you all enjoy this drawing because I am unbelievably proud of it!

[norrisainz33]

Bittersweet || LN4

☆ summary: you, lando’s long time partner, attend the 2024 hungarian gp and have some strong feelings afterwards

☆ pairing: lando norris x reader

☆ fc: none

☆ warnings: slightly suggestive - you control the content you consume.

୨୧┈୨୧

yourusername made a post

liked by landonorris, oscarpiastri, maxverstappen1, and 670,897 others

yourusername: date night before hungary

view all 457 comments

landonorris: my gorgeous girl 🤤

yourusername: my handsome man 🤤

user1: i want you both

mclaren: looking forward to seeing you in Hungary y/n!

lilyzneimer: marry me

yourusername: i’ve already got the rings 💍

landonorris: whoa whoa whoa

oscarpiastri: landonorris no point fighting it anymore mate

user2: lando is gonna COOK in austria

oscarpiastri: where was my invite

yourusername: we had dinner with you the night before oscy

oscpiastri: so ???? instagram post or it didn’t happen

user6: OSCY?! NEW NICKNAME ALERT

User7: i love how y/n and lando keep making up new nicknames for oscar

user3: ln4 domination

landonorris made a post

likes by yourusername, mclaren, oscarpiastri, and 709,856 others

landonorris: Pole and P2 for Osc. Babaooooom

view all 670 comments

user2: LETS GO LANDO

user3: THATS MY GOAT

yourusername: you are incredible lan. let’s get that p1 tomorrow baby

landonorris: gonna get that win 💪🏻

yourusername: LANDOSCAR FRONT ROW LOCK OUT LETS GO

user11: y/n is the president of landoscar nation

user3: LANDO AND OSCAT SUPREMACY

oscarpiastri: there’s gonna be a front row lock out tomorrow too 😉

mclaren: so proud of you both 🧡

yourusername added to their story

[story 1: woke up excited for a lando masterclass 🧡]

view story replies

landonorris: oh i wanna get back in that bed with you

yourusername: you’ve got a race to win first 😈

landonorris: ok 😔

landonorris: btw get your butt over to the garage i want a kiss before the race

yourusername: on my way 😫

lilyzneimer: cheer on our boys for me 🧡

yourusername: i wish you were here but i’ll cheer enough for the both of us 🧡

lilyzneimer: i have a good feeling about today

yourusername: im crossing all my fingers

logansargeant: don’t forget about the incoming logan masterclass

yourusername: how could i forget! you’re gonna do great too rahhhhhh 🦅🇺🇸🦅🇺🇸🦅🇺🇸🦅🇺🇸

yourusername has made a post

liked by logansargeant, maxverstappen1, lilyzneimer, and 890,746 others

yourusername: lando, i am so unbelievably proud of you and the man that you are. you consistently give it your all and give this team everything even when they don’t deserve it. you are an unstoppable force - i love you

oscar, congratulations on your first of so many race wins. you’re going to be champion one day, i know it

mclaren, i’m in your walls 🧡

view all 1,256 comments

user14: admin about to throw y/n’s phone out the window between this and her tweets

user15: YOU TELL THEM Y/N

landonorris: i love you 🤍

yourusername: i love you more 🤍

user16: your honor y/n is an icon

user18: never thought a mclaren 1 - 2 would feel like this

oscarpiastri: thank you, y/n 🧡

mclaren: y/n, please answer your phone

yourusername: no 🧡

user14: oh she’s about to get cooked

user16: free my girl she ain’t do nothing wrong

yourusername posted a story

୨୧┈୨୧

☆ a/n: today was bittersweet so i decided to write about it. don’t get it twisted tho i am so happy for oscar!!

☆ likes and reblogs appreciated!

୨୧┈୨୧

© norrisainz33: please do not rewrite, translate, or copy any of my works posted here on to any other platform

[iholdwhatican]

reunions

pairing: art donaldson x reader x patrick zweig

read part 2 here!

length: 3.8k

tags: y/n is art donaldson's wife ; birthday party ; surprise visit from patrick ; art is down bad ; patrick wants y/n ; possessive!art ; the boys are fighting ; no use of y/n ; pining ; sexual tension

summary: you want to make your husband's birthday special, so you invite his attractive, charming, estranged childhood best friend in the hopes that they'll make amends. surely nothing will go wrong, right?

author's note: i can't stop thinking about them i am so ill. this is the first of presumably many challengers works. and yes i did make a new blog just for this, don't judge me. this is a drabble that was stuck in my head but I do have more for it should it be wanted! preferably something that leaves you sandwiched in between them :3

originally posted by iholdwhatican

You told yourself this whole thing happened out of the goodness of your heart. You’d just wanted to be a good wife and make your husband’s birthday the best it could possibly be. Because Art Donaldson was the most amazing person you’d ever known, and he loved you, and he deserved the world. There was nothing off limits when it came to him, no line you wouldn’t cross. 

You knew how much Patrick had meant to him, how much he missed his best friend. Your cheeks hurt from how wide the stories made you smile, how happy he sounded when he recounted the things he’d gotten into with the eccentric tennis player. And you knew how sad Art was that they didn’t talk anymore. 

So what better time to remedy that than for his birthday? That was a wonderful surprise, right? Right?

Upon meeting Patrick Zweig, your first thought was how the hell this man got along so well with your Art. Not to say he was a bad person, but he was just so… much. He was cocky, indomitable, the kind of person that knew what he wanted and what he was worth and wouldn’t settle for anything less. He was a force not to be reckoned with, no matter what. He was also unbelievably charming (and not bad on the eyes, which you would never admit), and you hated the way his sweet-talking got under your skin. 

He asked you how Art was. You told him he was fine. Retired, now. Making the most of a quiet life. You’d just celebrated 3 years of married life. He asked to see wedding photos and you didn’t miss the sadness in his eyes at missing the event. You happily obliged. It was the most romantic day of your life, after all. 

And you couldn’t help but internally pat yourself on the back. Patrick missed him too. You could mend the broken bridge between them, and your husband would be thrilled. He’d reward you for your good work. 

You asked Patrick to come to Art’s party. To make contact again. To come back into his world. He only hesitated for a moment, asked if Art knew and was okay with it. 

The lie slipped off your tongue easily. Of course, he’s wanted this for a long time. It’s a surprise, but a most welcome one. You didn’t have details on what happened between them- only knew of a falling out while Art was in college- but it couldn’t be that bad. Anything could be overcome, right? 

Patrick accepted and you hoped the lump in your throat was from excitement and not dread. You thanked him for meeting you, told him you’d forward him the details, and went back to your husband. 

The day of the party came, and you were so nervous you could hardly take it. You’d spent the last couple of days working yourself into a frenzy, convinced that this reunion was a terrible idea and your husband would hate you. You had no right to bring an estranged friend back into his life, on his birthday no less. And without saying a word to him. 

God, what the hell was wrong with you? 

You gripped the edge of the kitchen counter and downed your third glass of water. It did nothing to soothe the dryness in your throat. Or the pounding of your heart. You wondered how fucked you’d be at the party if you took a Xanax right now. Or five. 

Just then, Art peeked his head into the kitchen, donning a sweet smile when he spotted you. He looked as handsome as ever, sporting a well-fitting polo shirt and khakis. His hair was growing out again, starting to show those boyish curls you’d fallen in love with all those years ago. He made his way over to you, wedding band sparkling on his finger, and your heart melted. 

You loved him so much. Had you ruined his birthday with your stupid meddling? Maybe even ruined your marriage? 

“Hey, beautiful.” He greeted, sliding a hand around your waist and kissing your head. It was a familiar gesture, a normal one. He loved touching you, keeping you close. You loved it just as much, “The cake was just delivered. You went way overboard, as usual.” 

You pretended you weren’t overcome with dread and cupped his cheek, “Shut up. There’s no such thing as overboard. You deserve this, okay? You deserve to be celebrated.” 

Please, please don’t be mad at me for inviting him. For bringing him into our world. Please still love me. I did it for you. I’d do anything for you.

His eyes crinkled as he smiled- in that perfect way you adored so much. He leaned down to kiss you again, this time on your lips. It was gentle and caring and everything you were to each other. It made you want to cry. Art was everything. All you wanted was to give him the same. 

The doorbell rang, breaking you two out of the moment, and your husband pulled away. He tucked a strand of hair behind your ear. 

“Well,” He spoke, looking at you like there was nothing else in the world, “That must be our first guest.” 

You hummed happily, “Guess it’s time to celebrate you, Birthday Boy. Shall we?” 

“We shall.” He teased, doing a mock bow as he offered you his hand. You took it, laughing, and the two of you made your way to the front door. 

You took a deep breath and tried not to focus on the unhappy way your stomach was churning. 

The first hour of the party went by with a pleasant lack of reunions-turned-altercations. Patrick had yet to show his face, and you wondered if he might not come at all. Part of you was relieved at the idea, while the other couldn’t help but be frustrated. 

He said he would come. What if the surprise didn’t end up being a bad thing? How would you know if he never showed? 

God, you needed a cigarette. 

You’d spent the entirety of the party so far glued to Art’s side, being his doting wife as you made conversation with everyone. Your eyes continued to stray to the door, looking for a certain dark-haired man. Every single time, you were disappointed. Disappointed, yes, but not surprised. From what you’d heard, Patrick wasn’t really someone who could be counted on a lot. 

Maybe this whole thing was just a big mistake. And maybe the part of you that truly felt let down at not getting to see him again was something you should never, never look into. 

You patted Art’s chest and stood on your tiptoes to whisper in his ear, “I’m gonna check on the food. I’ll be back.” 

He nodded, smiled, and pressed a kiss to your temple. His arm released its grip on you and he continued his conversation with an old Stanford buddy without missing a beat. He was fucking incredible. At everything. You were crazy about him. 

The food didn’t actually need to be checked on. The caterer was high-quality, and they knew better than to fuck up one of your events for your husband. You had full trust in them- you honestly just needed a breather. This whole night had felt like a cold fist clenched around your heart. 

Instead, you grabbed yourself a large glass of wine and made your way to the patio to enjoy some cool night air. 

The area was blessedly empty, allowing you to slip out of the hostess facade. You were more than happy to do it, especially when celebrating Art, but the circumstances tonight were making it much harder than usual. Which was, of course, entirely your own fault. Way to go, you! Knocked it out of the park tonight, didn’t you? 

You sighed, leaned against the railing, and took a long gulp of your drink. The weather was slightly chilly, and it felt amazing against your heated skin. Already, you were finding it easier to breathe. And think, for that matter. 

“Shouldn’t you be at the party, Mrs. Donaldson?” A familiar, spine-tingling voice spoke, breaking you out of your peaceful moment. 

You whirled around, eyes landing on Patrick fucking Zweig leaning against the wall of your house. A lit cigarette hung from his lips, his hands nonchalantly tucked into the pockets of his dark jeans. They went well with the button-up shirt he wore, a stark contrast from the shorts and hoodie he’d had on when you first met. He looked good- really good. Enough to make a pit grow in your stomach. 

“I thought you weren’t coming.” You blurted out, thankful that the darkness was shrouding your red face. His face was just barely illuminated by the orange glow of the cigarette, and you watched as he looked you up and down, “Also, how’d you get back here? I didn’t see you walk into the house.” 

Patrick kicked off the wall and walked over to you, pulling the cigarette out of his mouth. His curls fell over his forehead, and you found yourself fighting the urge to brush them out of the way- the same way you always did to Art. You swallowed deeply. What the hell was wrong with you? 

“I told you I’d come, didn’t I?” He responded matter-of-factly, blowing a puff of smoke into the air. The smell made you nostalgic. You and Art had made a pact years ago to quit together, but God did you miss it sometimes. You licked your lips and tried (and failed) not to stare, “I snuck in through the back. Thought it’d be less messy that way.” 

You had no idea how he’d been able to get back here, but you decided you weren’t gonna ask. It didn’t matter in the long run, anyway. Besides, he was probably right. You had no idea how Art was gonna react, and it was smart to have it happen in an isolated area. 

“Probably smart.” You muttered, taking another swig of the wine. The feeling of his eyes stayed on you, burning into your skin, but you didn’t meet his gaze. You didn’t want to think too hard on why. 

“He doesn’t know you reached out to me.” It wasn’t a question, but you responded to Patrick’s words regardless. He’d find out eventually. 

“No.” The admittance came out with a heavy breath, like you were releasing the weight that had been on you all night. In a way, you were. You ran a hand over your forehead, “I don’t know what happened between you two, he doesn’t talk about it. But I just- I’m terrified he’ll hate me for bringing you.” 

Why the hell were you pouring your heart out to this stranger? What was it about him that drew you in so much and made you want to bring down your walls? How was this charming man already under your skin from one damn meeting? And how the fuck were you supposed to explain any of this to your husband, his estranged best friend? 

You needed another drink. Or ten. 

“You really love him.” Again, not a question. But you answered. You had to. 

“More than anything else in this world.” 

Patrick offered you his half-smoked cigarette and you took it without thinking. The sting of the smoke in your lungs was like coming home. It was so good it almost made you cry. But lots of things made you want to cry right now. You could taste mint on the cigarette, like he’d been chewing gum before lighting up. The same kind Art always chewed. 

It made something flip in your stomach. 

“Well, from what I can tell, you’re pretty great. Super caring, based on how far you went in an attempt to make him happy. Shit, you tracked me down, which is a feat in itself. And you’re gorgeous, obviously. I’m surmising that you’re basically the whole package.” He spoke calmly, as if every one of those words didn’t make your heart jump into your throat. You chugged your drink to use it as an excuse for your rosy cheeks, “So I don’t think there’s any way he could hate you. Even for inviting me here.” 

You were speechless for five long seconds as he took the cigarette back and inhaled. Then you finally got your brain to stop lagging, “You don’t even know me.” 

“I know enough.” He countered, continuing the pass back and forth of the cigarette, “And I know Art. He wouldn’t marry someone beneath him. The fucker somehow always gets the ones way out of his league.” 

You didn’t comment, but you knew what Patrick was referring to. Tashi Duncan. The now pro-tennis player that he’d had a thing with back in the day. You didn’t know the details, but you knew she was a point of contention between the two men. 

Honestly, you tried not to think about Tashi. She was gorgeous, super talented, and an overall seemingly great person. Art had passed up on that for you, and it got to your head a lot. You wondered if he regretted it. Or at least wondered what his life could’ve been like. 

You didn’t think you were out of his league. In fact, you thought the opposite. Not that you needed to tell Patrick that. Your insecurity and jealousy issues could stay yours alone. 

“Well, I don’t know about that.” You murmured.

The cigarette began to dim as you took the last drag, flicking it off the balcony and down into the grass below. With both the alcohol and nicotine gone, you started to think you probably needed to get back to the party. Your husband would be looking for you, and you didn’t want to keep him waiting. You just had to figure out how Patrick would fit into the equation. 

“If you weren’t taken, I’d be trying to charm the fuck out of you right now.” 

The statement caught you completely off guard. You looked over at him, eyes wide, and tried to keep your cool at the sexy smirk on his face. God, he was so fucking attractive. 

You blinked once, twice, a third time, “What?” 

His smile grew at your flustered state, “I have great taste in women, and I’d flirt with you if I could. So I’m saying you’re definitely a catch. And totally out of Art’s league.” 

You licked your lips. Subconsciously, “I’m pretty sure that was flirting.” 

“Was it?” He didn’t even have the decency to look ashamed, “Oops.” 

You ran your finger over the rim of your wine glass, trying to think of something to say. You came up empty. You were married- to this man’s childhood best friend. To the love of your life. He shouldn’t be flirting with you. And you definitely shouldn’t be enjoying it. 

“There you are! I was starting to worry.” Art’s voice broke the tense silence, and you turned around to watch him making his way to you with a smile. Then he spotted Patrick and his smile dropped as his face filled with recognition, “You- what the hell are you doing here?” 

You opened your mouth to speak, to explain and mediate the situation, but the dark-haired man beat you to it. 

“Your pretty little wife invited me.” He said, which was probably the worst thing he probably could’ve chosen. You internally buried your face in your hands. 

Art’s jaw clenched and his eyes lit up. It took you a moment to realize that the expression was anger. Honestly, it took you by surprise. It was extremely rare to see him angry, and never was it directed at you. And though he was looking at Patrick, you were terrified that in this instance it was. 

“Let me explain.” You immediately choked out, clutching your empty wine glass like a lifeline, “I really just thought that-” 

“She thought you missed me and wanted us to reconnect. As a birthday surprise. Isn’t that sweet?” Patrick butted in, throwing an arm over your shoulders. Art looked ready to murder someone (probably the tennis player holding you), “I doubt it was easy contacting me, but she managed. All for you.” 

You laughed nervously, ducking your head, “Well, that’s not-” 

“Let go of her.” Art demanded. His voice was cold and dangerous. Possessive. It made something twitch in your core. Oh, you liked that. 

The brunette didn’t hesitate to do as he was told, holding his hands up in surrender, “My bad, man. I just feel like we’re already such close friends from hanging out together. Don’t you think so?” 

The last part was directed at you, and Patrick nudged you. You gave him an incredulous look. 

The charming, sweet man you’d just been talking to was gone. He was replaced by a cocky, near-disrespectful antagonist who was trying to egg your husband into some kind of altercation. And he was using you as the bait. 

You couldn’t lie that you were frustrated, but it did feel a bit nice to be in an almost tug-of-war between the two men. You liked being an object of affection or desire. 

“You should head inside, baby.” Art spoke to you, though his furious gaze never left Patrick, “Our guests will wonder where the hosts went. I’m gonna talk to Patrick for a minute.” 

You’d be damned if you told him no. Even though this situation felt like a mess that was definitely all your fault. Damn you for inviting Patrick. Damn him for being so captivating. And damn Art for loving you so much that the sight of another man touching you made him see red. This entire thing was like a whirlwind. 

“Okay…” You whispered, moving towards your husband and the house. You gave Patrick a small smile, hoping to convey your thoughts to him. Please don’t hurt him- he’s my world. Then you stopped at Art’s side and placed a hand on his bicep, “I’m sorry if this was a bad idea. I just wanted to make your birthday special, is all. I didn’t mean to fuck it up.” 

He finally looked at you, just long enough to give you a loving smile and a shake of his head, “You didn’t ruin anything. I’m so proud of you for doing all this for me. Don’t worry.” 

Then he kissed you, only to stop and pull away, “Is that- were you smoking with Patrick?” 

You sucked on your teeth and nodded, “Yes, a little. I’m sorry. I just-” 

But then he was kissing you again, hard and needy. Like he wanted to fuck you right then and there. Your face burned bright red, and you could feel Patrick’s eyes on the two of you. Art had never acted like this in all the time you knew him. But right now, within thirty seconds of being around his old friend, he was putting on a show to prove that you were his. 

You belonged to him. And he wanted Patrick to know it. 

You really, really fucking liked this. 

When he pulled away, you felt dizzy. From both the kiss and the wine you’d downed. You barely had time to take a breath before he was lightly patting your cheek and sending you inside. You managed to take a look at the two men before rejoining the party. They just stared at each other, like they were in a standoff. 

It was unbelievably hot. 

As you went back to your guests, lips still tingling, only one thought was coming to you. 

You wondered how long you could keep Patrick around, just to see what it would do to your precious husband. 

[alargehunkofdebris]

Why There’ll Never Be Another Good Omens 2 Experience

The strangest thing happened after a few days post my watching of S2. I got a wave of real, bittersweet sadness.

Not due to the obvious – I was dealing with that too, but with more excitement than anything – but because I realized something, as a writer and consumer of media. I realized that it’s unlikely I’ll ever get a media experience close to what I experienced at the end of Good Omens 2. Because really, its setup was absolutely unparalleled – in general, and for myself personally.

I am currently writing my third romance, and what I’ve learned primarily about the genre, the way for it to really work, is that there needs to be something keeping the couple apart initially. The more things keeping the couple apart, the stronger the romance hits. The more the couple clashes with each other, the better it is. Societal norms, class issues, initial dislike, literal danger—all these aspects are what make a romance a story. It’s that conflict that creates the compelling narrative. No romance was ever popular because things worked out well from the beginning – it’s that “look at what we were, and look at us now” aspect that gives readers/watchers that satisfaction. It’s the “I can’t believe this happened” effect. The “I would never have foreseen this” effect. The “they’ll never be together” effect. It’s why forbidden romances are so incredibly popular.

Another aspect that makes a romance story really work well is the amount of time it takes for the romance to develop. A couple that gets together after a few days? Eh, it’s tricky. You better make it really dramatic somehow. A great example is Titanic – class differences, betrothal, and a huge amount of danger threatens this couple, so them being in love after only a few days works. But what really sells this one is because we can see how this romance has survived beyond those few days. We see it 80 years in the future, still there, in the memory of Rose. That is why it hits so hard. Romances that span over long periods of time (especially ones that are bittersweet/tragic) hit so much more than ones spanning a short period.

But wait! There’s more!

You can up this effect by not only having the romance take time in story…but having it take time in real life, for the viewer/reader.

This is why romances in TV shows that take years to finally work out are so compelling. It’s that “Pam and Jim” effect, that will-they-won’t-they deal. We are waiting right along with them, and we’re feeling that same relief when all those things keeping them apart finally fall away. This is harder to pull off, because there’s never that guarantee that the story will make it that far. TV shows get cancelled, creators lose interest or die, etc. So it’s not just “Will They, Won’t They,” it’s “Will They, Won’t They, Can They Even Try?”

This is also compounded by that fear that it won’t happen in-story after all, and while in romances you’re pretty positive that things work out (they kinda have to, for it to be labeled a “romance”) in other media, there’s always that possibility. Look at Community – there’s a forbidden/conflict-ridden romance that didn’t end up working out, even though it was “Will They, Won’t They”d for six entire seasons. You also then have shows and ships where fans are almost sure it won’t happen, but still hold out hope. (See: Supernatural, Sherlock, etc.)

Now. Now look at Good Omens. Look at that absolutely unparalleled, unbelievable set up. It’s unbelievable because it takes almost every single thing that makes a romance compelling, and not only uses all of them, but dials them up to 11.

Why are they at odds? Why are they forbidden from being together?

Because they are literally the most opposing forces you can imagine in Western Canon. They are the Angel Guarding The Gate and The Serpent of Eden. The literal only way you could’ve made this a bigger deal would’ve been to make it God and Satan, and even that would’ve not hit as hard, because it’d be like two CEOs getting together – there’s no fear of a higher power adding that delicious conflict. And to add to all this, in real life, the couple is portrayed as two men, which adds that second meta level of conflict.

And what fear/danger is keeping this couple apart?

Not just familial disappointment—but disappointment from God and Heaven and Hell. Not just moral guilt, but the guilt of potentially dooming the entire Earth. And finally, on top of that, the very real danger of being killed. Not only that, but making it as though you never even existed.

And in real life, they face all those roadblocks that queer couples in media have been battling for years and years, but I'll talk about that more in a second.

Okay, then Time. How long have they been kept apart?

For…all of it.

All of the time that ever existed.

They, quite literally, could not have been kept apart longer.

And this leads into those final two points, the ones that actually really sell it. Because I can sit down right now and write a story about an angel and a demon falling for each other at the beginning of time against all odds…but what I can’t do is to have already written it thirty-three years ago.

That’s how long this story has existed. Thirty. Three. Years.

I’m not even counting how this is using characters that have existed as opposing forces for thousands of years. I’m not even saying that, even though that’s also a part of it. But besides that, this story, this exact story started thirty-three years ago, and is still being continued by the author to this day.

Do you know how uncommon that is?

Yes, we have canon that has lasted for many, many years. Hundreds. We get new versions of beloved older stories ever year. But it’s so very rare that they are by the same creator. We get new Sherlock Holmes content, but it is not written by Arthur Conan Doyle. This, on the other hand, is actual canon content, written by the author of the original. That is unbelievably rare.

That means we’ve got a fandom where some people have grown up with these characters. People who read it at twenty are fifty-three. People who read it at fifty are eighty-three. Kids who saw their parents reading the book now have children of their own. It is a cult classic that has been in the hearts of so many people for generations. Me, personally, I fell in love with it ten years ago, at age twenty, at the very beginning of my own writing journey. This story means so much to people, because it’s stood that test of time.

And yet, this story was never explicitly romantic. So many saw it that way, but it was never something confirmed. Because this was a book from the 90s, at a time where this kind of romance just wasn’t in popular media if it wasn’t played as a joke. It was, back then, the same kind of “forbidden” as a romance between angel and demon. So people imagined, but they never expected anything more. And they’ve continued not expecting more, because even in the 2019 first season, there was never any true confirmation of anything, and people accepted it. You have a 33-year-old story here – it’s possible that this major change/confirmation could happen, but all things considered, it was unlikely. You would never blame the creator for not making major developments to a story they wrote with their late friend a lifetime ago. And no one in production was saying a word to confirm or deny, but we’ve seen all this before. It was a Will-They-Won’t-They…Probably-Not situation.

And then you have the end of S2.

And that's where that bittersweet sadness comes in for me, personally. Not at a huge level, not to the point where I'd have it any other way, but it's there regardless. Because I realized that this was a unique situation that could never be replicated, for me, and likely for many, especially readers of the book pre-show. In all likelihood, I would never again experience a romantic payoff like this one. Because it was the most forbidden of forbidden romances, the couple of which have been kept apart by the worst of all dangers and highest level of guilt for the longest amount of time literally possible, written over a real-life span of time where this kind of romance went from “completely taboo even in real life” to “finally acceptable in popular media,” written by the same creator, and not confirmed as canon until the story reached the age of Jesus Christ himself.

And the real kicker is, even after everything these two literally star-crossed lovers have gone through…they’re still being kept apart. They’ve still not taken down those final, seemingly insurmountable barriers between them. It wasn’t a “here you go 😊” move to make long-time fans happy – it’s being used as a perfect, painful plot point. After 33 years, we’re still having to wait longer.

Chef's kiss. Couldn’t have been a better set up if it was mathematically calculated. And yet, the best part is that it happened organically.

It just works.

[dcandmarvelimagines]

sweeter than you ever knew. (pt. 1)

Series: pt 1 pt 2 pt 3 pt 4 pt 5 Pairing: Wade Wilson x Logan Howlett x Fem!Reader Rating: Explicit Word Count: 6.8k Warnings: AFAB reader (uses she/her pronouns), 1st person POV, non-mutant Reader, some blood, Wade being too flirty for his own good, vaginal fingering, bathroom sex, dirty talking, the relationship with Logan is a "slow" burn in comparison. More smut to come, I swear. Author's note: Damn...it's been a while huh? My last comic related fic was in 2018, funny enough also because of a Deadpool movie. I was already sappy in a post before so I wont subject y'all to it. But this was intended to be a short little oneshot and has absolutely ballooned out of control. I'm thinking this will end up being five chapters. I will upload the second chapter concurrently with my ao3 upload, so if you prefer to read there, feel free! Also as a little aside: I am so unbelievably sorry that the reader's job working in outreach to help Al is barely described and is probably highly inaccurate. I was desperate not to get lost in the weeds of research on the subject. I needed something that would keep the reader out of the apartment most of the time and let the relationship grow differently, so neighbors was out of the question. If you work in community outreach (absolute angel), please just avert your eyes.

I used to think my life was boring. It was the same day in, day out. I never met anyone interesting or experienced new things. That changed when I knocked on an unassuming apartment door in a dingy building.

I worked in government outreach, providing assistance to elderly blind clients. I had been assigned to work with Althea Sanderson. Her file had listed her as combative and she didn’t disappoint. She absolutely hated my guts at first, grumbling about how she just needed her “disco dust” to keep going. She assured me that she had roommates and didn’t need me “thundering” around her small apartment. 

For nearly two weeks, I thought her mind had to have been slipping, because no one else would come from that apartment besides me. Imagine my shock when I walked into the place and found a hulking mass of a man, only in his boxers, in the kitchen. His brown hair, streaked with white, was wet after a shower and he was half heartedly rubbing at his shoulder with a towel covered in sparkly unicorns. “Who the hell are you?” He snapped, voice gruff. He glared at me like I had personally insulted him by my mere presence. My eyes darted all over him, the thick ropes of muscles in his arms, the harsh planes of abs, the thin sheen of dark hair on his chest, the trail disappearing into his boxers. The man yanked the fridge door open and snapped me from my drooling. 

I had barely stumbled my name out before Al, as she insisted I call her when she realized I wasn’t going anywhere, came around the corner, her hands guiding her along the wall. “Leave her alone Logan. She’s like herpes and I can’t get rid of her.” My lips pursed at the comparison. The man, Logan, huffed with either annoyance or laughter before padding away, beer clutched in his hand. For how big he was, I was shocked at how light on his feet he was. In comparison, I really did thunder around. 

“Oh! Do we have a new roomie!?” The voice trembled in excitement. Its owner bounded around the corner, clad only in low slung sweatpants, nearly tripping over the scraggly dog at his feet. I drew back, sucking in a sharp breath. The new man was no less tall than the other, but lean in comparison, with a wide chest and firm arms. But I was far more distracted by his skin. It was a mixture of mottled pink and white, looking more like swirled bacon fat than anything else. He was completely hairless but I saw the skin of his forehead rise. “Al, you didn’t say you had a hot granddaughter!” 

“Oh I’m not,” I said. While I was scheduled to be here for four hours, I was already contemplating how to escape the suddenly cramped apartment. 

“Does she look like she’s related to me dick for brains?” Al growled at him. The man shrugged, a megawatt smile plastered on his face as he picked up the dog and let it lick at his face. 

“She has the same wild sexual energy you do, my sweet black Betty White.” He walked closer, carelessly dropping the dog into Al’s lap just as she lowered herself into a creaky chair. The man theatrically bowed, snagging my hand to press a too wet kiss to my knuckles. His skin was unbelievably soft as it held mine, the grip light enough that I could pull away at any moment. “Wade Winston Wilson.” 

He was so close to me that I took a half step back. I gave him my name, just my first, and wriggled my hand free. “Um, I'm assuming your Al’s roommates?”

“Roommates is such a safe for work word, I prefer to be her personal pommel horse.” A laugh bubbles up before I can stop it. Wade grinned at the sound and shit, his face softened in such a charming way that I felt my defenses come down just a little. 

“I don’t think you understand what a pommel horse is.” 

“Isn’t it something you ride? Get all flexable on?” 

After that first awkward day, all four of us fell into an easy routine. Al seemed to warm to me more, though her sharp tongue never faltered. Wade was a vibrating ball of energy whenever I came over. He bounced around the kitchen as I made Al her coffee or insisted I sit with them to watch Golden Girls . I came to realize that only his right hand was so soft, the left was scratchy and blistered, which was something I refused to think about any deeper. Logan remained standoffish and reserved but he was there when I needed a break from Wade’s constant talking. I would occasionally find him sitting on the fire escape, smoking the cigar that seemed permanently stuck to his fingers. We often just sat in silence while Wade and Al argued about Ikea furniture. 

I had always found their schedule strange. They would disappear for days, sometimes weeks, at a time with no rhyme or reason. I had originally thought they might be businessmen but Logan’s quick temper and Wade’s obnoxious energy clashed with the idea. Wade often talked about going to exotic places and had brought me back a diamond that he swears up and down is not only real, but is also the tip of a woman’s finger. 

The day I found out their real profession had started horribly. The train line to Al’s apartment had broken, so I had to take a cab there. I was flustered, hungry, and in desperate need of caffeine when I trudged up the five flights of stairs to Al’s apartment, because, of course , her elevator had broken. It was customary for me to knock twice, allowing Al to respond before I used my key to come in. Today, my knocks were much shorter. “Good morning Al,” I called, slipping into the door before turning to close and lock it. I spun and nearly screamed. 

“Oh hey,” Wade said, leaning against the wall of the kitchen, a mug clutched in his hand. I was far more distracted by three massive claw marks across his chest, blood oozing down his stomach, staining his plaid underwear. 

“Oh my god! Wade!” My keys and purse clattered to the floor as I rushed to him, bracing my hands against his chest. “What happened?! Holy shit, oh fuck.” I was babbling now, distracted by how sticky and hot the blood was. But his chest rumbled under my shaking hands. I glanced up and saw a smile on his face as he failed to contain his laughter. “What are you fucking laughing at?! You’re dying here and you're laughing?!” 

“I don’t think I’ve ever heard you swear. Miss good samaritan knows such nasty words.” I tried never to swear around patients but this was a worst fucking case scenario. 

“Oh fuck off! You’re dying and you're laughing ‘cause I said a bad word?!” That only seemed to make him laugh harder. 

“Calm down sweetheart,” came a rough voice behind me. Logan had started to call me that more often, but it always felt like he was insulting me with the word. It usually had a stinge of annoyance laced around it, now was no different. “He’s fine.” I peaked over my shoulder, hands still pressed against Wade’s firm chest, about to argue with the other man about how un fine Wade was. I nearly screamed again. A knife was embedded into Logan’s shoulder. There was blood everywhere . On his bare chest, his face, his hands and arms. 

“Logan!” I wanted to reach for him but couldn’t without leaving Wade to bleed out. 

“Now peanut,” Wade cooed and slid out from under my touch. “I told you, baby knife is just for the bedroom.” With that, Wade yanked the knife from Logan’s shoulder. The spurt of blood made my head woozy and I gripped the counter to hold myself steady. Logan barely reacted to the five inch blade being ripped from his skin, just a small grunt. 

“What’s going on?” My voice was thick with confusion. They had clearly been mauled and attacked in their own home, yet they walked around like nothing traumatizing had just happened.

“Target practice,” Wade said, using a kitchen towel to clean baby knife. Logan turned and dropped on the worn couch, the springs screeching in protest. 

“What?” I grabbed at his wrist before he could walk away. “Wade, please, I hope you understand how jarring that was. Now, please explain and cut all the punny bullshit out.” Wade pressed a dramatic hand to his chest like I had insulted him. 

“We’re mutants.” My eyebrows knitted together as I stalked toward the living room. Logan sat there, whiskey already in hand. He seemingly hid a bottle everywhere. Wade followed behind before collapsing on top of Logan. The older man snapped his jaws like an animal and a little snarl escaped his throat. Wade grinned, tugged at his hair, before going to the other end of the couch. 

“Mutants? Like the X-Men?” The scowl Logan shot me turned my blood to ice. Some of that shock must have shown on my face because Logan glanced away, taking a hefty swig of whiskey, and Wade tugged at my bloody pinky. 

“Ignore him, the X-men are a touchy subject for him, and never touchy in the fun way.” He scratched at his chest, some of the blood smudging. The skin was…

“You’re healed?” I knelt before the couch, hands feeling his chest. “Holy shit I thought you were going to bleed out.” It was impossible. The wounds were deep , I could have sworn I saw bone before. 

“God I’ve thought about you kneeling there for so long.” Logan’s fist cracked into Wade’s arm. My hands flinched away and I quickly stood. “Hurtful peanut. You know my arms always take too long to heal.” 

“Stop being a fucking creep,” Logan hissed. I turned to him and saw that the wound in his shoulder was also gone. Without thinking, I bent to touch the smooth skin, as if I couldn’t believe it without feeling it as well. Logan went still under my touch. I knew Wade didn’t mind the physical contact, he practically threw himself at me whenever I was around, but Logan was always just out of reach. I was too frazzled to think correctly anymore. 

“So you can heal,” I mumbled. 

“Very fast,” Wade said. He grabbed the remote and clicked on the tv. 

“You can stop touching me now sweetheart.” Once again, I snatched my hands back with a mumbled sorry , a faint flush burning my cheeks. 

“Comes in real handy with our line of work.” Wade was bouncing his leg, the couch squeaking under him. Logan’s hand shot out to still him, knuckles showing white for a moment. Wade winced and I heard another snap.

“Which is…?”

Logan answered for me, “mercenaries.” 

“Oh,” I plopped down on the rickety coffee table. The information settled like a lead weight in my stomach. My first instinct was fear. They killed people for money. Would they then turn on me now? Curiosity tugged at me as well. I couldn’t explain it but there was something so magnetic about them. The edge of danger had always been there, especially with Logan. I would have never guessed it was this. Ever since I first met them, I knew I would be fascinated. I guess I had my answer as to why they were as fit as models. “How come I’ve never seen anything? Do you guys not have…guns or whatever?” 

“He didn’t want to scare you.” Logan jabbed his thumb Wade’s way. I cocked my head at Wade, a tiny smile pulling at my lips. He actually looked a little bashful. 

“I’ve found that women don’t always respond very positively to my intestines hanging out.” My stomach flipped and I sat a little straighter. 

“Has that happened?” 

“No, but a fortune teller told me it will happen when I least expect it.” He stood with an excited jump, moving to stand in front of a small closet. There was only a faint limp in his movement. As he walked, I became incredibly aware that both men were nearly naked, only clad in thin boxers. With every step, Wade’s well defined back flexed and his legs tensed. I only allowed myself a moment to take him in before I drew my gaze away. He turned and flung the door open with flourish. “Behold! My batcave!” I glanced inside, and found a tall gun case, massive stacks of ammo, and two katanas balanced against a red suit. There was a yellow one tucked next to it as well. “Mine is the red one, a very flattering color I assure you.” 

“The yellow one is yours?” Logan just gives me a curt nod. His face is stone again, clearly done with this conversation. “Do you use any of that?” I ask, motioning to the “batcave”, whatever the hell that means. 

Snikt.  

“Woah,” I whispered. The three blades protruding from between his knuckles were shiny and looked wicked sharp. I leaned forward and pressed the pad of my thumb against the middle blade. It immediately split the skin and a drop of blood oozed down my skin. Logan watched my warily, like I was liable to jump on the claws at any moment. “Do they hurt?” There were small beads of blood around where they had pierced through his skin. With a flex of his veiny forearm, the claws disappeared. The blades slid smoothly between the bones on the back of his hand.

“Yeah, everytime.” I watch his skin knit itself together again with rapt attention. Once it finished, I ran my injured thumb over the regrown skin, our blood smearing a thick stripe across his knuckles. Logan’s hand was relaxed as I held it. Wade flopped back onto the couch, his head in Logan’s lap, baby knife clutched in his hands. Logan seemed resigned, face relaxing just a bit, and allowed Wade to rest. He withdrew his hand from mine before resting his arm across Wade’s neck. The motion was surprisingly domestic and it made my heart warm. Behind me, the Golden Girls theme played. 

“Isn’t Al in danger with you two here? Don’t you have enemies that could find her?” The briefest sad expression flashed across Wade’s face. I stood suddenly, “oh my god where is she? Did someone already grab her and that’s why you were fucked up?” 

“She’s fine, probably wandering the streets or whatever women of her age do,” Wade made a dismissive wave of his hand. 

“Wade!” I stepped on his foot in my mad dash to my fallen purse. I needed my phone to do…something. Call someone? The phone call would sound ridiculous. Hi, I help a blind woman and her two mutant roommates are mercenaries and got her kidnapped. Yeah, totally believable. I had just snatched my bag up when the door opened and Al herself appeared. 

“Fucking Jesus,” she snapped as she ran into me. My body sagged in relief at seeing her. I gripped her shoulders, just to make sure she was actually there. 

“Oh my god Al, don’t fucking scare my like that.” Her hands flew up and shook out from my touch. 

“Well you were late!” I wasn’t. “Are those two done fucking yet?” I twisted to look at the men on the couch. Logan was half way out the window to smoke. I could have sworn I saw him lick at his bloody knuckles. Wade was studying me, the hint of a challenge in his eyes, daring me to say something about their relationship. I smiled, hoping it let him know I didn’t care. But that easy look might have been ruined when pieces fell together. The knife. The three slashes to Wade’s chest. Their near nakedness. 

Huh.

“Uh yeah Al, I think I ruined the mood for them.” She scoffed and shoved a grocery bag into my hands. I dutifully turned to the kitchen and began to store away the random assortment of items. She guided herself over to the coffee maker and began to load the grounds into a filter. 

“I think you are one of the biggest things that puts them in the mood honey.” I heard a growl float in from the window. 

Wade and Logan stopped avoiding me after finding out their true occupation. It never got any easier seeing their bloody bodies strew around the apartment. I slipped on enough stray bullets that I learned to watch my feet. Wade was always cleaning his guns with a concentration I didn’t think he was capable of. One night he forced me to sit down, offering his lap first and whimpered pitifully when I took the chair, and made me hold the gun, showing me how to cock it and flick the safety on and off. The name Chekhov was stamped across the side in shiny gold letters. “Do I really need to know this?” He leaned closer, cheek pressed to mine. His warm hands slid over my own, guiding me to a button that would pop the magazine out and helped me click it back into place. He had grown much bolder in his touching and I couldn’t bring myself to stop him anymore.

“Never know when you’ll need to flip the badass switch.” His bubbly finger tapped the glittering name for emphasis. I shifted in my seat to face him, my lips ghosting over his cheek. He followed my lead and our noses brushed. 

“I didn’t think I would need that with you around.” A beat passed as we looked at each other. There was something soft in his eyes that made my heart clench. “You’re going to protect me, right?” It wouldn’t take much to lean closer, to finally kiss him. I knew he was thinking the same thing and my eyelids fluttered closed in anticipation. 

The alarm for my Al’s meds broke the moment. 

I knew I was sliding into a sticky situation. I found myself staying later and later, well past my shift with Al had ended. It was absolutely forbidden for me to become involved with clients. The excuse that they weren’t technically my clients wouldn’t work on my boss. I needed to make a decision. Either stop working with Al or end any attachment to Wade, and Logan by extension. 

***

I’m not sure how Wade and I ended up on that date. He and Logan had been away on a job for a week. It was finally peaceful in the apartment but I couldn’t lie to myself, I had missed them. So I didn’t fight Wade too much when he asked “nicely”, aka demanded , he tag along while I ran errands for Al. She was the last person I had to visit for the day so I allowed him to drag me to a bar after I dropped her meds off. Logan had a dark look in his eyes when he saw Wade clutch my hand. “The old man is just jealous. He wishes someone would take him out, but he doesn’t do well in crowds, very bitey.” I smirked and let Wade choose our destination. His hand was steady around mine, giving it occasional squeezes as we rushed across busy streets. The bar he picked was properly seedy, full to the brim with haggard men with face tattoos. Normally, I would have run screaming from a place like this. But Wade was clearly well liked. He moved through the room, smiling and waving at everyone. He tried introducing me to some people but it was hard to keep their names straight. We found an empty booth tucked behind the row of pool tables. I eased onto the sticky laminate bench as Wade headed to the bar to get our drinks. I listen to the men next to my seat argue over who was supposed to break for their next game of pool while I waited. 

Wade returned with my drink, a neon green one for him, and two small shot glasses. I eyed them suspiciously as he passed me one of the whipped cream topped shots. “I thought it was only right to start our date with a blowjob.” I coughed on my laugh, examining the glass. He tapped his against mine before downing it and I followed his lead. It was pure sugar, nearly masking the burn of the alcohol. 

“Whoever made this has clearly never given a blow job. Way too sweet.” Wade grinned in that mischievous way he always seemed to when he was going to be especially gross. I had no idea why I was being so forward. But I felt light, happy. All my worries from work had melted away as Wade held my hand on our way here.

“Oh yeah? I’ve been told my cum is rather delicious. It’s all the pineapple I eat.” I rolled my eyes and matched his grin, propping my elbows on the table, head cradled between my hands. 

“I don’t think I’ve ever seen you eat a single fruit. Or a vegetable honestly.” Wade copied my pose, fluttering his nonexistent eyelashes. 

“How about you taste mine and I taste yours?” I pretended to contemplate, eyes scrunching, head tilting from side to side. My hand inched across the table before I plucked the cherry from Wade’s drink. He saw me, I could tell by the minute flick of his gaze, but he let me take it regardless. I yanked it from the stem with my teeth and chewed thoughtfully. 

“Hm, I’m not sure. Don’t you think Al would talk if you were moaning my name so much?” He grabbed my wrist and dragged my hand closer. My breath caught as his lips enveloped my index finger and thumb. His tongue lazed over them before he drew back, the cherry stem between his teeth. 

“Sweetie pie, I moan it enough as is.” I blushed and my stomach grew warm. The stem disappeared, his jaw moving. “I haven’t been able to convince the old bastard to dress like you yet. But he lets me pretend.” I took a big gulp of my drink and glanced away. The patrons were starting to get more boisterous. Their shouts echoed off the peeling wallpapered walls as they called for more rounds or catcalled some of the working girls. I watched as a pretty blonde walked off with two men. Would Wade and Logan take turns? Or would they pin me between them, spreading me open on both of their- “Jealous?” My head whorled back to him but only found a knowing glint in his eyes. 

“Shut up,” I growled and took another deep drink. Wade’s tongue lolled out, in the center was a perfectly knotted stem. I shifted in my seat. This was not how I had intended the night to go. I wanted just a drink, conversation, and then home for a long awaited rest. But here I was, squirming at the mere sight of Wade’s tongue. “Impressive,” I mumbled. I reached across the table and plucked the stem from him. It looked like he was going for another kiss but my hand drew back too fast.

“I know it’s impressive. Just spelling out my name gets it all twisted like that.” I rolled my eyes with a smirk. 

“You didn't strike me as a guy who would spell his name out. I thought you might be a little more creative.” He leaned closer, eyes just a bit too wide. 

“Oh? What were you imagining I would do? I have a lot of skills and I’ll use them all on you.” Damn it . I finished off my drink and the booze buzzed down my body as it settled inside me. A small voice in my head reminded me that I needed to pick. That if I went down this road with Wade, I needed to stop visiting Al. But fuck, I craved the feeling of his hands on me. I dreamt of him and Logan anytime I saw them. My brain became more and more depraved as the weeks went on. I could barely look at them sometimes without blushing. 

“Wade,” I sighed, twirling my straw in the slowly melting ice. “If we do anything, I have to stop working with Al. It’s a conflict of-“ he held a scarred hand up and my voice died away. 

“No work talk. It’s Friday, let me show you a good time.” I sighed again but nodded. 

The night passed blissfully. Wade was a strangely great date, much better than any guy I’ve been with recently. He asked me a million questions, ranging from my childhood, food allergies, to my favorite Mexican food. He gave me half joke responses about his own childhood, but gave me enthusiastic answers to everything else . He bought me another drink after he finished his but I was careful to sip mine slowly. The last thing I needed was a hangover. He also brought some greasy fries and I dove into them gratefully. We played one round of pool, which he won by only a few points. Then he promptly annihilated me in darts. “So unfair,” I groaned. “You do this for a living, I would have never won.” 

“I thought you being sexy would distract me enough. Strip, then you’ll win.” I had that pleasant buzz running through me so his words just made me giggle. 

“Maybe I’ll take you up on that.” I held up my hand to cut off his next words. “Not now you horny bastard.” He pouted, lip stuck a full inch off his face. I playfully plucked at it. “Pout all you want. You gotta put more effort in to get me naked.” 

That was perhaps the wrong choice of words because he bent down, his lips colliding with mine. I gasped but grabbed at his sweatshirt, clinging to him. He kissed like he wanted to eat me, all tongue and spit. He tasted as sweet as candy from the bright cocktails he had. It made my head swirl, skin heat. His hands moved to my hips and traced the sliver of exposed skin before they dove into my back pockets, and jerked me closer. I moaned into him as I felt the hard ridge in his pants pressed against my hip. The few whoops from our onlookers made me pause. “Probably not the best place.” Wade’s voice was a little husky, lips still close enough to mine that they moved with his words. 

“No,” I mumbled. But neither of us disentangled from each other. “I should probably go home.” Wade sighed and straightened. He nodded, tucking a loose lock of hair behind my ear. 

“Fuck you look gorgeous.” His voice was barely audible under the conversations and the music. I opened my mouth to say something but he cut me off. “I gotta hit the head then I’ll take you home.” He removed my hands from his sweatshirt, but still held one as he guided me to where the bathrooms were, situated at the end of a long hallway. “Wait here, don’t get too many men drooling over you.” Once he disappeared into the men’s room, I let out a breath. He was overwhelming, equal parts sweet, filthy, and ridiculous. The last thing I wanted to do was be responsible. To go home and ignore all the things he made me feel. I had already gone too far, what were a couple more steps? I bit at my thumb nail and watched the bathrooms intently. I didn’t see any women come or go into theirs. I scanned the bar and only found a handful of them. I knew I would have it mostly to myself. 

Cautiously, as if I was somehow breaking a law, I walked down and into the women’s bathroom. It was empty, mostly clean, and smelled fine. Which I’m sure is more than I could say about the men’s. I propped myself against the wall in the hallway, waiting for Wade to emerge again. Two men passed before I saw him. “Aw, I don’t need an escort out of this creepy hallway.” I roughly grabbed his shirt, and backed into the still empty bathroom. “Oh wow, the promised land.” 

I slammed him against the door, far too rough from nerves, but his face lit up nevertheless, a little excited laugh escaping him. “How about you show me those skills you talked about, yeah? Consider this a trial period before I let you fuck my brains out.” He didn’t need to be told twice. He hauled my body tight against his, lips crashing against mine again. This time, I gave into his kisses completely, his teeth tugging at my lips. There was a pinch of pain each time but it only made me claw at his neck harder. Judging by the groan he let out, I think I broke through skin. His tongue prodded its way into my mouth and I moaned loudly against him. His hands slid all over my body before they hooked behind my knees and he carried me to the counter. He lifted me like I weighed nothing. My head was beginning to grow fuzzy from our kiss but I refused to part, greedily sucking air from him instead. 

Wade was the first to rear back, gulping down lungfuls of air. I wanted to drag him back and kiss him till I was lightheaded again. “Goddamn woman,” he mumbled. I just hummed, moving my desperate kisses to his jaw. My hands crawled up his shirt and littered his torso with scratches. He leaned closer, my head hitting the mirror behind me, as he gripped my hips and dragged me flush against him. My legs curled around his waist, craving the feeling of his hard cock against me. 

“Wade,” I whined while I ground my hips against his. I found a particularly sensitive spot just below his ear that made him rasp my name. He cupped the back of my neck, leading me back to his greedy mouth. His thumb brushed along my jaw before his fingers delicately laid across my throat. I arched my neck to give his hand better access to the column of muscle. But his hands slipped from me entirely so he could shove my shirt over my breasts. He buried his face between them, peppering the skin with long, sucking kisses. “ Wade,” I moaned, hips bucking desperately against him, “I need you to fuck me.” His hand went to my jeans, pulling the button free and easing the zipper down. I yelped when his teeth captured a bit of flesh and bit down, hard . But the sting of pain only made me crave him more. Finally his hand plunged under my jeans and into my underwear. 

“So wet all ready,” he hummed, biting at more of my skin. He drifted over my clit in loose, but firm circles. With his free hand, he worked the cup of my bra down and captured my nipple in his mouth. I thursted against his hand in an attempt to get him to do more, to bend me over this sink and fuck me like I knew he wanted to. Instead, he traced the tip of his finger over my entrance and had the nerve to chuckle when I tried to force it inside. 

“ Jesus, Wade , stop teasing me.” My voice was airy, tinged with desire. His teeth glanced across my nipple and I nearly wailed. “Wade!” My nails went to his head and dug into his scalp, heels digging into his ass in annoyance. 

“I love the way you say my name, pretty girl.” His finger drove into me, pumping in and out quickly. He sucked one last bruise onto the top of my breast before he was kissing and licking back up my neck. 

“ More , Wade,” I panted, “you aren’t going to break me.” He laughed, the sound sending goosebumps across my feverish skin. Another finger worked its way into me and my eyes rolled back at the stretch, a sigh catching in my throat.  His thumb moved into more controlled figure eights. My legs trembled around him as he crooked his fingers inside, hunting for that spongy spot inside me. “Wade, oh fuck.” 

“God you moan so nice for daddy Wade.” Something between a laugh and a sob of pleasure bubbled up from my chest. Heat oozed through my body, settled deep in my stomach. 

“I’m not gonna call you that. Ah, keeping doing that, so good.” 

“Are you going to call Logan daddy when he makes you wiggle like this?” He found his mark and stroked the spot deep inside me with complete focus. My hips bore down on his hand, chasing for the orgasm I sensed. “ Aww seems like you like the idea. You’re sucking me in so much.” He bit more bruises on my neck, tongue lapping at the skin after to soothe the ache. “I can’t wait to see you stretched on his big dick.” 

I whimper, the tension inside me near breaking point. “Yours first.” The coil finally snapped. My eyes squeezed shut as a stream of his name and half gasps fell from my chapped lips. His free hand pinned my hip to the counter to stop its wild jerks. He scattered soft kisses across my face and cheeks as he worked me through my orgasm. It seemed to last an eternity and the waves of bliss made my body tingly. 

Eventually, my body relaxed and slumped against the mirror, chest heaving. Wade’s fingers remained in me, lazily plunging inside. Now that the haze had passed, I could hear just how wet I was. The lewd noises echo off the cramped bathroom’s tiles. “Wade,” I mumbled, tugging weakly at his wrist. “You should get to fucking me now.” 

“ Ew , how about you guys don’t. Do you know how dirty it is in here?” I jumped at the voice, scrambling to cover myself. Wade shifted himself to block me from view as I did. His fingers withdrew with a pop that made my face heat even more. The woman idly scrolled on her phone to give us privacy. My bra was fixed, shirt back over my chest, in record time. 

Wade was fine to let us wait it seemed. His sticky fingers lingered on my stomach, running over the curves and stretch marks, before he buttoned up my pants. “Okay sugar bean, let’s get you home.” He helped me off the counter, my weak legs wobbling just a bit. He kept his firm arm around me for support anyways. I had half a mind to think it was just to keep touching me. I didn’t mind and leaned into his side, head against his chest. 

The night was cool, the slight bite of oncoming autumn in the crisp air, and I breathed it in. My head felt clearer with each one. I went to pull away first, to tell him that I would see him on Monday, but he kept walking. “Where are we going?” 

“Gonna take you home.” I blinked. 

“How do you know this is the way to my place?” He made a noncommittal noise and shrugged. 

“Is some light stalking a turn off?” I knew I was crazy, absolutely insane, because all I did was beam up at him and cling closer. We made our way to my apartment in long winding segments. First the train where he pulled my legs over his and kissed at my wind whipped cheeks. Then a stop at a late night burger chain where Wade promptly drowned his in ketchup. We walked slowly to my apartment, hand in hand. Exhaustion had finally reached me and my feet dragged behind me. The night had only grown colder, breath misting in front of our faces. I was wearing a light jacket as I anticipated being home before the drop in temperature. I drew Wade’s arm closer, pressing it against my chest, clinging to the bit of heat. “You know, if we were both naked you would be warmer.” I rolled my eyes. 

“That’s absolutely not how that works. Also, my place is just around the corner.” We only had to walk a few more steps before I saw the familiar entrance to my apartment. Wade followed me to my door, leaning against the rail, waiting for me to fish my keys out of my purse. Once I had them in hand, I also tugged my phone from my pocket. “I don’t have your number.” I oddly felt shy, like this was too much of a leap. It felt more official like this. When I held it out for him, he took it eagerly, fingers tapping quickly. Then he kept typing. I peered down at my phone and saw him adding information for Asshole GILF, surrounded by an assortment of hearts. Quite frankly, I didn’t even know Logan had a phone, I had never seen him with it. 

My stomach dropped when I saw Wade open a conversation with Logan and began typing. I was only able to read the words horny and get it up before I snatched my phone back. “Oh my god Wade!” I rapidly deleted the text, refusing to read anymore of his nonsense sexting. “I would prefer Logan to not think I’m trying to jump his bones.” 

“Aw come on! Live a little. Logan loves people who come on too strong, especially on his face.”  

“I think you are probably the exception, Wade. Logan doesn’t seem to want much to do with me.” His cold palms cupped my cheeks and drew me closer. 

“I’m gonna let you in on a little secret, just you and me, yeah?” I nod, arms encircling his waist. The warmth of his chest spread into mine. “Logan dreams about you. He growls your name. He humps me in his sleep like a teenage boy. Then he wakes up and fucks me for hours.” My face heated at his words. I could feel him getting hard against my hip. “He wants you so bad it makes him crazy.” He pushed against me, just the slightest bit. “ I want you so bad it makes me crazy.” I realized that I never repaid the favor at the bar before being interrupted. 

“Do you want to come upstairs?” Wade smirked, kissing the apples of each cheek then my nose. 

“No, I’m gonna surprise Logan. He’ll go nuts when he smells you on me.” I blinked in confusion. I didn’t smell that bad, did it? “He has enhanced senses,” he explained. “He’ll be able to smell your cum on my fingers from outside the apartment.” 

“Oh god,” I mumbled, stuck between embarrassment and arousal. “Okay, well, don’t keep Al up.” 

“She has ear muffs.” I shook my head, chuckling at the absurdity. Wade pecked at my lips but didn’t allow me more. “Goodnight baby girl. Make sure you text me so I know who you are. So many crazy fangirls, you wouldn’t believe it.” 

“Uh huh,” I teased, finding the key fob for my building. Wade left one lingering kiss on my forehead before giving me a nudge toward my door. The scanner beeped, door releasing with a click. I wedged the door open before it could lock again. “Goodnight, see you Monday.” I blew him a kiss before the door clicked behind me as I went to the elevator. I reached for my phone and searched for Wade in my contact list. Of course I found him listed as Bootycall . Instead of solely hearts, his name was circled by eggplants and hearts. 

Me: you have to send me a picture for your profile. I could have missed you 

The elevator dinged and the door slid open. I traced my usual route to my apartment, jiggling the lock open with my key. My phone buzzed on the counter as I set it down to toe off my shoes and hang my coat up. 

Bootycall: once I’m done with Logan, I’ll send pictures for the both of us. 

Bootycall: Do you have other fuckbuddies? How could you? We should be the only ones for you

I woke up late the next day to two pictures. One was blurry, but the brown hair and a pointy white tooth told me it was Logan. It seemed Wade had tried to sneak it and was caught. The picture of Wade nearly made me faint. Pearly white beads of cum were splattered across his face and dripped off his exposed tongue. 

Me: I can’t possibly make that your contact picture

Bootycall: you’re right! Make it your background!

[dannyriccsupremacy]

now that we don't talk | CL16

| charles leclerc x fem!exgf!reader smau

| summary : charles doesn't do enough to keep his girlfriend and when the internet finds out, they are less than happy.

| faceclaim : christina nadin

| part one here ! part three here !

liked by yourbff, landonorris + 88,634 others

youruser i was so shocked i dropped my @sacreskin out of the bathtub

view all 12,732 comments

yourbff i wonder why you were so shocked 🤔

↳ youruser im not sure whatsoever i dont know why

↳ francisca.cgomes sweetie what are you hiding from us?

user shes had such a glow up since the break up

user post charles glow!

user you're so pretty!

user sacre literally saved my skin!! thank you 💋

↳ youruser omg im so happy for you!

bellahadid i love sacre!

liked by youruser, charles_leclerc + 20,265 others

sacreskin new products dropping soon! as modelled by our lovely founder @youruser

view all 2,076 comments

user charles, bby, why are you in the likes?

user what is charles doing here?

user shoo charles shoo

youruser i'm so excited for this drop! you're all going to love it!

↳ user girly why is charles here

yourbff this is the cream she dropped on the floor outside the bathtub

↳ user yn being exposed by bff once again

user i will go broke spending all my money on them.

yn was getting ready to go to dinner with her bff, when she heard a sudden knok at the door. glancing at the time, she assumed it was her bff, who was just extremely early- probably to get ready together. they pounded on the door again, becoming impatient.

"yeah, coming. calm your farm!" yn called, making her way to the door.

she wasn't looking at the door as she opened it, trying to dig through her makeup bag to find her beauty blender. as they walked through the door, yn actually glanced up at them, "charlie? what are you doing here?"

he continued walking through the hallway, taking in yn's new home, "you just let me in."

she followed behind him, ditching her makeup bag, "i wouldn't have if i knew it was you!"

"oh come on, yn, we both know you would have." charles stopped in her kitchen and turned around to face her.

"i wouldn't of." yn stood her ground.

they stared at each other for a moment, before yn began moving, stopping behind charles and putting both of her hands straight into her back. charles stumbled forward, and turned around, staring at yn with an unbelieving look on his face.

"what was that for?" he exclaimed.

"get out!" yn replied, pointing towards her door.

"i'm not leaving until we talk." charles stood his ground, this time ready for her shove, not moving.

"fine. you have like five minutes. i have plans." yn gave in, pulling out one of her kitchen stools to sit on.

charles followed suit, pulling out the stool next to hers and turning to face her, "i'm sorry."

yn laughed, almost spitting in charles' face.

"i am. i miss the old ways. i miss you. what can we do to fix us?" charles asked, sincerity in his eyes.

"nothing, charlie. there is no 'us' anymore." yn softly replied.

"surely there is something we can do?" charles pleaded, debating whether he should literally get on his hands and knees and beg.

"no charles. we're done-" charles began to speak, cutting her off, by she silenced him with a look, "look, i called my mum and the first thing she said was that 'it was for the best'. i have to remind myself that, the more i gave, you'd want me less. i can't be your friend. it's just better, now that we don't talk."

"you don't mean that." charles muttered, lowering his eyes to his fidgeting hands.

"i do. i don't have to pretend that i want to be on a mega yacht, with important men, who think important thoughts. i'm on my way back to my dignity." yn argued, her voice pulling charles' eyes up to hers.

"yn, i will do anything to fix it. i'm so sorry. it's all my fault. yn, please." charles begged.

"you know i had to tell your friends, the ones we shared dinners and long weekends with?" yn asked, "i had to pretend it was platonic, but we'd just ended."

"yn, i'm willing to do anything to get you back again. just give me one more chance." charles pleaded.

"no. charlie. it's best now that we don't talk." yn raised from her seat and grabbed his hand, which he immediately latched onto. she easily led him away from her kitchen and to her door, leaving him standing in her hallway, but not before planting a kiss on his cheek.

youruser just posted a story!

"he said what?!" your best friend exclaimed, her eyes bascially buldging out of her head.

"what. an. asshole." julia, a girl in the club bathroom added in.

yn and her bff had sat in the club bathroom for the past hour, relaying the story of her afternoon to her bff and the other three women who had sat there to help the pair shit talk charles.

"i think i would've punched him in the face, honestly." chloe scoffed.

"how did he even get your new address?" amelia asked, "is he stalking you?"

yn pondered for a moment, "i think pierre probably gave it to him. but enough about me and my shitty ex. why are you three crying in the club bathroom?"

"the guy i'm talking to right now, he is so not over his ex and he is just like, leading me along." amelia answered, slightly shrugging.

"what is with men and being assholes?" yn shook her head, "you deserve so much better. dump him!"

"he's so hot though!" amelia rebutted.

"hot guys are usually the worst ones." chloe said, earning nods of agreement from the rest of the group.

"you're better than this." your bff assured amelia, placing a comforting hand on her arm. amelia gave a small smile, one that didn't meet her eyes, and nodded.

"come on. let's just get drunk and forget about all the asshole men in this world. in this stupid little tiny country." yn stated, jumping off the counter and clasping her hands.

"unless they buy us drinks." julia added.

"unless they buy us drinks." yn reaffirmed

authors note thank you guys for so much love on my first post, it's actually mad! also thank you for everyone who requested a part 2. idk if this is very good and its not very long, but here we are! also if you want to be tagged please leave a comment!

[espinosaurusrexex]

A degree? Who needs that anyway?

Boyfriend!Bucky x Female!Reader

summary: Bucky noticed you were exhausted during this time of the semester. Being the supportive golden retriever boyfriend he was, he just wanted to make you feel better. Unfortunately, his efforts only showed him how stressed you really were. So he vowed to support you through it all.

a/n: I have finally finished all my work and am back in business, baby! I'm so excited to spend the cozy season writing and posting again. Thank you for being so patient and supporting. I am so unbelievably grateful for this community. This is for all the academic girlies struggling through exam season like I do...

word count: 1.9k

warnings: feelings stress and not being enough, perfectionsim (and the pressure that comes with it), projecting self worth onto academic achievements, Bucky being adorable and supportive (perfect boyfriend alert!), just a whole lotta fluff 

･ﾟ✫* 𝒎𝒂𝒊𝒏 𝒎𝒂𝒔𝒕𝒆𝒓𝒍𝒊𝒔𝒕 ｡✭･ﾟ✶ 𝒄.𝒂𝒊 ✧*･ﾟ

You were stressed. Bucky knew it. Everyone was walking on eggshells around you, if - ever - you allowed yourself to step out of the apartment to see your friends or work your part-time job. He'd never seen you like this. You were a social butterfly, the total opposite of him with the ability to recharge when you were around the people you loved most. But for a month or so you'd been living the hermit life. And Bucky did not like it one bit. 

It gave him an uneasy feeling, a squeeze to his heart, a hatred for anything that could potentially set you off. Because it was there - the potential. He was just waiting for it. For the shoe to drop, for you to break. For him to go on a rampage against all things bothering you. 

He knew you were strong and stubborn, and that you hated to ask people for help. But there was only so much a person could endure. Hell, Bucky knew too well himself. Because he was the same. He hated asking for help - he hated accepting that he was bad at something. But this...  just broke his heart. 

He tried to take you out, to get you to eat with him - anything to get you back to your normal routines. But not even when he mentioned your favorite pastime activity did he get an enthusiastic smile out of you. That’s when he knew something was seriously wrong. Well, not something. He knew it was University. You’d complained about your professors at the beginning of the semester to him, how they were too ambitious for their own good and required a mountain of weekly readings not even that guy from Transformers could manage. Now... towards the end of the term, he saw how that ambition bled into your papers and final exams. 

And Bucky? Well, he didn’t know how to act around you. It seemed like a silly selfish problem but normally you would be the one seeking contact and physical touch. He enjoyed it every time but he was just not good at initiating it himself. You’d seemed to shut him out completely. Working yourself away on your desk only to fall asleep on it and have Bucky carry you to bed. He hated seeing you like this. 

He knew it wasn’t a permanent state - it couldn’t be. Because even though he considered you the strongest person he knew, there had to be a point at which even you broke. 

And then, one day, it just happened. Without warning. Bucky hadn’t wanted to be right, so he had just ignored the thought of your breaking beneath all the pressure completely. And that was why he did not have as much as a hunch when you were talking over breakfast and the dam broke.

You had been up since well before Bucky had finally convinced you to eat with him. He’d even gone to your favorite bakery this morning to get the little pudding pastries you loved so much. And when he came back, he silently pulled your chair back and dropped you at the dining table. Everything seemed pretty good for a while. And then, out of nowhere, while Bucky was telling you about his trip to the Bakery, you had just started crying - hard.

Bucky had never seen so many tears. Not even when the wives of his fellow soldiers stood at the peer waving his comrades goodbye with white handkerchiefs. He shook the memory away. He thought the amount of tears quite impossible with the neglect of drinking water he had witnessed over the past week but they just kept coming. And Bucky wanted to hold you but something told him it wouldn't help one bit. 

You were sobbing into your hands drawing in shaky breaths as you hid your face from him and everything inside him began to scream. Scream at him for sitting there frozen like an idiot and screaming at all the professors who deserved nothing more than a good punch in their oh so intelligent faces. 

"It's just all too much. I’m so exhausted, Bucky.” A trembling breath that was muffled by your hands pressing into your mouth. Bucky was raging, but he let you continue. “And I hate that... I hate that I let this consume so much of my time and ...me. I hate that I let it affect me so much when I’m at the point at which I don't even know if it's worth it anymore.”

Bucky drew in a sharp breath at that statement. You had been working so hard, dedicated so much time and effort to work toward a goal he wanted you to achieve as much as you wanted to initially. To hear you doubt yourself broke his heart into a million pieces. He knew you were capable of it, but something told him not to say that just now. It was then you finally lifted your face and let your reddened eyes search for his. His fingers itched to touch your face. Why didn’t he do so?

“And it doesn’t help that everyone believes in me you know?” He nodded, though he didn’t quite understand. “I love each of my friends but every person that tells me they believe in me and how they don’t even doubt I’ll make it adds more pressure on top of the standard I set for myself.”

This was it. This was the moment he needed to touch you. Bucky rose from his chair and knelt down beside yours. His warm hand reached up toward your face and you immediately fell into his embrace. Your forehead pressed into his muscular shoulder, your arms reached around him and his entire body felt tingly as relief flooded through it. 

"I am so scared I'm going to fail.” You exhaled into his shirt as his hand gently stroked your back. He wanted to tell you how failing wasn’t bad. How much he would love you regardless and how stupid a dumb degree was anyway. He wanted to kiss you and whisper against your skin how you could excel at everything you tried by simply being yourself because, for Bucky, you were the epitome of perfection. 

But he didn’t do any of it. Because he also knew how important this was for you. Even if you were questioning if anything was worth it at this point - it definitely wasn’t in his eyes if it meant seeing you so crushed by something as trivial as a file on your computer - Bucky knew he’d help you walk through a hurricane if that was what you needed from him. Hell, he’d gladly do so if it would bring your beautiful smile back to your face. This degree felt really close to what he imagined walking through a hurricane to be like right about now. And he thought that he would never want one himself if this was what you had to go through in order to get it. Besides, who needed a degree anyway? Back in his day, you weren’t more special for it. Being a soldier did the job just fine... then again, that was probably worse than the hurricane thing. Focus Bucky. 

Bucky pulled back and kissed your tears off your face and then he pressed one more kiss to your salty lips for good measure. Yes, he’d do anything for you - degree or not.

“What can I do to help you, love? I hate seeing you like this.” He froze for a second in fear of adding more pressure by expressing his sadness. And surely, you just started crying harder as your face fell forward again. Oh no, Bucky thought. 

“I-“ you hick-uped, “I don’t know.” Seriously where did you get all that water from? “I love you so much. And I appreciate you so much and I know you want to comfort me but if we were to cuddle for an hour I would just stress myself out about the time I could spend studying - even if all I wanna do is cuddle you.” The stream didn’t stop when you cried harder. “And I hate that!”

Bucky nodded frustrated. "I love you too.” And then he cradled your head with his metal hand.

For a good minute, you just stayed like this. Bucky pressed you deeper into his chest until your sobs slowly died down and your stuffy breathing became steadier. He kissed your hair just to stroke over it again and then kiss it once more. For the first time in weeks, he felt like he did something that relaxed you a little. And even though you had just cried a river in your kitchen, you were so much calmer than before. 

You sniffled adorably when you looked up at him after some time. “Just know I know how difficult I am right now. I cannot wait for this to be over. It’s just... I don’t even know how to take care of myself right now, I can’t possibly know how to include you in this as well.” A final tear fell and Bucky was fast to wipe it away. “But I am so glad you’re here.”

“Okay, I understand.” He answered and hugged you again, vowing to initiate daily cuddle/relief breaks from here on out. There wasn’t much he could do, he knew that and hated it too. If he could, he would write your papers for you, but Bucky was convinced he was not nearly smart enough for that, so anything else had to make do. He’d keep the apartment clean so you had a good atmosphere to learn, he’d make sure you slept and ate on time, and he’d supply all the love you deserved regardless of exam season. “And you just know that I will be here for you, patiently waiting until you have the capacity to include me again.” He pushed your hair from your forehead and kissed you sweetly. “I will support you in everything you do...” Another kiss, this one, you reciprocated. “Always.” And another long, warm lasting kiss to seal his promise. “If you promise me one thing... one thing only,” he whispered.

“What is it?” You whispered back. 

“Promise to let me take care of you. I know you would spend 25 hours in a day studying if it were possible, but you can't keep it up like this.” He nodded. “Let me make sure you have the headspace for all your studying. Don’t deny my bringing you food, or dragging you to bed. And collect at least three kisses and one hug every day for emotional support,” he smiled faintly, a cheeky glimmer in his eyes that shone in yours as well. 

“Okay, I promise.”

Bucky kissed you again, pressing your body against his with gentle strength. His heart began to beat faster when he felt your nails rake down his shoulders. 

From then on Bucky would come up to you and hug you for a couple seconds, calling it ‘quick recharge’. He would hold you when you cried - but only when you cried because you needed to spend your dedicated hours of studying- holding you was for later.  And then he would remind you to drink enough water after watching your tears soak into his shirt. But what he looked forward to the most, were the evenings when you would cuddle into his side in bed and let him lull you to sleep. He felt accomplished as he watched you relax outside the study schedule you set up with him, being able to fully be present when you ate together or went to bed. There were still rough times, but Bucky was there to hold you regardless, smiling at the fact that his touch could calm you down and that it would be over soon - and then he’d spend entire days making up for everything that fell short because of that viscous degree.

please take care of yourself, just like Bucky would during an exhausting time like this 💛

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[littlereddream]

Upcomings

Well. As a result of my poll, I realized that I couldn’t pick just one thing to write. Instead, I want to put out the two most popular options on the poll + an additional bonus one not included in the poll. While I have no timeframe for when these will be up, I thought I’d at least post a teaser :)

Venom! Jason Todd x Reader

There’s no question that you love your boyfriend. Dating Jason feels like stumbling upon a lottery, like digging for silver and finding gold instead. Unbelievably sweet and attentive, though undeniably sarcastic, having Jason around felt like you were floating on clouds. Never had it once crossed your mind that your boyfriend might be the Red Hood, the very same criminal eating vigilante currently stalking towards you after tearing off the heads of your kidnappers.

Vampire! Jason Todd x Reader

You want to believe it isn’t true. You want to believe that Dick isn’t the Vampire King, that he didn’t turn Jason to be his Right Hand, that the man you love isn’t circling around you, narrowing dark red eyes at you. Surviving your dismantled world was hard enough, but being taken back to their overtaken city might just kill you. No matter how much you wish that those now unfamiliar eyes were green again, they don’t look any less like blood.

Bonus: Cowboy! Jason Todd x Reader

After a debt to the leader of one of New Jersey’s largest gangs lands you in trouble, you have little else choice but to do what the man says. If he demands that you waltz your way into Hood’s camp and hand yourself over, claiming that you’re a surrendering member of their rival gang to save one of their own, then that’s what you’ll do. You aren’t expecting to be treated like any royalty, of course, but it’s another level of surprise when you seem to catch the interest of the infamous Red Hood himself.

I hope you guys are as excited for these as I am :)