#mr punk keep up the good work

[dilf-in-peril]

Ripped this straight from twitter... that's Malakai Black. Crazy.

[holylulusworld]

Every breath you take (6)

Summary: There is a shadow following you. He doesn’t know what he got himself into.

Pairing: Stalker!Bucky Barnes x fem!Reader

Warnings: stalking, being stalked, loneliness, a man out of time, secret admirer trope, longing, drugging, kinda home invasion

A/N: You all made me do it! Here’s the series to this random idea: Stalker Bucky & Crazy Reader

A/N2: This is a Bucky centered chapter.

Catch up here: Every Breath You Take (5)

Every Breath You Take Masterlist

“How was your week, Mr. Barnes? Did you leave your apartment to meet people?” His therapist watches Bucky closely. “Last time you talked about Sam Wilson, and that you helped him with a boat.”

“Sam came around and we ate together,” Bucky chooses his words wisely. He keeps out, that he was busy watching you change your curtains before Sam dragged him out of his apartment. “It was nice…I think.”

“Good, that’s good,” she clicks her pen and glances at the clock. Twenty minutes gone and Bucky barely said anything. “What else can you tell me about your week?”

“I bought a new bed for Alpine,” he explains for a few minutes Alpine ignored the bed until Bucky put it next to his mattress. Again, he leaves out that he still has no bed, and that he sleeps on a mattress on the ground. “Oh, and the vet said the little punk is healthy. A good week.”

“What else?” She presses on. There is a change in Bucky’s behavior, and she wants to know what caused the change. He’s less tense and doesn’t avoid answering questions.

“I—” he drops his eyes to his hands. Bucky wrinkles his forehead, asking himself if he can tell her about you.

“What is it, Mr. Barnes?” She leans forward to look at his hands. “You are safe here. Nothing you’ll tell me will leave these walls. I’d never break your trust.”

He inhales deeply to prepare himself to tell her about you. Of course, he cannot tell her that you’re his obsession and that he’s watching you from afar.

“I met a nice woman,” he splutters before he chickens out. “It’s…uh…we didn’t have a date yet, but I bought her flowers. She’s really nice…”

“Oh,” that picked her interest. She leans back in her chair to take more notes. “What else can you tell me about her?”

“She likes fluffy things,” he smiles softly, remembering how you cuddled the plushie he bought for you. “Flowers too. She has a lot of orchids and just got new curtains.”

“That’s…” she considers her next words. Bucky finally opens up some more, and she doesn’t want to ruin his trust. “She sounds nice, you’re right.”

He nods eagerly while wringing his hands. “I want to take things slow,” Bucky immediately points out. “I still need to get used to my new life. Being a burden to my doll is the last thing I want to do. She deserves the world, a stable man, and a nice home.”

“You already thought about this a lot,” she concludes. “Does she want to take things slow too? Did you talk about it?”

“I,” he exhales sharply. “I told her a few things, and she agreed that we can take things slow.” Bucky lies. He cannot reveal that you don’t even know who he is. “She’s an angel, doc. I’m sure about it.”

She nods and takes another note. “You shouldn’t put her on a pedestal. If she fails to fulfill your standards or fantasy you’ll disappointed.”

“She could never disappoint me,” Bucky frowns deeply. “Why are you saying things like that? She’s a beautiful person. Inside and outside. Why would I ever be disappointed in her? If someone will disappoint, it’s gonna be me!”

“I believe you, Mr. Barnes. I only wanted to tell you that people often make the mistake of thinking too highly of a new partner,” she tries to calm Bucky. He’s worked up and she changes her tactic. “Do you have an idea for your first date?”

His eyes light up. “Yes. I’m going to invite her for dinner. My dating skills are a bit rusty, but I think I still know about the basics.” He grins. “Pull a chair, compliment her outfit, not staring at anything but her pretty face.”

“I know a nice little restaurant if you need a perfect place for a date,” she doesn’t give away that she believes it’s too soon for Bucky to date.

“Uh—if the time has come, I’ll ask you about the restaurant. We agreed on exchanging letters and chatting. As I said, we want to take things slow. She doesn’t need a mess in her life.”

“You’re not a mess, Mr. Barnes. Given the circumstances, you are holding up just great. There’s a lot in this new life for you to discover, but I have faith in you.”

He nods and puts a fake smile on his face. Bucky could hear his therapist’s heart beat faster when he first mentioned you. He knows she’s not happy with his choice to bring you into his life.

“I bought a table and two chairs,” he tries to change the topic. “My walls are still almost naked, but I’ll take care of that problem too.”

“Very good!” She encourages Bucky to turn his apartment into a home. Her eyes drift toward the clock and she sighs. “Oh my, look at the time!” She taps her watch. “This was fruitful, Mr. Barnes. You are making great progress.”

“Thank you, doc,” Bucky hastily gets up. He’s got plans for today. Plans involving you…

“The white one, please,” you say, and point at the white orchid at the flower shop. “One of my orchids died. The white one.” You sniffle. “I don’t know why.”

“Sometimes plants just give up in the wrong environment,” the owner of the flower shop carelessly says. She doesn’t know that her words feel like a stab to your heart.

“B-but I did everything for her! All of my other orchids are fine,” you wrinkle your nose to push the tears away. You’re close to your period and your emotions are all over the place. “How can you say something like that?”

You look away, eyes roaming the small flower shop. The only other customer looks at you for a second before he drops his gaze to look at a rubber tree.

He’s hiding behind a ball cap, tugging at it as you watch him. One of his hands is covered by a black glove, and you wonder if he’s hiding a scar, or a missing digit.

“Miss, did you hear me?” You tear your eyes off the man to turn your attention back toward the woman. “Do you want anything else? Fertilizer, maybe.”

She gives you a sugar-sweet smile, but you know, mentioning the fertilizer was another jab. “No,” you square your jaw. “I got more than enough fertilizer for my orchids. I only want the orchid, nothing else.”

You pay for the orchid, take the plant, and leave the flower shop. That woman ruined your mood, and you want to get back home as fast as possible.

“That wasn’t nice,” Bucky angrily glares at the woman as he steps closer to her, the rubber tree tugged under his arm. “She lost a flower she liked, and you blamed her. Sometimes pretty things just die. There is nothing she could’ve done to save the flower.”

She huffs and snatches the rubber tree out of Bucky’s hands. “I guess this one will die soon too. You’re all the same. You want pretty plants only to let them die.”

Bucky inhales sharply. If he could, he’d tell the woman to rethink her attitude, but he’s got better things to do than fight with a random person he’ll never see again.

“Shush, doll,” Bucky gently runs his hand over your hair. He murmurs your name while settling behind you to wrap his arms around your body. He buries his face in your neck, inhaling your scent deeply.

It pains him that he had to spike your water bottles, but he cannot hold you if you are awake. You’d freak out and hate him. Bucky wants to do this right. Even if he actions lately are the opposite.

“I know you needed me today. The pain meds and heating pad will help you relax, and I’m here for you, doll. Soon we’ll never be apart. I just need to prepare our new home first. Everything must be perfect for you, Y/N.”

Part 7

Tags in reblog.

[blacklegsanjiii]

How about an allsan au where almoat everyman he meets absolutely fumbles for him when they spend only 5 minutes with him, he ofcourse is oblivious (hes not even bi in denial he's just stupid)

It starts ofcourse with zoro seeing him hold up a marine by the throat, Gin and Luffy being given food out of kindness and nothing else, Ace, crocodile being impressed by the mr prince tricks and so on so on

Also lots of men flirt with him on island but are quickly chased away by a glare and a sword to the throat or a guy wrapping around the pretty boy demanding food (or the good old possessive hat placement)

You decide the end couple but the whole of blue fumble for Sanji fr fr

Give this man all the simps.

Zoro choking on his drink as watches Sanji lift a marine by the throat which makes Usopp and Nami giggle at him. Gin falling for him as he eats the best food he's ever had in his whole fucking life that's keeping him from starving to death. Luffy falls in love with the way he talks about the All Blue and cares about his job and others. He's so fucking kind.

Ace falls for the guy who takes care of the others and doesn't let guests work, who spoils the handful of a little brother he has. Sir Crocodile who thinks the blond is cute and clever, who set up chances for his captain to save the crew and then him. Koza who sees how well he's taken care of his princess and the help he's given to take back Alabasta. He still insists on helping to serve and cook and Cobra is giving Koza knowing looks that make him flush and avert his eyes from the king and the cook.

Maybe it's after the time skip, after Dressrosa when Barto is literally drooling over the 'ONLY ALIVE' poster that Law is flustered and asking Luffy and Zoro about the cook. They're staring at him as Robin is giggling to herself because they are possessive. Both of them. It's the Monster Trio. Sanji is oblivious. Both of them are grumbling about Sanji not seeing their obvious interest but it's Sanji. If someone doesn't hit him over the head with a four by four he's not going to take the hint. Ask all of Tashigi's men from Punk Hazard who were crying at the cook not taking their advances. Okay maybe he just needs to be beaten with said four by four. Pedro straight up sacrifices himself for Sanji and Sanji only feels bad he's dead and that his life ended coming to get him.

You got the rest of the North Blue Boys who are obsessing over Stealth Black and Law feels like throwing up if it wouldn't insult the cook, he's so fucking excited. Luffy is over the fucking moon to see it in action. Yamato looking at Sanji from across the party and Luffy asks him what's up and he's just like Law with the whole 'the cook' thing. MARCO KNOWS better, he knows how to make an impression so at one point he's just talking to Sanji and Sanji keeps looking between Marco and whatever he thinks he needs to be doing so Marco just lightly grabs Sanji's chin and says it's rude to not focus on the person you're talking with. Sanji is so red and stuttering as Luffy wraps a rubber arm around Sanji screaming for meat as Sanji is ripped from in front of Marco to like the other side of the room.

Maybe it would end with zolusan or whatever the ship is called. Zoro asks if they have to do what Marco did after all the flirting he and Luffy have been doing for all of their sailing together and Sanji just being confused at what they're talking about.

[maple-tree-hills]

Percy Jackson AU where instead of Poseidon being absent in Percy’s life, he helps raise him. But Percy doesn’t know his dad is Poseidon. He thinks Peter Johnson is a marine biologist and a fisherman who is frequently on long business trips for his job. Maybe Sally and Poseidon are divorced, and she marries Smelly Gabe or maybe they’re still together, who knows.

Just, instead of Percy being in anger at the gods for neglecting their children he’s in disbelief that his very normal father is Poseidon. They go on fishing trips together all the time and he dresses like a tacky Hawaiian tourist. Not a god. He refuses to believe this despite Grover being a satyr, and Mr. Brunner being a centaur.

I’m not sure if Percy should know all of the gods or not. Maybe he knows Mr. D already as Cousin Dexter. Cousin Dexter has shown up a couple of times in his life. He’s a devil for the drink and a known alcoholic, so why is he at this weird camp playing cards with Grover and Mr. Brunner? And they start talking about the gods and demigods again. And Mr. D calls him ‘mortal.’ And Percy’s like yeah, no Cousin Dexter has had a bit too much to drink despite the fact that he can’t smell any alcohol on him, and he’s only been drinking Diet Coke. Percy switches subjects as to why Mr. D isn’t drinking any alcohol. Apparently, his father won’t let him drink alcohol anymore and is forcing him to work at this summer camp. Percy is happy to hear this because at least someone isn’t having Cousin Dexter’s shit anymore.

Then they switch gears back into the conversion about gods existing and he’s sure Grover, or Mr. Brunner, or Mr. D will say sike, but none of them do. They all seriously believe in the gods. Well Percy is stubborn and won’t be convinced this easily.

And then he finds out that Hades stole the master bolt and has his mother, and he’s like uncle Hector? Uncle Hector is a god of the underworld? And he has my mother and stole Zeus’s lightning bolt? No way. Uncle Hector lives in LA and works at a music producing studio. He is not the god of the underworld. He is not Hades, this is insane and Percy does not appreciate being punked. He’ll admit some supernatural stuff is real because a minatur killed his mom, but being a demigod no way.

And they keep telling Percy about the family drama and he’s still in disbelief. All he knows about uncle Zane is that his father is not on good terms with him. There’s no way uncle Zane who his father HATES, who works in the Empire State Building is Zeus. There’s just no way.

And then he finds out about the Big Three and forbidden children thing. And he goes ‘That can’t be true uncle Hector has two kids: cousin Bianca and cousin Nico.’ And he just accidentally spoils to everyone that Hades has not kept his end of the pact about fathering more mortal children.

And then they’re on the road going through quests fighting against Alecto again, Echidna, and Medusa and Percy still can’t believe the gods are real.

It isn’t until he gets to the underworld that he starts believing. There seated on a dark throne surrounded by skeletons is Uncle Hector? Uncle Hector is actually Hades? He’s freaking out he’s never seen his uncle this way before. He’s terrifying and keeps demanding this Helm of Darkness thing in exchange for his mother. Where’s Nico he wants to hang out with his cousin?

And maybe Percy sasses him because what the heck uncle Hector sending furies after your nephew and holding your sister-in-law hostage and accusing your nephew of theft is not cool. And things for the most part will proceed like they do in the book for the most part. I could see Hades when he’s pretending to be a human behaving similarly to Jay Duplass’s portrayal of him in the TV show. Just a comical uncle who is most certainly not lord of the underworld.

(I’ve only seen the TV and I’ve almost finished the first book so far, but I do know Hades has two kids named Bianca and Nico)

[copperbadge]

The Adventures Of Joe Superfly

I haven't been able to work on Chicken Salad War much recently -- it's less writer's block and more a confluence of issues that mean when I have the time I'm too tired for something novel-sized. It's temporary, but when I don't get to write I do start to get restless.

So the other night as I was doing dishes I circled around to a small issue that keeps nipping at me, which is Ephraim. He's got the most normal name of any of the Ramblers, which is uncharacteristic of Ceece and Tully. Well, I thought, maybe they let Eddie name him, but why would they let Eddie, the oldest, name the youngest, and not the THREE OTHERS inbetween? And why would Eddie pick Ephraim?

I decided to do up a little story about Eph, how he came by his name and what his life experiences have been. Much of it's a spoiler that needs a content warning but I figured I'd share a brief fun scene. Also it's good practice for writing Eph's somewhat elliptical style of speech; he is a man who gives no unnecessary context, and sometimes no necessary context. (All the context you all need to know is that Ephraim's parents wanted to name him Cherry Windward and instead Eddie named him Ephraim Prunus.)

Noah was on dishes duty with Joan, Ed's newly adopted eldest daughter, the evening that Ephraim found Ed on the porch of the royal fishing lodge. He sat next to him companionably, rocking on the porch swing and looking out at the lake.

"How many different names do you think you'll have in your life?" he asked without preamble. Ed laughed.

"I don't know. I think once you become a king the name locks in place," he said. "I've been Theophile and Ted and Ed and Eddie, and now back around to Theophile, at least in public. And then there's 'Dad' too. Why do you ask?"

Ephraim shrugged. "Monday was telling Jes about you naming me. Got to thinking about it."

"Well, you did return the favor eventually," Ed said. "Ed has suited me. Thinking of changing your name?"

"I was thinking of going by Prunus," Ephraim said, with such a deadpan expression that Ed hesitated, then burst out laughing when Eph smiled.

"Punk," he said, shoving Ephraim gently. "I only gave you that one to make mom and dad feel better about you having a normal-ass name. Man, you could see Dad's gears turning. We can always call him Pru."

Ephraim cackled. "Pru! Funny. I guess just…thanks."

"For what, big guy?" Ed asked.

"I didn't think I'd ever see Europe. Didn't think anyone outside Santa Luna would understand," Ephraim said. "But you went all over the world and found somewhere just like home. And I get to be here too. Which means maybe…I can be other places as well."

"There will always be a place for you, anywhere I am," Ed said seriously.

"Yes but also. They get it." Ephraim put on a lilting Shivadh accent. "That's Ephraim, he's King Theophile's brother, he doesn't say much but he's a good lad. No, you let Mr. Rambler alone, he's just shy. Hello young Ephraim, point out what you want to order when you're ready." He looked back out at the lake. "They're kind. I could thrive here."

"But not just yet, huh?" Ed asked. "Not with Noah leaving soon. He's going to Aotearoa and then coming to California, where you'll be."

"Yes."

"And after he graduates?" Ed asked delicately. "Maybe both of you back here?"

Ephraim turned to him. "I don't have a five year plan," he said witheringly, and this time Ed knew he was teasing.

"You son of a -- how dare you accuse me of asking you for a five year plan! Like I'm some kind of responsible adult? Roasted by my own blood!"

"You need it, Your Majesty," Ephraim said, then sobered. "I don't know yet. We'll figure it out."

"I'm sure you will."

"If you were going to name me again, what would you pick?"

Ed tousled his hair. "Buddy, you are now and forever Ephraim to me unless someday you tell me otherwise. I can't name you again. I don't think you need it, you're only just growing into that one. But if you did want a new name, I think you'd have to come up with it yourself -- or ask Noah."

Ephraim nodded thoughtfully. "I'm okay. Just curious."

"I think if you do you should move even more towards the extremes, though. From Cherry Windward to Ephraim Prunus to, I dunno, Joe Superfly."

"Joe Superfly!" Ephraim crowed. "Joe Superfly Rambler!"

"The twins should be glad we named them Edward and Miranda," Ed mused.

"Edward Superfly," Ephraim gasped.

"It's a great movie!"

"Miranda Shaft!" Ephraim blurted, and both brothers laughed until they cried.

[peterman-spideyparker]

since you’re literally my FAVOURITE matt murdock writer, i had to slip this by you :’) <3

high pain tolerance bf vs “noo i got a papercut” gf trope pls

Nonny, you are way too sweet!! :'') I love this!! TBH, I've had this written probably for a few months on my phone, but I ended my day with a nasty paper cut, and it reminded me to post! I hope you like it!

Tolerance (Matt Murdock x fem!Reader)

Warning: Fluff and sweet domesticity, canon-typical injuries/Matt getting patched up

“Almost done, Matty,” you tell him as you work to stitch up the wound on his side.

“It’s really not that bad—it didn’t need stitches,” he tries to insist. 

“Matthew, I can literally see inside of you,” you sigh. “Don’t go Monty Python on me.”

“I’ve been in worse scrapes, and you know that.”

“I do know that, and I don’t like that you’ve been in worse scrapes.”

“I have been more careful, though.”

“I appreciate it. But shut up.”

“Argumentative.”

“Badgering!”

“You’re doing the badgering, angel.”

“And you’re being argumentative,” you counter as you tie off his wound.

“I see my legal skills have rubbed off on you.”

“Yeah, yeah,” you smirk, kissing his forehead. “I’m just glad you’re back down to your normal amount of holes now.”

You watch as the confusion dances across Matt’s face, absorbing the weirdness of your statement before you notice him slip into careful thought as he goes over his anatomy. 

“Was . . . Was that supposed to be a compliment or insult?” he tries. 

You begin to giggle uncontrollably before you lean over to kiss the top of his head, moving to gather all the scraps from patching him up.

“Compliment,” you clarify. “My big, strong, brave Daredevil is all patched up.”

“Sweetheart—.”

“Don’t brush off your nightly beatings like you’re being tickled with a feather duster. You have an unusually high pain tolerance.”

“That part is the Catholicism,” he says with a lopsided smile.

“Yeah, yeah, either way, you should see a medical professional about that brain of yo—hmmm!” you whimper. 

“(Y/N)?” Matt asks, snapping his attention toward you, doing his best to get up as fast as he can with his wounds restricting him. 

“‘M okay.”

“Not with that whine.” He grunts and shuffles his way over toward you, his hand wrapping around your own that covers your wound. “What’s wrong, sweetheart?”

“It really hurts,” you mutter, keeping your head tilted down. 

“What happened?”

You stay quiet.

“(Y/N)—.”

“Paper cut,” you grumpily admit. 

“You . . . Got a paper cut?”

“It’s big and it’s deep and it’s not in a good spot!” you whine. Now it’s his turn to laugh. “Matty, it’s not funny, it really hurts!”

“Need me to kiss it better?”

“Well, I’m not opposed, but not if you’re gonna laugh at me!”

“I could never laugh at you, angel, just the things you do and how you make me feel.” He exposes the cut and lifts your hand to his lips for a soft, sweet kiss. “Does that feel better?”

“A little,” you admit. “It really stings. And I’ll have you know that I put up with a hell of a lot of pain for a week every month just to have your babies one day!”

An amused smile pulls across his lips. 

“You just said—!” you start. 

“You wanna have my babies?” he asks as the smile on his face grows even bigger, his eyes sparkling with pure, unadulterated happiness. 

“Well . . . Yeah. I love you, Matt, and I’d be a big fat liar if I said I didn’t think about our future together.”

“How about when my ribs are in better shape and any superfluous holes have closed, we get some baby-making practice in.” 

You feel your face grow hot as you blush deeply. 

“You’re so cute when you’re bashful,” he hums, angling his head so he can kiss you. 

“You know, Mr. Super-sense, if you weren’t covered in holes . . . !” Your mouth turns into an angry pucker as you try to think of where you were going the insult of your sentence.

“Yeah, angel?” What a punk, he is. 

“Just shut up and kiss me, okay?”

“Okay,” he smiles brightly, bringing his lips to yours, cradling your head with his hand.

You happily return his embraces, getting carried away and lost in his lips before you manage to pull back. “There goes that blood loss, taking control of your mouth again,” you blush as his hands happily settle on your waist. “Let’s get you to bed before I have to give Claire a buzz, hm? I can only patch up holes in your body so well.”

Another soft chuckle escapes his lips as he kisses your again before turning and letting you guide him to the mattress and tuck him in so he can get a few hours sleep before he goes to defend his city once more, albeit in a less physical capacity. 

Permanent Taglist: @majesticavenger​ @steampowerednightvaler​ @themusingsofmany @just-the-hiddles​ @toozmanykids​ @dangertoozmanykids101 @clints-worldavengers @theburningbookshop​ @itwasthereaminuteago​ @peter1ismybrother@hellskitchens-whore​​ @dpaccione​ @catnip987​

[b4mpyre-k1zz3s]

Hooters Waitress Y/N HC’s!

Johnny Knoxville X Fem!Reader, Bam Margera X Fem!Reader, Steve-O X Fem!Reader, Ryan Dunn X Fem!Reader, Chris Pontius X Fem!Reader

Warnings: Suggestive content, flirting, creepy guy mention

An: Thank you so much for sending in requests!! These headcannons were inspired by this fic by @dunnswrld and one of my friends who once jokingly told me she was going to work at Hooters someday! Some of these HC’s were actually based on real events that happened to me or people I know XD anyways, thank you for sending in requests and please keep them coming!

After Jeff had to bail the guys out of jail due to their drunken antics, they were barred from partying for a couple nights,

And yes, that did include any trips down to the hotel bar. This was a huge boner killer because there’s only so much fun you can have getting hammered in your room.

“I mean, I like the guy-” Steve mused about Jeff as he laid back against one of the beds, “but I feel like a caged animal stuck in this joint...“

Inspired by their desperate predicament, Knoxville got an idea everyone was onboard with,

“I think there’s a Hooters across the street…Why don’t we go there?”

Technically a restaurant, Hooters was something that Jeff could let slide.

Now, you didn’t recognize all of them when they walked in, because you only paid attention to Jackass when the cute one was half naked on screen, but you could tell they were famous

Nearly shoving your coworker out of the way, you rushed over to where they had already gotten seated,

“Hiiii! My name’s Y/N, and I’ll be your server tonight!”

Flipping open your little notepad, you turned to the table, “Now, what can I get you boys to drink?”

Johnny spoke up first, sweet as always, “How about a round of beers for me and the guys? Miller High Life if you’ve got 'em, ma’am.”

As you jotted it down, the guys exchanged ‘woah, she’s hot’ glances. I mean, even in the world of Hooter’s waitresses, this lady was something…

And remember how you didn’t recognize all of them at first?

Well, given the fact your main customer base were middle aged men, Bam’s whole skate punk look with the black hoodies and eyeliner and whatnot didn’t exactly scream maturity to you

I’m not even going to mention his height…

Point is, you kinda assumed he was one of their teenage sons or step kids or something, so you bent down and asked him in that patronizing coo,

“Can I get the little prince of darkness anything to drink? We’ve got Sprite, Pepsi…”

After connecting the dots, Bam’s face flushed bright pink.

Part of him was pissed that you thought he was some prepubescent twerp, but at the same time he couldn’t be that mad because this hot piece of ass was being all sweet to him

Ry interjected, putting a paternal hand on his back before Bam could correct you, “The little guy’ll take a chocolate milk.”

That earned him a good, silverware rattling kick under the table.

After you dropped off their beers, you tottered off to tend to other customers and the crew got to discussing their smoking hot waitress.

Johnny, all of a sudden Mr. Polite, stepped in once the conversation got a little too raunchy for his taste, “Alright, boys- let’s be gentlemen here.”

“We’re at Hooters!” Bam scoffed at his resistance, “We don’t have t’be gentlemen!”

Ryan, who never really got the guys’ whole obsession with boobs, rolled his eyes at him, “You’re startin’ to sound like your uncle.”

Taking a sip of his beer, Dunn imitated Vito’s…unique manner of speech, “‘Oh, we’re at hooters! We don’t gotta be gentlemen!’”

“Fuck you.” “Fuck me? Fuck you!”

Finally breaking up the squabble was Steve, who had been busy eyeing your fine ass from across the room, and he leaned over to Bam,

“Hey, little prince of darkness- think’y could knock your crayons on the floor?”

Dropping off their drinks, you glanced around the table at the sleazy expressions that were all looking back at you and you asked if they wanted to order any wings

Flashing you a charming smile, Chris playfully wiggles his eyebrows at you as he put down his menu, “I was gonna ask if you were on the menu, but I’m a vegetarian!”

Steve saw his chance and quickly piped up from across the table, “I’m not!”

It was like some animal planet show, but instead of fighting for territory, they were all competing with each other to see who could get the pretty girl to look at them more.

Sure, it may have been against company policy to give out your number, but that’s only in instances when creepy men pester you about it,

Not so much if you happened to jot down your digits on the bill of a group of very handsome, very charming customers.

[starlightkun]

filler episodes ⏯ teaser [sungchan]

⏯ teaser word count: 1458 | full fic: 16.6k ⏯ warnings: general angst around not knowing what you’re doing with your life, the usual cursing ⏯ genre: fluff, suggestive/steamy but no actual smut, strangers to lovers, band au, punk drummer!sungchan, office worker!reader, not really badboy x good girl trope, more like sungchan has tattoos and reader is… a bit boring and hates her job. but she’s trying!, reader is having a quarter life crisis, ft. shotaro/eunseok/wonbin as sungchan’s bandmates, and nct dream 00 line as reader’s normal friends™ ⏯ estimated release: saturday, june 29, 2024 3:00 p.m. eastern time

Clutching your tote bag strap tighter to your body, you turned onto a street, trying to ignore the sun that was getting lower in the sky. Surely this way would lead towards your apartment. You’d lived in this city your whole life, you could walk from your work to your home, two places that you went to every single day.

There was a tall man outside one of the shops on this street, and you went to skirt around him on the sidewalk as he swept a few stray leaves and dirt out of a bookstore. Other than him, the street was fairly quiet, many of the stores having already closed up for the day.

“What are you doing?” The young man called out to you before you could fully pass him by.

You pivoted around on your heel, quickly looking around to see if there was anybody else that he could possibly be talking to. But it was definitely just you and him.

He looked about your age, wearing a cream pink long-sleeve button down presumably as part of the store uniform, though you weren’t sure if he really needed to have it buttoned all the way to the top button. It seemed a bit too warm out for that.

“Walking. Why?”

“This is the fourth time you’ve walked by here.” He did a sweeping point to the sidewalk in front of the shop, then leaned against the broom he had been cleaning with. “Wasn’t sure if you might have a particular destination in mind.”

“Fuck! I knew I was going in circles!”

“You’re lost.”

“Yeah, this isn’t my normal way home…”

“And your phone died?” He cocked his head curiously.

“No, I’m trying to get home without using my phone map,” you admitted, looking around for any familiar landmarks.

“Why? That’s what it’s for.”

“It’s… You’ll think it’s stupid. My friends did.”

He shrugged. “Probably. But why does that matter to you? I’m just some guy.”

“I’ve been doing something new every day. Just small things. But if I change enough little things, then everything will have changed.”

The guy was quiet for a beat, looking altogether unimpressed, then asked, “Where do you live?”

“Uh…”

“General area, see if I can give you directions from here.”

“Oh, uhm, if you can get me to the tea shop on Magnolia, I can get myself home from there.”

“Jade Gardens, I know it,” he nodded, then pointed left down the street, in the same direction that you had just come from. “That way, left onto North Oak, right onto Foxtail, another right onto Broad Street, it’ll eventually dead end into Magnolia, keep going until you see the tea shop.”

“Left onto North Oak, right onto Foxtail, right onto Broad,” you recited. “Got it, thank you!”

“Stay safe.” He waved you off, returning to sweeping without seeing if you had gone the way he’d pointed you.

It was Monday that you got lost and were given directions home by the questionably friendly but overall helpful bookstore worker, and the tea shop on Magnolia had been on your mind since. So on Thursday, you decided to stop by after work. You were running low on the green tea that you usually kept in stock at home, and thought that you might pick up something new for yourself.

Opening the door to Jade Gardens that Thursday, you were enveloped by the familiar aromatic smells wafting around the small shop. When you didn’t hear the usual kind voice of the owner, Mrs. Choi, greeting you, you peered around the aisle that you were in to look for her.

“Mrs. Choi?” You called out, also not hearing her TV show that she usually was watching behind the counter between helping customers. You were by the black teas anyway, so you didn’t mind wandering into the next aisle as you looked for any other sign of life in the shop.

“She’s not in,” a voice that was definitely not Mrs. Choi informed you right as you turned the corner into the beginning of the green teas. You could see enough of the man’s profile to recognize him as he stood by some of the shelves in the store. The worker from the bookstore. He was standing over an open cardboard box, a couple tins of tea in his hands.

“Uhm…” You trailed off, blinking at him as you weren’t sure exactly what to say. He placed the tins on the shelf.

“You think I’m stalking you, don’t you?” He said flatly, turning to show you the name badge on his longsleeve teal shirt. It was metallic gold, with the name SUNGCHAN engraved into it. “I work here too. For the past six months.”

“Oh, right.” You relaxed, flashing him a smile. As he went back to restocking and you went back to looking at the tea on the shelves that he wasn’t currently stocking, you commented lightly, “I’ve never seen you here before.”

“I work Tuesdays and Thursdays. You ever been here on a Tuesday or a Thursday?”

“No. I always come on Sundays.”

“There you go.” He had emptied the box of product he was restocking from, and carried it into the back. When he reemerged, he stopped behind the register, but engaged you in conversation again, “So is this your new thing for today? Coming on a Thursday instead of Sunday?”

“Yeah.”

“And? Is your whole life different yet?”

“I’ve only been doing this for two weeks…” You replied defensively, looking over at him from the two kinds of green tea that you were debating between.

“Have you done anything new yet?” Sungchan asked, arching an eyebrow.

“That’s the whole point—”

“From what I know, as some guy who doesn’t even know your name, is that you have walked home from work without using the maps on your phone—something you would have done anyway—and gone to a shop that you go to regularly, just on a different day of the week. Have you done anything that you’ve never done before at all?”

“My name is Y/N, by the way.” You bit the inside of your cheek, and grabbed your tea selection. “Ordering a drink I’ve never tried at my usual boba place doesn’t count, does it?”

“You already know the answer, Y/N.”

“The point isn’t to quit my job and travel the world and completely overhaul my life—”

“I thought it was to change everything?”

“If I change enough little things, then—”

“—everything will have changed.” “—everything will have changed.” The two of you finished at the same time, Sungchan putting more emphasis on ‘everything,’ a pointed look on his face.

“I just don’t get how everything is supposed to change by you coming to a tea shop on a different day one time, but still working the same job you hate,” he sighed, crossing his arms over his chest.

“How do you know I hate my job?!” You retorted, bringing your selections up to the counter.

“If you loved it, you wouldn’t be in a crisis about changing your whole life.”

“Do you like your two jobs?”

“They’re fine.” He shrugged, ringing up your purchases.

You handed him your card. “Fine?”

“They’re just my day jobs.”

“And what’s your night job then?”

A smirk grew on his face as he bagged your tins of tea. “Nah.”

“‘Nah?’” You repeated incredulously.

“You’re not doing anything new. No point telling you.”

“If it’s stand-up, I don’t want to know,” you snorted.

“It’s not stand-up.”

“Mm, I don’t know, you’re giving me real stand-up energy right now,” you snipped, gesturing to his entire demeanor. “I’m really glad you haven’t told me, actually, because I can’t control my face when I’m told bad jokes.”

“I don’t do stand-up comedy,” he reiterated with the same calm, self-assured tone, handing you your bag of tea and receipt.

“Considering you’re refusing to tell me, I’m convinced it’s like, open mic nights. Tight fives, not even a full—”

“Not stand-up,” he said again. “But considering how badly you’re begging me to tell you—”

“Pretty sure you’re the one desperately trying to convince me you don’t do stand-up, but—”

“If you really want to do something brand new…” He took your receipt out of your hand, writing on the back of it with a pen that was on the counter. “Make this your thing for tomorrow.”

You accepted the receipt when he held it back out to you. “You still haven’t told me what you do.”

“Live a little. And bring some friends, yeah? Don’t want you getting lonely in the mosh pit.”

Your eyes scanned the address and time he had scrawled on your receipt. “Mosh pit?”

⤷ masterlist

[tinkerbelle05]

Okay but imagine Battinson driving to Kansa for a Batman case and then he just gets lost. Like yea, he traveled for years for training and all but he was mainly focused on the training aspect, not sightseeing. And to make matters worst (because if something can go wrong, with Bruce it most certainly will) he has a busted tire with no tools in sight to fix it.

“Um, excuse me, sir?” Bruce heard a young boy’s voice call out to him. It was two of them, they looked like carbon copies of each other so they must be siblings. Though to Bruce, they looked more like the time laps of a boy who hit a punk phase in his teen years.

This wasn’t exactly a busy street and in his 2 hours of being stuck here, Bruce had only seen 2 cars pass by. He wondered where these kids came from.

He puts on the “Brucie” mask and grinned, “Hello, is there anything you need fellas?”

He knew that Brucie Wayne was widely known throughout the US. He cannot let down his guard and let his cover blow, even if it’s just children who realistically probably had no interest in socialites from a different state.

The light of recognition and surprised hits the older boy's face and he exclaimed, “Your Bruce Wayne?!”

Knew it.

“Yes, I am. And what are y’all’s names?” He made sure to keep his voice light and his smile friendly and open.

“Um..that’s my brother, Jon, and my name’s Conner.” He stammered out. “We noticed that you weren’t moving and wanted to help.”

That was rather nice of the two boys but incredibly naive and unsafe. This could’ve easily been a ruse to lure in unsuspecting people who are too kind. But maybe that’s just the Gothamite in him speaking, you learn early on not to trust strangers, especially those who are being nice to you.

“Yea!” Jon excitedly confirmed and he looked over at Bruce’s car. “It seems like the front tire is busted. Conner can patch it up, he’s pretty good at this kinda stuff.”

It was Bruce’s turn to be surprised now. The boys were both now beaming at him, eager, and the desire to help written clearly on both of their faces. Even though Conner, did not look at all confident in his skills. But Bruce did need the help so he nodded.

While Conner was busy looking over the tire, Jon stayed behind to ask Bruce some questions. Some were getting pretty weird and into the dating part of his life. The boy would ask, “Are you single, sir?”

And before Bruce had the chance to answer, he’d give him another one and another one. He caught all of them of course and was getting ready to deflect. But then he saw the puppy smile and the little dimples. He wondered if the boy’s parents had this much trouble saying no to him.

He caved and answered yes to all of the questions but honestly, he never considered dating an option. He had many roles to fill and even more, secrets to keep that having a romantic partner seemed too out of reach for him to even entertain things like types or preferences.

“Would you date a divorced person with kids?” Jon asked with slight hope in his blue eyes. That was a rather odd and specific question.

What would Brucie say in this situation? What would Bruce say? Well, he had multiple kids at home so refusing someone else for having their own would be strange of him. “No, I would not mind.”

“That’s great,” came his reply.

“Um, Mr. Wayne, you wouldn’t mind if I called my Pa then? The tire needs to be replaced and he’s better than me when it comes to that part. I would also hate to accidentally mess up your car.” Conner told him and Bruce nodded once again.

A few moments later as Bruce and the boys converse in small talk, he saw a vibrant red pickup pulled up beside them and saw a god walk out. Tall and sun-kissed skin with waves of black hair and cornflower blue eyes. He was beautiful, there was nothing much to it.

“Hello there! My son called, said you needed some help with your car?”

All Bruce could do was nod and move out of the way so the man could work. He was used to feeling tongue-tied, gals he didn’t want to attend, and board meetings that could have easily been an email. But those were situations, not a singular person.

He looked up from his kneeling position-why the sun shine on him like that?- and introduced himself, “By the way, name’s Clark Kent. Let's see what we're working with here.” And then returned to his work.

Bruce nodded once again and the sounds of giggling children could be heard. They were giving their Dad encouragement.

It was much needed too, Clark looked like a fish out of water. Bruce knew how to replace the tire, he just didn't have any tools or a spare tire with him. Which was foolish of him, he knows. But he couldn't really think right now, with Clark in front of him. Plus, he didn't want to overstep Clark, maybe he had a process.

(Yes, a process that included staring at the tire and the spare he brought in his truck.)

After a very long 3 hours, Clark got the tire securely on and with no chance of falling off, as it did the last 3 times before.

Bruce cleared his throat, “Thank you, Mr. Kent.”

He flounders for a “your welcome” and then silence as they both stare at each other. “Would you like to go eat at a diner? It's rather hot so an ac and a cool drink might stop you from catching a heat stroke.”

Bruce thinks this over and nods, “Yes, that would be nice. What about your kids?”

Clark’s eyes made their way to them and before he gave an answer, Conner beat him to it.

“Oh, don't worry about us, Mr. Wayne. I got my driver’s license so I’ll drive us back home in Dad’s pickup. Let’s go, Jon.” The boy flashes his driver’s license for both men to see.

“Okay, get home safe, and re-“

“Yes, yes, we will remember to call you,” Jon says dismissively. He comes closer to give his father a hug (how cute, Bruce thinks) and whispers something.

Bruce couldn't catch what was said with Jon’s quiet voice and his head facing away. But whatever it was turned Clark into a blushing mess.

“Yes, I will. Off you go now.” Clark pushes his son into the direction of the pickup and turns to Bruce. “Shall we?”

“Yes, we shall.” Bruce says getting to the car. “I’ll pay for dinner, as a thank you. This is non-negotiable, Clark.”

He chuckles, “Okay, fine. But I get to drive then. Deal?”

“Deal.”

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[talesofadragon]

𝐏𝐚𝐢𝐧𝐭 𝐌𝐞 𝐌𝐢𝐝𝐧𝐢𝐠𝐡𝐭 𝐁𝐥𝐮𝐞

Chapter IV - Synopsis: Steve had resigned himself to being the perpetual third wheel—Tony and Pepper, Clint and Laura, Bucky and Natasha. But with Y/N and Nyla, it felt different. It was almost as if he was meant to be part of their world.

Pairing: Professor!Steve Rogers x Student!Reader/Mum!Reader

Warnings: Age Gap (14 years. Both are adults), teacher/student dynamic, abusive relationship, gaslighting, emotional manipulation, terrible partner, co-parenting. 

Genre: Angst | Fluff | Emotional Hurt/Comfort | Slow Burn | Age Gap | Teacher/Student

Word Count: 6K Words

All Masterlists | Paint Me Midnight Blue Masterlist

“𝐀𝐁𝐒𝐎𝐋𝐔𝐓𝐄𝐋𝐘 𝐍𝐎𝐓, 𝐌𝐈𝐒𝐒𝐘. I will not have you corrupted by the Rogers’ dour genes. You’re too good for that stick-up-the-ass attitude!

A laugh tumbled from Y/N’s lips, her chest vibrating with the sound. She pulled her glasses from her nose, her previous scowl giving way to a playful smirk. “Professor Barnes,” she greeted joyfully, glancing at the man by the door. 

Though best friends, Steve and Bucky were strikingly different. While Steve was sunkissed adorning a radiant smile and aureate locks, Bucky was night sky personified. His dusky hair accentuated his starlit eyes–a rich shade of deep blue that effortlessly commanded attention. Despite their contrasting appearances—one radiant and the other shadowed—their exteriors were deceiving. Steve’s sunny demeanor occluded his serious side, while Bucky’s dark exterior masked a surprisingly playful nature.

“Y/N, doll. You’re a staff member now,” Bucky said, his tone carrying a teasing edge. “I told you to stop calling me Professor.”

“A lot of the staff call you that. Faculty, too,” Y/N replied with a grin.

Bucky narrowed his eyes at her and moved closer to her desk. “Did you pick up the Rogers’ cheek, too?”

“No,” Y/N said with a shrug, her smirk unwavering. “That’s all mine. Professor Rogers only has it because he caught it from me, not the other way around.”

Bucky chuckled, tilting his head to one side. He pulled up a chair and settled into it. At first glance, Steve’s office seemed smaller than his own, which was surprising since Steve was the Head of a department. A closer look revealed that the space only appeared compact because it held iridescent portraits, easels, and shelves. This gave it a vibrant and distinctly Steve-like feel—charming, inviting, and brimming with energy.

Bucky had to admit, Y/N fit perfectly into this lively setting.

“Speaking of Steve, where’s the punk?”

“He’s in a meeting with Mr. Stark,” Y/N replied. “He should be back soon. His next class is in thirty minutes.”

“Have you had lunch yet?” Bucky asked. When Y/N shook her head, he waved the paper bag he’d been holding in the air, swinging it from side to side like a prized trophy. “Call me your fairy godmother and blow me a kiss. I’ve got just the thing.”

Y/N squealed in delight, eagerly clearing the desk. Over the past few weeks, the History Professor had managed to break down her walls as if they were never there. He was easy to talk to and laugh with, making her feel completely at ease. Steve, who was now her boss as well as her professor, and Bucky often dropped by each other’s offices for friendly chats and quick catch-ups.

Given their close friendship, Y/N had come to know Bucky better. He always greeted her with a warm smile in the corridors and helped keep her sane when she dove too deep into her work. She had never seen this side of him before she started working as Steve’s assistant.

Y/N took a bite of her food, a pleasured sound resounding from deep within her. “It always surprises me how good our cafeteria’s tacos are. They’re even better than Taco Bell’s!”

“I’m not usually a fan of food that’s not homemade, but these tacos are definitely worth the hype,” Bucky nodded vehemently, practically drooling over his taco.

“They are really good.”

“Just good? They’re perfection! I’d trade Steve for these tacos. Whatever magic Chef Wong is working, it’s worth any sacrifice.”

“Nice to know that two decades of friendship amount to a cafeteria taco the size of my palm, Buck,” Steve’s voice interrupted the conversation. 

There he was, casually leaning against the doorframe, his muscular arms defined beneath his fitted red-striped polo shirt. As he entered the room, his keen eyes immediately caught the small smudge of drool at the corner of Y/N’s mouth. She jumped in her seat, her hands darting up in a futile attempt to wipe it away. Her face flushed with a mix of surprise and embarrassment.

“Professor Rogers,” she said, trying to regain her composure.

“Steve, Y/N,” Steve insisted with a warm, reassuring smile. He raised a hand as she stood, signaling for her to stay seated. He walked over to the desk with easy-going strides. “You can call me by my first name outside of class hours. No need for formality here.”

“She doesn’t even use my name, and I’m not her professor,” Bucky provided with a mouthful of taco. He didn’t care if Steve saw him devouring the palm-sided delight voraciously. He was well on his way to polish off the entire stash and leave Steve with nothing but crumbs for lunch.

“That’s because you’re a nuisance, Bucky.”

“Yeah, right. Alzheimer must’ve caught up with you if you forgot who used to make all the ladies swoon.”

“Used to,” Steve replied with a smirk as he crossed the room, closing the distance between the doorframe and his desk. “Should I call Laufesyson to give you a refresher on the difference between the past and the present?”

“Alright, listen up, ‘Captain America.’” Bucky rolled his eyes, his tone light but teasing. “Just because you’ve got that brooding artist vibe going on now doesn’t mean every woman’s falling for it.”

“No,” Steve conceded as he picked up a nacho and dipped it in sauce. He glanced over at Y/N, subtly motioning for her to join them and eat. She complied, a smile of amusement easily visible on her face. “Just the ones that count.”

Bucky snorted, a mischievous grin spreading across his face. “Oh, so we’re talking about the ones that can actually be counted? How many admirers are we talking, Steve—one finger’s worth or are we stretching it to a whole hand?”

“Well, one finger is most definitely worth highlighting in this conversation.”

Steve saw Y/N’s hand fly to her mouth, her shoulders shaking as she coughed loudly, tears of amusement welling in her eyes. She desperately tried not to laugh, but it looked like she might have choked on her drink in the process.

Bucky didn’t share the amusement. He placed his hand over his heart, his face etched in mock offense. “If there weren’t a lady in the room, I would’ve shown you that finger.”

“Flash it all you want, Buck. I’m still not putting a ring on it,” Steve quipped, playfully tapping his bare ring finger. “Try asking Chef Wong to magic you a pick-me-up. It’s worth a shot.”

Y/N’s laugh erupted from her, sending her sprawling back in her chair. She kicked her feet in the air, her hands barely able to stifle the full force of her laughter. Steve joined in, their laughter a chorus of merriment that filled the room above Bucky’s feigned impassivity. He scoffed, reaching for his beer and taco, mumbling something about not being appreciated enough, though everyone knew he was only pretending to be offended.

As soon as the office door closed behind Bucky, Y/N and Steve exchanged a quick glance. Steve bit his lower lip while Y/N inhaled deeply, her cheeks puffing as she tried to contain her laughter. They couldn’t hold it in any longer and burst out laughing, gripping the table, their stomachs, or whatever was within reach.

Their laughter eventually subsided enough for them to catch their breath. Steve’s eyes remained on Y/N as she tucked a loose strand of hair behind her ear. She gently tapped her rosy cheeks, almost as if soothing them. Reaching for her water bottle, she took a sip, completely unaware that Steve’s gaze never left her.

“He wasn’t too annoying before I got here, was he?” Steve asked casually, picking up his taco to continue his lunch.

Y/N shook her head, mirroring his action. “No. Professor Barnes—Bucky, should I call him that or stick with James? Anyway, he was just keeping me company. He’s really nice.”

Steve bit the inside of his cheek, pretending to wipe his mouth to hide his growing smile. “Bucky. He prefers Bucky. And yeah, for all the years I’ve known the jerk, he’s always been the best man I know.”

The seconds following his response were filled with silence. While Steve continued eating, not overly concerned with the lack of conversation, he couldn’t help but notice Y/N’s hesitation. She nibbled on her lower lip, a habit he had seen her do often.

Her eyes lowered to her shoes as her voice wavered, “He’s not…you’re not—I mean. This isn't all about Nyla, is it?”

They hadn’t discussed Nyla at all—neither during office hours nor outside of them. Steve had only asked about her on the day Y/N took the job as his assistant and was permitted to enroll Nyla in the university’s Early Childhood Center. He was careful not to cross any invisible boundaries, so Nyla was only mentioned when Y/N brought her up.

He wanted to place a reassuring hand on Y/N’s arm but wasn’t sure if it would be appropriate. Even though she was his assistant and more than just any student now, he couldn’t predict how she might react. So, Steve settled for words, the only encouragement he could offer in this situation.

“Whatever circumstances have affected your personal life are yours. We’re not judging you for that. And, if it helps, we actually admire you for it.”

“Admire me?” Y/N raised her head, her shock rebounding against the walls.

“Yes.”

She stared at him in disbelief, her eyebrows creasing at his reassurance. “What’s there to admire?” The self-deprecation in her voice crawled under his skin, unsettling him in a way he couldn’t quite explain.

Steve pushed aside his food, clearing the space between them. He leaned forward, his elbows resting on the desk, reducing the distance between them. They were still a few inches apart with enough personal space to breathe easily. Yet Y/N’s composure faltered, her attention exclusively dedicated to the peach polish on her nails.

“You’re a good student, Y/N. You were good before we knew you were a mom, and you’ve only gotten better since. You put effort into everything you do, never offering excuses. Just dedication. Mid-terms are a few weeks away, and you’ve helped me draft the exams, taught your daughter, cared for her after school, and still managed to get the highest grades in my class. Bucky told me you were a great student, but I think you’ve redefined what ‘great’ means.”

She wore peach like the first blooms of spring—on her nails, across her cheeks, even her lips. Steve noticed the soft, peachy tint that added a delicate charm to her already captivating smile.

To his surprise, her hand brushed lightly against the back of his, and his breath caught in his throat. He paused, as if trying to freeze the moment, unsure of its reality. He dared to blink, eyes darting to where their hands were now lightly connected.

“Thank you, Professor,” Y/N whispered, her voice soft but filled with emotion. “What you said, and everything you’ve done, means a lot to me.”

“Steve,” he corrected. Not because he wanted to hear how his name sounded on her lips. No, that would be inappropriate. All Steve ever wanted was to make her comfortable. It was unfair. The world had been a cruel mistress to her and her sweet daughter. And if he had the power to help her—even just a little bit—he’d do it.

“Steven,” Y/N muttered with a nod.

“My government name? Seriously?”

“What? You’re still my professor.”

“You didn’t call Barnes by his government name,” he remarked, drumming his fingers against the wood. 

Y/N smirked, a glint of mischief lighting her irises. “Very well observed, Steven. That’s because Bucky’s no longer my professor.”

“Oh shoot. You got me there!” Steve whined, drawing out the last word in a way a toddler would when expressing their displeasure. “Fine. But you need to promise that when the semester is over, and you’re no longer taking my class, you’ll call me by my name.”

Y/N pretended to ponder the idea, the length of her silence making Steve’s eyes narrow. “Okay,” she conceded in the end.

Steve extended his hand. “Pinky promise?”

“Pinky double promise.”

“Doesn’t this promise come sugar-coated with a wet kiss on the cheek?”

“Oh, damn you!” Y/N lamented, playfully slapping Steve’s arm. Of course, he’d remember the interaction between her and her daughter.

“Language,” Steve pointed out, barely managing to say the word while laughing at her frustrated demeanor.

“Oh, grow up, Rogers. What are you, a man from the forties? College kids say worse!”

Steve groaned, dramatically rubbing his temples. “How much time have you and Bucky been spending together?”

“Enough to know that your very first gig after graduation involved spangles and tights.”

“Goddamnit!” Steve cursed, acutely aware of the wide smirk Y/N now wore proudly. It was coming. He knew it was.

“Language, Steven.” There it was.

“I’m banning Barnes from this office.”

Even though he had used his authoritative voice to state his claim, Steve crumbled when he met Y/N’s amusement. Their laughter blended together, echoing in the room. And even though it was filled to the brim with art and ardor, it was the very first time that Steve felt it come to life.

“Do you think the baby bears are happy when we take them home or sad?”

Y/N cradled her daughter’s tiny hand, delicately squeezing her small fingers. Even though Nyla was only four, her innocent questions and sparkling eyes, never shying away from wonder, always surprised Y/N. Her curiosity, eagerness, and especially her empathy were among the traits Y/N hadn’t realized Nyla would develop so early in her childhood.

“I think they’d be happy,” Y/N answered, swinging their entwined hands as they walked. “Teddy bears—”

“Baby bears,” Nyla asserted. She didn’t like the term "teddy." According to a conversation she’d had with Y/N, “teddy” was not a real word. It was a child’s term. And Nyla was no child.  

“Baby bears,” Y/N acquiesced. “I’m sorry, Ny. It slipped.”

“It’s okay, Mama. What were you saying?”

The surrounding area was getting more crowded, leaving little space to walk. It was the third day of the local fair, and like Y/N and Nyla, many families were attending today. It was a Saturday, so both parents and children were free to explore the site and the activities around them.

Nyla squealed when Y/N secured her in her arms. The older woman playfully booped her nose, trying to make her frown disappear. Another thing Nyla had picked up at an early age was her independent spirit—a trait undoubtedly inherited from her mother.

“I was saying that baby bears are meant to be children’s best friends. They get excited when they see you come close to where they’re sitting on the shelves. And every time you look at them, they make a special wish that they might get to go home with you.”

“But what about their mamas? Won’t they miss them?” Nyla asked. When Y/N didn’t answer immediately, she cupped her mother’s face to emphasize the seriousness of her question. It couldn’t go unanswered.

“Baby bears are…like Franny the kitty. You remember Mrs. Lorise’s cat, yes?”

“Uh-huh.”

“Cats age differently than us. Like Franny, for example. How old do you think she is?”

“Franny is a baby,” Nyla asserted, blinking owlishly at Y/N. She probably wasn’t following where this conversation was going or what it had to do with the baby bears. “She’s like me when I was small!”

Y/N chuckled, holding tightly onto her daughter. One of her hands caressed Nyla's hair, which was styled in two cute little pigtails.

“Franny is six months old. You’re right. She’s a baby to us. But to other cats, Franny is almost ten.”

“Ten!” Nyla gasped, her mouth forming an "o." She looked down at her hands, tracing her fingers with her eyes. “That’s all my fingers! How?”

“Yes, that’s all your fingers, my heart,” Y/N chuckled, “And it’s because cats age differently than we do. Like baby bears.”

“So, baby bears aren’t really babies?” Nyla’s body bent forward, her voice almost a whisper in anticipation of her mother’s response.”They’re grown bears?” 

“Let’s put it this way. Baby bears may be older than you are, but they still need a lot of love and care to become grown-ups. So, their mamas send them on a special mission when they’re old enough, and it’s to find their best human friend and grow alongside them.”

“Me!” Nyla chimed in enthusiastically, placing her hand on her chest as if to validate her statement.

Y/N nodded fervently, maneuvering around the passersby on their path. “Uh-huh. So, are you ready to take a baby bear home?”

“Yes!”

When Nyla began wiggling, Y/N immediately took the hint and set her down on the pebbled ground. Her light green shoes had barely touched the surface when she clasped her mother’s hand and tugged her along. With the crowd’s taller figures and Nyla’s small frame, it was easier for the little girl to weave through the throng and make her way to her desired destination. It was Y/N who had the short end of the stick, holding onto her daughter’s hand for dear life, profusely apologizing to everyone she bumped into on the way.

At some point, Nyla’s zest for making a new baby bear friend and bringing it to the comfort of her home almost made Y/N knock down two young twins. She cursed, hastily apologizing to the families, though she may have needed to apologize again for the profanity that accidentally slipped out.

“Nyla, could you please—”

Y/N’s sentence was cut off abruptly, literally, by Nyla’s sudden halt. The former dug her shoes into the ground, almost toppling over.

“Oh my god, Mama! Look!”

Y/N barely had time to compose herself, inhaling as much oxygen as her lungs could muster. Nyla was pointing at something. At first, Y/N thought it was an attraction or maybe an ice cream truck. But when she followed the invisible trail Nyla’s finger traced, that was when she felt the burn in her lungs, and all the air she had greedily gulped was knocked out of her again.

“Nyla,” she rushed to speak, bending her knees, and taking her daughter in her arms. “Ny, angel. The baby bears are waiting for us. Don’t you—”

“Steve!!” Nyla jumped in her place, completely ignoring her mother. Her hands flailed enthusiastically, an extension that the toddler hoped would catch his attention.

To Y/N’s dismay, even though there was a procession of people congregating at the fair, Steve still picked up on her daughter’s voice. Did he have super hearing or something? Knowing her daughter, even if Steve hadn’t heard, she wouldn’t have hesitated to call out to him again.

Steve whipped his head around, and somehow, as if guided by some unseen force, immediately landed his gaze on Y/N and Nyla. He wasn’t alone; beside him stood a man and a woman, presumably a married couple, judging by the three children gathered around them.

Steve exchanged a few words with the man, his attention never straying far from the girls. Nyla was bouncing impatiently on her toes, her little body brimming with anticipation. After a brief pat on the back between the two men and a quick kiss on the cheek from the woman, Steve stepped forward, his winsome smile dazzling.

“So, it seems I’ve been humbly summoned by her royal cuteness. How may I serve you, Little Princess?” he asked, his tone light and playful.

Nyla’s bouncing ceased the moment he arrived, but her excitement was still evident. “Steve!” she exclaimed, skipping closer to him and stopping by his leg. She paused, almost hesitantly, and glanced up at Y/N. Her mother smiled meekly, though she couldn’t completely hide her reluctance. Encouraged, Nyla turned back to Steve, placing both her hands on his jeans as she looked up at him.

“What are you doing here? Are you picking up a baby bear too?”

To his credit, Steve did his best to mask his confusion, his lips straining as he tried not to twist them into a frown. He quickly glanced at Y/N, silently pleading for help.

“Teddy bear,” she mouthed, careful not to make a sound. Both her hands moved in parallel, tracing the shape of an invisible stuffed toy.

“Baby bear, ah, yes.” It finally clicked for Steve what Nyla was referring to. “My bed is feeling empty, and it could really use some company. Of a baby bear, I mean! Those little ones sure know how to light up a room,” he panicked at the end, the double meaning behind his words sinking in like sharp claws in his skin.

His cheeks burned with embarrassment at his slip-up, Y/N’s amused expression fanning the flames of his embarrassment.

Nyla, bless her innocent heart, was too young to catch the nuance and skipped over the technicalities of his statement. She caught his hand and spun around to face her mother. “Can Steve join us, Mama?”

Y/N’s shoulders tensed, her amusement fading. “Umm.” She hesitated. “I’m sure Professor—”

“Steve,” he corrected instinctively.

Y/N didn’t look at him, but her next words showed she had heard him. “Steve is probably here with someone, Ny. It wouldn’t be very nice of us to pull him away from his friends, would it?”

“Actually, I’m free to tag along,” Steve said, watching Y/N’s reaction closely. “If you don’t mind my company, that is,” he added when he noticed her guarded expression.

“Weren’t you with your friends before Nyla called you over?

“I was,” Steve confirmed, casually slipping one of his hands into his pocket. “Stark and Pepper already left. Clint and Laura followed them just before I walked over.”

Y/N blinked rapidly. “Stark?” she squeaked, her eyes darting around the area, suddenly on high alert.

Sensing his mistake, Steve extended his hand, though he didn’t touch Y/N. The gesture was enough to draw her attention away from scanning the crowd. “Tony left ten minutes ago, Y/N. It’s okay.”

“Professor, you cannot—”

“Steve. Please, Y/N. We’re not at college.”

“Yet, evidently, the college’s owner was around here with his family. Being seen in an academic setting is one thing, but being spotted at a fair with a toddler is grounds for serious allegations!”

Steve raised an eyebrow at Y/N. She was anxiously wringing her fingers together, her gaze flickering between Steve and the bustling fair as if daring Tony to appear out of thin air. Nyla, oblivious to the tension, occasionally tugged on Steve’s hand while watching her mother, eager for the conversation to end so they could go claim her baby bear.

“I wasn’t aware our relationship transcended the boundaries of friendship,” Steve remarked, leaving Y/N momentarily speechless.

“We cannot be friends,” she responded carefully. “Not outside of college.”

“I don’t want to make you uncomfortable, Y/N, and I’ll respect whatever decision you make. But let me assure you that it’s possible to interact outside of the classroom. We’re at a fair, not at a romantic dinner.”

“With a child.”

“Your child.”

“I’m not a child!” Nyla interjected, her little arms crossed over her chest, her expression full of indignation. “Mama,” she turned to Y/N, her eyes pleading, “Can Steve come with us? Please?”

Despite Nyla’s impatient appearance, Y/N was the exact opposite. Her response wasn’t quick; in fact, she didn’t have one at all. Sensing her inner conflict, Steve bent down to Nyla’s level, intending to gently let her know he had no plans to join. But before he could speak, Y/N’s voice rang out around them.

“As long as he doesn’t hog all the baby bears,” she said, her voice clipped and resigned. Nyla’s face lit up, but before she could express her joy, Y/N scooped her up into her arms. The toddler wiggled, her limbs flailing as she attempted to free herself from her mother’s hold. 

Steve followed after them, a smile playing on his lips to appease Nyla’s agitation. “Keep your distance, Rogers,” Y/N added, her voice taking on a more serious, maternal tone. “Or you’ll end up blocking the bears’ view of Nyla.”

The sudden mood shift wasn’t uncommon. Whenever Nyla became the subject of conversation, especially when she was physically present, Y/N’s stance would shift. She’d become rigid and guarded, with her daughter being the only clear indicator of her behavior change.

If he was honest, Steve didn’t know why he had tagged along. He wasn’t even supposed to be here today. Clint and Tony were his close friends, the only ones in his trusted circle who had children. Steve loved kids, and kids loved Steve. Morgan, Tony’s daughter, along with Lila, Nathaniel, and Cooper, Clint’s children, had insisted he join them. Somehow, by some twist of fate, he had become their favorite uncle—a title he always thought would go to Bucky.

Many of his friends had something going on in their lives. Tony and Clint were happily married with children, Bucky and Natasha had been married for a little over three years, and Thor, Loki’s brother and a part-time instructor at Stark University, was on a honeymoon with his new wife, Sif. Even though Sam and Bruce, his friends and colleagues, weren’t making novel advancements in the romantic department, it didn’t mean they weren’t dating or in a steady phase of their relationships.

Steve was the only one at a standstill. He had dedicated so much time to his career that people thought he was romantically unavailable. The truth was, he had never found a woman who piqued his interest—a partner with whom he could share his life and build his dream life.

But Y/N never made him feel empty. She, and her daughter, made him feel like he had a purpose beyond teaching crass adults, painting his melancholy, or merely living up to his “uncle” potential. Maybe that’s why he wanted to join them. A selfish part of him sought to be part of something, too.

“Steve!” Nyla’s voice pulled him out of his brief reverie. The little girl held a mallet that, though small, still looked heavy in her tiny hands. She pointed at the high striker game and then at one of the teddy bears on display. “Can you pretty please help?”

“Why don’t we let your mom try?” Steve suggested, hoping he wasn’t overstepping. He didn’t want to cross any invisible lines.

Nyla glanced at her mother, her lips forming a pout. “She’s not very strong,” the young girl whispered. Steve tried to stifle his laugh with a cough, but it was in vain. Y/N had already heard.

“Not very strong!” Y/N scoffed. Without a word, she extended her hand, palm open and closing expectantly. Nyla handed her the small mallet and shuffled closer to Steve’s side. He glanced down at Y/N, whose eyes challenged him with an inaudible “Watch this.” 

She licked her lips, raising the mallet above her shoulders. Y/N swung down forcefully, sending the metal weight soaring with surprising speed. It rose high, nearly ringing the bell at the top. Y/N held her breath while Nyla blinked idly, clearly uninterested. The metal weight hovered a few inches away from the collision. It stilled suddenly, tantalizingly, before crashing down to the bottom.

“No!” Y/N whined as Nyla muttered a “Told you so” to Steve.

Complaining about the game being rigged, Y/N reluctantly handed Steve the mallet, folding her arms in defiance as he took her place. For a brief moment, Steve was reminded of his childhood fairs and carnivals, the ones he attended with Bucky.

In his younger years, Steve had been skinny and meek. His job was to fail at the games while Bucky’s was to casually swoop in, win, and impress the ladies. As Steve brought the mallet down now, the metal weight hitting the bell was barely audible, overshadowed by Nyla’s enthusiastic cheers and Y/N’s quiet muttering.

Nyla leapt at Steve, gushing over his strength and eagerly pointing out the “baby bear” she wanted to take home. Y/N, on the other hand, responded to his small grin with a mockingly exaggerated grimace. For someone who was usually so cautious about crossing professional boundaries, she was teasing him as if they were two kids squabbling over castles in a sandbox.

It turned into a sort of competition after that. Y/N had kicked “Steve’s pretty behind” at ring toss, celebrating with a joyous cheer and an impromptu dance. Her victory was short-lived, though. She stuck out her tongue and stomped her feet when he beat her at the shooting gallery. The playful back-and-forth continued through six games, with Y/N’s mood swinging between pride and vengeance, while Steve’s smile seemed to be permanently affixed to his face.

By now, Nyla had accumulated six bears, and they were struggling to carry them all. The worst part was that Nyla wasn’t ready to stop. Y/N’s steps grew heavier, her energy waning from the effort. Thankfully, Nyla had one more attraction in mind—one that involved sitting and didn’t include any more stuffed friends.

“Camel race,” Steve pointed out. Y/N and Steve deposited the bears on the ground, the latter with a huff and a hand on her back for dramatic effect. Steve bit down his grin as they watched Nyla step up to the employee, handing over the tickets. The young woman accepted them with a grateful nod and started up three machines.

Steve leaned in toward Y/N, lowering his voice to a whisper. “So, now that Nyla’s involved, should we let her win?”

“Absolutely not!” Y/N looked at him as if he’d grown a second head. Her sudden outburst left him momentarily speechless. He jerked backward, watching her with curiosity. “She’s my daughter. Do you really think she’d appreciate us pretending to lose just to make her win?”

Steve remained silent, observing her as she gathered the small balls and prepared for the game.

“What happened to my sweet and charming student?”

For a moment, Steve feared he’d made a misstep. His mouth clamped shut as soon as the words were out. Think before you speak! he chided himself, puzzled by why those words had slipped out.

Y/N’s rigid expression eased, her eyes shining with a hidden emotion. Steve watched as her fingers made a small, nervous movement and her throat shifted. In a heartbeat, her serious demeanor vanished, replaced by a playful sparkle.

“Oh, Steven. Artists know better than to keep their palettes monochrome,” she shot back as the race began. Steve, momentarily distracted by the tug at his heartstrings from her taunt, missed the bell entirely until he saw her fling a shot.

“You cheat!”

“You snooze, you lose!” Nyla cheered, tossing her own ball into the holes as Steve made his way to the game.

Steve blinked, his mouth agape. “Like mother, like daughter!”

“More talking, more losing,” Y/N mocked.

“Oh, you’re on,” Steve retorted, rolling three balls at once.

The competition escalated as the three raced to outdo each other. Nyla won the first round, with Y/N coming in second and Steve in third. Steve demanded a rematch, which Y/N initially refused, but Nyla eagerly agreed. Y/N lost the second round—karma, Steve teased.

They played round after round, spending their remaining tickets and buying new ones to ride the momentum. Their voices created a chaotic symphony of whines, cheers, and colorful alternatives for more severe expletives. It was messier than a football match or game night at Tony’s penthouse. Even those waiting patiently for their turn couldn’t help but watch the fray unfold.

At some point, Steve began playing dirty too, swatting Y/N’s hands away and bumping her with his hip. She retaliated by tugging at his hair and stepping on his toes. It was almost as if they were squabbling four-year-olds and Nyla their chaperone. They both knew she was winning, and they let her, her excited cheers and overzealous commentary adding to their playful banter.

After countless rounds, the two finally called it a tie, crowning Nyla as the Queen of the Desert. She clutched her stack of stickers happily while Y/N and Steve carried the bears. Pace turning languid, Y/N’s footsteps slowed at the entrance of the fair. Steve picked up on her implicit cue and faced both girls. “Well, this was fun,” he exhaled in one breath. His voice weighed heavier from the strain of their last few matches but carried the same steady air of contentment.

“This was the best day ever!” Nyla chimed happily.

Despite the three bears under her arms, Y/N wrapped Nyla tightly in her embrace. She planted a kiss on the crown of her head, a soft yet deep peck that hid the smile blooming on her lips.

Her lashes fluttered, glistening eyes now staring deeply into Steve’s soul. “Yeah,” she hummed. “It was really fun. Thank you for joining us, Steve. And for winning those rascals that are surprisingly heavy to carry around.”

Steve chuckled heartily, his merriment coming easily with Y/N. “You’re welcome. I think that’s your sign to hit the gym. Old age must be catching up to you.”

“You brute!”

Y/N playfully swatted Steve with a bear. Nyla, not pleased with the bear’s treatment, rushed to defend it. She hugged it tightly and then reached for another bear, taking it from her mother’s hands.

With an apologetic smile, Y/N pulled Nyla into a tight embrace. They shared a meaningful look, and Steve wished he had an easel and a palette to capture and immortalize this moment. Not wanting to intrude any further, Steve took the bears from under his arms and extended them to Y/N.

“Here. I really had fun. Thank you for including me in your little adventure.”

Y/N reached out to take them when Nyla stopped her. “No,” she shook her head. Her little feet carried her to Steve’s side as her eyes met his. “Keep them. So you don’t feel lonely anymore.”

There were no words that came to Steve’s mind, maybe because artists were better at feeling than at talking or thinking. His heart swelled with something innocent and comforting, akin to the warm strokes of a bonfire or the elusive kisses of a butterfly.

He bent down, licking his dry lips. Wordlessly, he coaxed Y/N’s reaction, asking for her permission. An imperceptible nod was enough for him to affectionately pinch Nyla’s cheek. “Thank you, Little Princess. I will cherish your gifts and this day forever.”

Without prior warning, Nyla lunged forward. It all happened swiftly, in the blink of an eye. She wrapped her arms around Steve’s neck and planted a kiss on his cheek. If it hadn’t been for the tingles he felt on his skin, like fading stardust trailing behind a shooting star, he would have never known it happened.

Nyla ran to her mother’s side, taking Y/N’s hand in hers. There was a certain softness in Y/N’s tumultuous irises, the only explicable emotion amidst the raging tides.

“Bye, Steve,” Y/N whispered. “I’ll see you later.”

“Bye,” Steve replied under his breath. Only when their silhouettes faded, blending into the wave of colors of the street around them, did Steve add softly, with a touch of reverence, “I’ll see you later, Twilight.”

Series taglist: @crazyunsexycool @imaginexred

Steve is girl dad coded!! I love it when the story sort of guides itself and walks me through its narrative. I've updated this story's structure several times to fit its potential, and I love the direction we're heading. I wasn't planning on giving our reader a nickname, but Twilight seems fitting. What do you think?

[headcanonsandmore]

Can you do the "all the Doctors" thing, but what would they do if they started a band?

I certainly can!

One: Gets gently pushed into it by Vicki. Can actually play the piano rather well, and starts chuckling to themselves when he starts getting into it. Ian and Barbara got a little sick of the solos after over half an hour, though.

Two: You'd think that a recorder wouldn't be a good instrument to play in a band, but you would be as pleasantly surprised as Two was. Gets on surprisingly well with the hippie crowd, although Jamie has to keep them from getting pulled into smoking illicit substances which may or may not be legal. With time lords, who knows what the effects could be?

Three: Can practically play any instrument given to them because "my dear fellow, it would be vain to explain why". Jo loves it when they play Beatles songs. Has an unfortunate habit of playing in venues that later get attacked or blown up by the Masters scheme of the week.

Four: Pulls the weirdest looking string instument you've ever seen out of their enormous coat, plays some weird jazz-fusion stuff that sounds like a cat making love to a washing machine, grins unnervingly and walks off stage. The stage is a random cafe that hadn't even asked them to play. No-one ever speaks of it again, just in case they come back.

Five: Likes to play ABBA on the rhythym guitar, much to the amusement of their kids young friends. Insists on explaining the themes of each song before starting. Has an unfortunate habit of falling over halfway through their set and knocking themselves unconscious. Given the time period, they often get requests to play "That's Entertainment"; doesn't mind playing it but wishes Tegan and Nyssa would stop sneaking away halfway through to snog in a cupboard somewhere.

Six: Loves playing the drums. Their main inspiration is Keith Moon. Mel says it's good exercise for them. Peri is just glad that they don't wear their coat whilst trashing about with the drumsticks, because that would be a chasm too far.

Seven: Spoons. Ace rolls her eyes but knows that they enjoy it. Is surprisingly popular amongst latter-day beatniks and jazz fans. Often gives some lecture after each song. The difference is that, unlike with Five, people actually listen instead of groaning.

Eight: Just has to sing. You would not be able to stop them. They are surprisngly good at it, although sometimes you wonder whether the words have a hidden meaning.

War: Doesn't play anything, for obvious reasons.

Nine: Bass guitar, and in a very no-nonsence sort of way. Can get down and be funky with it. Rose loves it, and enjoys dancing along, which makes Nine very happy.

Ten: Maraccas, weirdly enough, and often with Donna. Both of them are laughing. The rest of the band doesn't really understand why but it seems to work so who cares?

Eleven: Glockenspiel. No, seriously. Amy and Rory don't know where it came from, and it's actually starting to get a little worrying. Especially when Eleven insists on practicing at 3am with no warning.

Twelve: Lead guitar, obviously. Nothing but shredding solos and awesome punk-style riffs. The fact that they don't have a top-selling album is mindboggling.

Thirteen: Fiddle in a folk-punk-fusion band. Very good at it and is having the time of their life. Loves to dance whilst playing. The happy love songs are their favourite, but has a habit of tripping over their feet on stage if they catch Yaz smiling at them.

Fugitive: Doesn't play anything; again, for obvious reasons.

TenThree/David Doctor/ sorry-mr-tennant-i-cannot-call-you-fourteen: Traded in the maraccas for a trumpet. Donna has a trumpet now too. Things seem to be going well for them.

Fifteen: Sampler. Creates tons of exciting sounds based on all of their previous lives, blending them together in a hopeful, joyeous mix. Well, so far anyway. We'll have to wait and see...

Thanks for the ask!

[holylulusworld]

Soft Spot

Summary: He has a soft spot for you.

Pairing: Mobster!Bucky Barnes x Librarian!Reader

Warnings: fluff, implied smut, mentions of his business

“Doll, you shouldn’t be here. I told you this place is not for you,” Bucky mumbles as you button up his shirt. You’re sitting on his lap, your legs crossed behind his back.

You’re wearing nothing but one of his spare button-ups and a pair of panties as Bucky impatiently ripped your blouse open. He even ruined your skirt.

After work, you decided to visit your man and bring him dinner. Bucky had other plans. Before you could unpack the food you bought on your way to the club, he had you bare in no time to take you apart again.

“You’re my man and I want to share every aspect of your life. It’s a strip club, not hell,” you softly say. You know Bucky means well, but you’re not a child. It didn’t take you long to learn about his business's nature. “I’m not a child.”

“I didn’t mean it that way, baby doll,” he cups your chin with his metal hand. He slides his thumb over your lower lip, humming when you open your mouth to stick your tongue out and lick the tip of his finger. “I want to keep you safe and out of my business.”

“It’s too late for that.”

Bucky sighs deeply at your words. Of course, it’s too late. He dragged you into his world. There is no going back to your old life.

Not a year and a half ago you were a shy librarian, minding your own business. Suddenly, the cocky mobster stepped into your life and stole your heart.

“Do you regret getting involved with me?” he whispers while running his flesh hand over your back.

“No. This would mean regretting falling in love with you. I could never regret loving you, Bucky,” you answer honestly. “If you want me to be your girlfriend, you must accept that I need to know everything about you.”

“Baby doll, my business is-“ he shakes his head. “I’m not a good man, Y/N. I killed people. I got so much blood on my hands that I’ll never be able to wash them clean.”

“You’re a good man. For me…to me,” you wrap your hand around his wrist to bring it to your lips. “This hand is made of metal because you saved someone’s life, Bucky. I know the story.”

“What? How?”

“Steve.”

"That punk," he chuckles. “I knew he couldn't keep a secret. I should kill him.”

“You won’t because you love him like a brother,” you tease and move his metal hand to your throat. “If you are a bad man, kill me. Squeeze my throat and end my life.”

“What? NO! Baby doll, what are you talking about?”

“See,” you guide his hand to your heart, “this belongs to you. It’s yours.”

“I see how people look at me,” Bucky says. “The last time I came to the library they were about to freak out. I think they believed I wanted to kidnap you.”

You gently cup his face and look into his eyes. “I quit today. No one has the right to make you feel less than perfect. You are perfect for me, Bucky. I know you did bad things but I don’t care.”

“You quit? Why?” Bucky asks. He tries to hide his excitement. Bucky hated that you still worked in the library. He saw enemies lurking in the dusty hallways, even though no one was around.

“I heard them talk about you the other day,” you whisper while leaning closer to press your lips to his. “No one talks like that about the man I love.”

“What do you want to do now?”

“I thought about opening my own business, or maybe I’ll let you pay for all the cupcakes I baked for you,” you giggle when he moves his hands to your ass to roughly grope it.

He grins. “Maybe I’ll just offer you a position in my organization.”

“What position, Mr. Barnes?”

“How about my queen?”

>> Part 2

Tags in reblog.

[steddieas-shegoes]

ok so hear me out: i think steve would be a huge fan of oingo boingo. maybe robin introduced him or maybe eddie who knows point is steve is like really obsessed with them, and if anyone (but robin) asks he always just says he likes the music, thinks it’s fun or whatever but in reality? in reality he thinks danny elfman is hot. and like only robin knows and she just keeps having to bite her tongue from mentioning that steve so clearly has a type (weird bizarre punk musicians that give off big nerd vibes) anyway maybe robin finally points it out and steve denies it hard and just keeps saying that they don’t look that much alike and robin can kinda agree in some ways (mostly different hair) but in some ways steve is also just wrong (big eyes, same build, same energy) but either way it did the damage because now steve can’t like stop thinking about it and maybe eddie convinces corroded to cover one of their heavier songs (maybe grey matter or insects) to impress steve (because he’s so gone for that man) and steve kinda just like has no choice but to date eddie

Okay I won't lie, I was today years old when I realized Oingo Boingo was Danny Elfman's band. I was also today years old when I realized that despite knowing OF them, I apparently didn't know any of their songs well enough to do this. So I am just a major disappointment all around today, but I did something! Hopefully this something is good enough to pass the test! - Mickala ❤️

------------------------------------------------------

It wasn’t the first time Robin caught Steve dancing to them. She’d waited for the song to change last time before walking fully into the room, but this time, she couldn’t wait.

“Oingo Boingo, Steve? Really?”

Steve jumped and quickly shut off the boombox playing a tape that he owned.

“Robin! When did you get here?”

She smirked at him being flustered, and was that…embarrassment?

“Oh, relax. I already knew you listened to some of their music,” she said as she stood next to him, reaching down to grab a cookie from the cooling tray he was placing them on. “I may not understand it completely, but I have my suspicions.”

“It’s just fun! Easy to dance to, ya know?” he sounded like he was trying to convince himself of this as much as Robin.

“Uh huh. Definitely nothing to do with how similar a certain dingus looks to Danny Elfman. That can’t be a reason.”

She smirked as Steve flushed bright red and turned away from her to pretend like he was busy.

“It’s not a reason. They don’t even look that similar,” he insisted.

“Suuuuure. These are good, by the way,” she pointed at the cookies with her mouth full of the last bite of the one she’d already stolen.

“Thanks. Mrs. Henderson’s recipe. Dustin wanted some and she’s been busy with work so I thought I’d make them for Hellfire tonight,” he shrugged.

“Always taking care of your kids, huh?”

“Did you come by just to annoy me?”

Robin rolled her eyes, jumping up to sit on the counter and watch Steve put the next batch of cookie dough into the oven.

“No, that was just a bonus.”

“So? Why’re you here?”

“Vickie and I have a date tonight. I need to borrow a sweater,” Robin sighed.

“You have sweaters.”

“But none as nice as yours! C’mon, Steve! I promise I will wash it and bring it back to you by this weekend. It’s not like you’re using it for a date.”

“Ouch,” Steve said, throwing his hand to his chest dramatically. “Fine. But not the yellow one. I am wearing it for Hellfire.”

Robin raised her brows, but didn’t comment, jumping off the counter and kissing his cheek before running upstairs.

—---------------------------------------

“Sorry to be so early!” Eddie yelled into Steve’s house as he opened the front door.

The music was loud, so he realized Steve probably didn’t hear him.

If he didn’t want a nail bat to the head, he needed to be careful and not scare him.

He set his bag down by the couch for now, walking towards the stairs to go to where the music was coming from.

He stood in the doorway of Steve’s room, smiling to himself as he watched Steve dance around his room while he got ready.

He was shirtless, and his belt wasn’t done, his hair was still a little wet from a shower, and Eddie was going to start drooling.

He snapped himself out of it when he realized what Steve was listening to.

“Didn’t really take you for an Oingo Boingo fan, Stevie,” Eddie said just loud enough to be heard over the music.

Steve almost tripped over his own feet, barely catching himself on the corner of the dresser.

“Eddie! You’re early!” Steve tried to look casual, crossing his arms over his bare chest.

“Yeah, sorry. Just wanted to be all set up and make sure you didn’t need help with something,” he said, genuinely apologetic for scaring him.

“Oh,” Steve seemed to relax and walked over to the stereo playing the music, turning it off instead of turning it down. “If you wanna go set up, I’ll be down in a few.”

“You good? I really didn’t mean to scare you,” Eddie said, coming into the room a bit, big eyes looking up at Steve from under his lashes.

“I’m good, yeah,” Steve said, small pink tint dusting his cheeks as he looked down at the sweater on his bed.

“Good. Like that sweater on you, by the way,” Eddie winked before turning and leaving the room.

He pretended to ignore Steve’s groan and the immediate sound of someone falling onto their bed.

—---------------------------------

Hellfire went longer than usual that night, but Steve didn’t really mind.

It’s not like he had any other plans, and he liked having the house full.

That’s why he had the kids over for movie nights once a week, why he invited Robin to stay with him when they had closing shifts together, why he even offered his home as the new meeting place for Hellfire Club in the first place.

Everyone stayed to help clean up a bit, but Eddie was very protective of his things, so they all slowly scattered after bringing trash and empty plates to the kitchen for Steve to handle.

Eventually, Steve walked to the dining room to check on Eddie’s progress, and froze when he saw him looking at the new poster he’d gotten.

“So you’re not just a casual fan then?” Eddie smirked, like he was teasing.

It wasn’t the first time he teased Steve about his music taste, but it was definitely the first time Steve didn’t blame him for it.

“I mean, they’re just different. I like different sometimes,” Steve shrugged.

Eddie put the poster back in the corner where Steve had hidden it among a few other items he’d picked up while shopping earlier that week.

“You do?” he asked, more serious than this conversation probably needed to be.

“Yeah. Robin told me I need more things that make me happy for me, and they’re one of them.”

Eddie nodded, couldn’t help but feel a little proud that Steve was actually listening to advice and actually accepting that he deserved to enjoy things just for him.

“Good. Then enjoy them. I’m not judging, just surprised,” Eddie clarified.

“Okay,” Steve said with a small smile.

“Okay,” Eddie smiled back.

—------------------------------------------

The stage was bright, brighter than usual.

Or maybe Steve just was getting the start of a migraine.

Or maybe Robin was right and Eddie just lit up his world in different ways.

It was hard to say, but it was certainly easy to watch Eddie be a star on stage.

He was always flashy, always bigger than life, but on stage, it was more.

“Hey, you good?” Robin nudged him from her spot in the corner of the booth. She was hiding from the bartender who tried flirting with her for the last two trips to the bar.

“Yep,” he replied with a smile.

“Alright! Next up is a new one for us. It’s a cover of a song by a band that may be a joke to a lot of you, but it’s kind of a favorite of someone really important to me. Hope you don’t mind that I made it metal, Stevie,” Eddie smirked towards the corner where he was sitting.

Steve’s stomach flipped as he heard the intro guitar.

“Wow, Eddie loves you so bad,” Robin teased.

“Shut up, Robin,” Steve said, waving his hand at her, unable to look away from where Eddie was singing his favorite song.

He was mesmerized, and despite the more metal sounds Corroded Coffin performed it with, he loved it.

“That was Grey Matter by Oingo Boingo, performed by your favorite local shitheads, Corroded Coffin. Goodnight!”

The stage lights went off, and the crowd cheered.

It wasn’t a big crowd, it never was, but it grew every week they performed, and tonight was definitely the biggest crowd they’d had yet.

He could see the shadows of the band moving to break down their equipment and instruments, but surprisingly, Eddie’s shadow was missing.

“That sure seemed like an act of love,” Robin teased, kicking his foot under the table.

“He was just being nice. He wants me to keep liking what I like,” Steve tried to sound convincing, but even he could recognize that it was more than just a friendly thing to do.

“I do.”

Steve turned quickly, Eddie’s fond smile looking back at him from much closer than he was expecting.

“Eds!” Steve jumped up and threw his arms around his neck in a tight hug. “Can’t believe you covered my favorite song! It was great.”

“Yeah?” Eddie asked, wrapping his arms around Steve’s waist and relaxing against him. “It was good?”

He could just barely see Robin rolling her eyes in her seat, sipping on some fruity drink that the bartender probably only made her because he wanted to fuck her.

Steve pulled back a little, but kept his arms around Eddie’s neck.

He’d only had one beer, but he suddenly felt drunk off of the smell of Eddie’s cologne and sweat so close to him.

The room blurred away, and Steve realized there was no reason for him to not take a chance.

Eddie covered his favorite song by a band he didn’t even like, made him feel seen and understood with something he hid from everyone except Robin, was leaving his band to clean up without him to come over and see how he did.

“I’m gonna kiss you,” Steve breathed out, ignoring Robin’s groan of ‘finally.’

“Because of the song?” Eddie gulped.

“Because of you.”

Steve had kissed a lot of people in his lifetime, probably more than the average 20 year old, even.

Not a single one of them could compare to the way his lips fit against Eddie’s, to the way Eddie’s hands squeezed his hips before deepening the kiss, to the way his tongue licked along his bottom lip hungrily, testing how much Steve wanted to try to get away with in public.

Hawkins may not be very safe for them, but this bar was. The owner didn’t tolerate any kind of bullying or harassment, and anyone who dared try to fight would be permanently banned.

Steve couldn’t help the little whimper he let out when Eddie’s thigh rubbed just right against the front of his jeans, where he couldn’t hide the fact that he was half-hard.

“Might wanna take this to the bathroom,” Robin told them.

Eddie pulled away, leaving them both breathless, panting in the space between their lips.

“Home?” Steve asked.

“Dingus! You’re my ride!” Robin exclaimed.

“Ride home with Jeff, he’s got my van,” Eddie said without turning around.

“Ride home in your van with people I barely know? Are you insane?” Robin sounded mad, but Steve kind of didn’t care.

“I trust them,” Steve said, still looking at the way Eddie’s eyes were shining in the low light of the bar.

“Great. When I get left on the side of the road for dead, you can tell my parents that you trusted them. That’ll go well.”

“Robbie, I promise you’ll be fine,” he said, pulling away to look at her with an annoyed face. “Please.”

She sighed and stomped her foot.

“Fine. But only because you’ve wanted this so long and if I have to hear one more thing about how Eddie’s curls bounce when he gets excited during Hellfire, I will stab myself with the nearest dull object,” she said before walking away.

“You talk about my curls bouncing?” Eddie teased.

“She’s dramatic. I may have mentioned it in passing one time.”

“Uh huh.” Eddie gave him a quick peck on the lips. “So, wanna explain the Oingo Boingo thing or did I just do something really dramatic over a band that you don’t actually like that much?”

“No, I do love them,” Steve laughed. “Robin said it’s because Danny reminds me of you, which is stupid because he doesn't and I wouldn’t even like a band just because of that when you’re in a band already.”

Eddie’s brows raised as he tried to explain.

“And also, he doesn’t even look like you that much. I guess maybe the eyes a little, and he’s pretty energetic or whatever, and like really talented, but. But that’s it!”

“That’s it?”

“Yes!”

“Oh my god, I love you so much,” Eddie laughed.

Steve froze.

“What?”

Eddie paled when he realized what he said, his eyes wide as his heart started racing in his chest.

“I. I didn’t mean to say that.”

Steve tried not to let the pain show on his face, the hope immediately exiting his body in a rush.

“Oh. Right.”

Steve let his arms drop to his sides, bit his lip to hold back the impending tears.

“No, not like that! Wait. Okay. It’s not because it isn’t true, okay? I do love you. I just didn’t mean to say it like that. Not when we just kissed for the first time,” Eddie tried to explain. “I just don’t wanna scare you off. I’ve never loved anyone before and I don’t know what I’m doing.”

Steve gave his cheek a kiss, smiling as he realized that Eddie may actually have him beat on being a bit clingy.

“I won’t be scared off. I love you,” he whispered against his ear.

“You don’t have to say it just because I did.”

Steve kissed his neck and pulled away to look at him.

“I’m saying it because I do. And maybe I’m hoping you’ll cover more Oingo Boingo songs,” he joked.

“My love for you knows no bounds, my king,” Eddie bowed, kissing the back of his hand. “I shall cover whatever you wish!”

Steve giggled, probably would have been embarrassed about his reaction if Eddie didn’t obviously enjoy it, smiling up at him.

“So you’ll do Careless Whisper next?”

“My love knows one bound,” Eddie grimaced.

[hexalianrebel-blackfeathers]

Task at Hand

Panda’s Notes: Maybe I'm a little late, but I adored the movie, and, more importantly, I might have fallen for a fictional man. Hobie Brown stole my whole heart. >w< Consider this the first of three.

[Ao3] || [Ko-fi] || [Commissions]

“Oi, short man!”

Miles flinched at the sound of that voice. There was no way.

“Uh, Miles?” His mother called, sounding just a bit nervous.

He scrambled out of his bedroom to find his parents staring warily at a smug looking Spider-Punk leaning against their front door.

“Hobie?” He asked with a hint of panic in his voice as he approached him. “What are you doing here?”

Hobie snickered, patting Miles’ shoulder before shoving his hands in his pockets. “Was in the neighborhood, y’know? Thought we could grab grub or somethin’, just cause.”

“Miles…?” His dad stepped closer, resting a slightly firm hand on his shoulder. “Is this guy another friend of yours?”

“Um…” Miles stammered. “Well, yeah, I mean, he’s a friend, just—"

Hobie rolled his eyes with a little grin, standing up straight and offering a hand. “Aye, Hobie Brown, at ya service. Mr. and Mrs. Morales, yeah? Charmed, really. Heard a lot of good things.”

Jefferson accepted the handshake, eyes widening a little at how strong he was for being so thin. Rio was given a handshake as well, though much gentler.

“So, how’d you two meet anyway?” She asked, hands resting casually on her hips.

Miles stood awkwardly in front of Hobie, wringing his hands behind his back as he spoke. “Well, he’s sort of a pen pal, y’know. We mostly talk online; he’s not around much.”

“I’m a friend of Gwenny’s.” Hobie shrugged casually, pulling his guitar up slightly so they could see. “We jam once in a while, but yeah; I ain’t in town very often. Not from ‘round here, but you probably guessed.” He lunged slightly and wrapped his arm across Miles’ chest, resting his chin on his head and sneaking a poke on his ribs. “Little brother here is always on scene with us. Likes to keep us outta trouble, but he ain’t worth much on bass, I tell ya.”

Hobie laughed lightly, and Miles cringed as his mother chuckled. Jefferson still eyed them both, but he was smiling a bit and patted Miles’ arm lightly. The pair watched his parents expectantly, with Miles fidgeting the entire time.

“Alright, alright; go on.” Jefferson finally sighed with a wave of his hand, smirking slightly as he turned away.

“Don’t stay out too late; try to be back for dinner.” Rio insisted, smiling up at Hobie.

Miles finally relaxed, aiming a glare at Hobie before going to his room to grab his backpack.

----------------

“I cannot believe you!” Miles called as he chased Hobie across a few rooftops halfway across town.

“Can’t believe my amazing charisma, you mean, mate?” He called back. “You wouldn’t. You are complete shit at lying. Actual garbage, my guy.”

Miles groaned and rolled his eyes, shifting his bag on his shoulders. “Get back here! Aren’t you the one who wanted to get food? It’s going to get cold!”

Hobie stopped on one building, suddenly whirling around and catching Miles before he could land. He shushed him quietly, smirking as he pulled his mask from his pocket and put it on.

“Over here, bruv, come on.” He leaned over the side of the roof, glancing up and down the street. “I was casing this place earlier when I was headed your way. Spider-sense going somethin’ fierce. Windows are all blacked out; same color, definitely not curtains.”

Miles had pulled his own mask over his head, shrugging his bag off to lean beside him. “Are you telling me the Spider-Punk got me out of the house to work?” He giggled when Hobie elbowed his ribs, crawling up over the edge as the taller man practically shoved him.

“Oi, shut up already. Place skeeved me out, okay? Look for yourself if it seems sketchy. I’m not the one built for stealth, now am I?”

“Okay, okay…” Miles disappeared from view, crawling carefully across the side of the building. Sure enough, the windows did all appear to be completely blacked out. Maybe a mix of duct tape and spray paint? Too thick to see through either way. Great, the one time he feels like he doesn’t have enough powers. He pressed his ear to the window, blinking curiously at the sounds of some kind of machinery. This wasn’t a warehouse or anything; it just looked like a regular, if very old, apartment building.

Miles climbed back up to the roof, finding Hobie fishing French fries out of his backpack. He snickered as he approached him. “Those better not be mine.”

“Bags are the same color, mate; don’t know what ‘tell ya.” He said quickly, licking his fingers and putting the backpack on his shoulder. “What’d you get?”

“Some kind of machine noise? I couldn’t see what it was, but it seemed like a lot of them. Kinda sketchy, I guess. They wouldn’t black out the windows other—”

“Issa sweatshop.” Hobie suddenly spoke through a few more fries, striding quickly across the rooftop. “Betcha a fancy-ass milkshake on it, yeah?”

Miles jogged after him, watching as he stopped beside the building’s transformer. “A sweatshop? You think so?”

“Bet on it, didn’t I?” Hobie prodded around the large box curiously before ramming his elbow into the small service panel. “Look, worst hand: I’m right, crime’s on, and you owe me that milkshake. Plus, we disrupt some exploitative assholes making shitty clothes or whatever. Best hand—” He gripped the edge of the dented panel, ripping it clean off its hinges. “Well, some weirdo junkies won’t have television for a week, maybe. Fry it.”

Miles blinked at the sudden command, looking warily at the cables and lights. “And you think this isn’t going to get me fried?”

“Eh, you’ve done it before, basically.” Hobie shrugged, stepping out of his way. “Didn’t die then.”

Miles rolled his eyes, but he still hesitated a little. Electricity crackled between his fingers as he looked for places to slip them under the cables. He could feel his hands tingling as the electricity jumped between the transformer and his body.

“Nah, nah, nah; you’re holding back again.” Hobie said quickly. “They’ll notice some light flickering; remember what I told you.” He reached over Miles’ head, pressing his own hands over Miles’ to press his palms flat into the transformer.

“Whoa, wai—!” There was a blinding flash and a loud crack, and Miles spun around when he realized Hobie wasn’t pushing him anymore. His knuckles cracked as he flexed his fingers, scrambling over to where Spider-Punk was sprawled on the roof almost ten feet away.

“Hobie?!” He called in a panic, grabbing at his shoulder and shaking him a bit. He felt a few minor shocks jump up his arm, and Hobie coughed as he shifted around. Coughs turned into groans that quickly turned into excited laughter as he pushed himself to sit up.

“Haha! Hell, yeah, my guy; fucking aces!” He cackled, slapping Miles’ chest with the back of his hand and wincing immediately. “Ack, shit, that hurt… Fuck, that was awesome!”

Miles stared at him in disbelief, only able to imagine the look on Hobie’s face. He cringed a little as his Spider-Sense went off, and he realized he could hear boots stomping up a staircase.

“Let’s book, mate, come on!” Hobie was halfway across the roof already, though he almost stumbled on the jump to the next building. Miles stuck close to him as they ran this time.

----------------

“You were worried about this being cold, man?” Hobie chuckled between bites of his sandwich. “You’re too much sometimes, aren’t ya?”

They had returned to Miles’ building, and they’d finally gotten the chance to sit down on a pair of chairs that had been forgotten from the party weeks back.

“Are you sure you’re alright, Hobie?” Miles asked warily, leaning slightly to gently kick his leg. “You were out for a little bit.”

“Nah, I wasn’t.” He said shortly. “Hurt like a bitch, but it didn’t put me out. Trust me, I been hit with worse without the mask on. The healing thing helps out though, gotta admit.”

“Healing thing?”

Hobie snorted, pulling a soda can out of his lunch bag as he looked over at him. “You been a Spider how long, and you never noticed the healing thing, brother? Thinkin’ you just fall off of buildings and live based on goof physics, are ya?”

Miles chuckled and shook his head, rolling his hand as he crossed his legs on the chair. “Yeah, okay; get it all out.”

Hobie chuckled and smirked, shrugging his shoulders as he popped the soda tab with one finger. “Nah, I’m done. What I want to hear about is why you’re still holding yourself back on the electricity thing.”

Miles huffed a laugh, shaking his head. “I can’t just go around electrocuting everyone all the time!”

“Yeah, ‘cuz you’re soft.” Hobie reached to slap lightly at Miles’ shoulder and ruffle his hair with one hand, grinning as he swatted him away. “Though, I guess you would be a bit young to get a body count on you.”

Miles hesitated as he judged the weight of what Hobie was saying. And not saying. He stared at his hand for a moment as he set his straw against his lips, his nerves prickling a little as sparks jumped between his fingers.

“Y’know what? You have a point; I admit it.” He finally sighed.

“I’m always right, man; you’ll catch on eventually.” Hobie snorted when a napkin was thrown at his head.

“My skill isn’t in my power output.” Miles shrugged and flexed his hand. “It’s in my control.” He punctuated the statement by jabbing two fingers into Hobie’s side while he was looking away, the smallest amount of electricity he could manage zipping through them.

Hobie flinched hard, his hand clenching sharply enough to crush the top of the soda can and a choked noise jumping out of his mouth.

Miles paused, a smile spreading across his face as he fidgeted with his fingers.

Hobie glared at him, his eyes betrayed by the smirk on his lips, and he shook the soda off of his hand after setting the can down. “Do that again, and I break your arm.”

“Okay, but I can do it again though?”

“If you want a broken ar—Ack! Miles!” His voice was cracked to pieces by barely stifled giggles.

Miles had pressed another little shock to Hobie’s side, spreading his fingers and starting to wiggle them quickly. “You’re ticklish! Oh, my god; you’re, like, really ticklish.” He slipped around Hobie’s chair, digging scribbling fingers across his stomach and up his sides.

Hobie wrapped his arms tight around his waist, laughing loudly and writhing under each little poke. He nearly flinched out of his chair at another zap, hiding his face in one hand as the other shoved at Miles’ shoulder.

“I really can’t believe you.” Miles giggled, finally letting Hobie push him away and leaning into his outstretched arm. “‘Spider-Punk’ and ‘ticklish’ just don’t really go together, y’know?”

Said Spider-Punk panted quietly, and his hand got a tight grip on Miles’ jacket. “‘S pretty rude to go off stereotyping people, innit, man?” He asked calmly, slowly getting out of his chair and yanking Miles by his coat to follow him. Miles stammered nervously, and Hobie smirked a bit before shooting a bit of web onto the underside of the water silo’s roof and pulling both of them up.

Hobie landed his free hand against the side of the water tank, pressing his boots alongside it to sit in a sideways crouch. Finally, he sneered at Miles, still holding him at arm’s length in open air. “Think this is high enough, little brother?”

“W-Wait, what?” Miles’ face was torn between laughing and panicking. “Hobie, you can’t be serious; I was just messing with you!”

“Nah, you’re right; I’d have to chuck ya off the roof, at least.” He jerked his arm as if he was going to drop him, but his fingers tightened their grip on his coat.

“Hobie!” Miles laughed as he grabbed Hobie’s arm.

“Miles?!”

Both of them froze, eyes shifting to the roof access door where Rio had suddenly appeared. Hobie’s grip loosened, and Miles crawled up Hobie’s arm and shoulder, sort of perching on his back as they both stared at her.

“Ey, boss.” Hobie called casually, saluting politely with two fingers.

“Hi, mami…” Miles called a bit sheepishly, and she rested her palm over her face.

Miles cringed nervously, but not nervously enough to resist sneaking a poke under Hobie’s arm. The soul-withering glare Hobie gave him seemed to make him feel better.

“If you’re out thinkin’ I won’t kill a man in front of his mother, you’re off it.” He growled with a smirk. He took a few steps down, lowering Miles to the roof by his hands before dropping down himself. They approached Rio, one much more nervous than the other, and she just sighed as she looked at them. She smiled, the kind of smile a mother would definitely wear when her kids were doing something adorably stupid, and she reached out to hug Miles close.

Hobie rested his hands in his pockets, chuckling as he stepped back. “Yeah, on that one, I should probably head on.” He sighed dramatically, spinning around and walking toward the other side of the roof. “Got a few little brothers to toss off roofs and all.”

He shot a pair of webs to snatch his guitar and the remains of his food bag from where he’d left them, stepping up onto the edge and poking at his watch. “Nice meeting you, ma’am!” He waved as he jumped down; there was a clatter from the fire escape before silence.

Rio hummed and ruffled Miles’ hair. “You do seem to take to the wild ones, don’t you?”

Miles rolled his eyes a little while she wasn’t looking. “You’re not wrong, I guess. Sorry, if we scared you, I mean. Did you need something?”

“Just wanted to say I’m proud of you.” She was tapping her phone, and when he saw the screen, he couldn’t help grinning. It was a clip from the news; apparently, he owed Hobie a fancy milkshake next time they met.

[gabessquishytum]

Dream is a lingerie model and at this point in his career he's used to men being creepy about it. He's looking to transition out of modeling, but he's not sure into what. He gets a unsolicited note from Hob Gadling, novice, but up and coming designer for a meeting. Dream wouldn't normally say yes to a meeting like this, but Mr. Gadling's note was intriguing.

Just like everyone Hob has a crush on Dream Endless - he is beautiful and makes even the simplest designs better (electricly sexy). Hob's big swing of asking for a meeting with Dream shouldn't have worked, but if that worked Hob is going to push -- what he really wants is to design with Dream. (Hob did his research - read every written about Dream, so he knows that before Dream was discovered, he was a fashion design student).

Dream walked into his meeting with Hob expecting to be shown the designs he would be modeling, not for Hob to somehow have tracked down the old fashion design school work Dream did and pitching a partnership.

Cue working relationship, building trust through respect and awesome fashion. First kiss is on the eve of their first show (after they'd been stress yelling at each other.)

Oh, so sweet!!! Dream finally getting to live his original dreams as a designer when he thought that no one would ever respect him as an artist or businessperson is so!!! Good!!!!

Hob is very much the kind of person who wants to support others. He loves hearing about other people and their interests, and he's definitely got this vibe that encourages people to open up. So Dream feels hopeful, if a little overwhelmed, when he sees how enthusiastic Hob is about his design work. He's willing to sit down with Hob and hash out what kind of thing they want to do together. The biggest secret is that Dream really admires Hob’s work and has been keeping an eye on his career since he saw a few pieces that Hob designed for a punk runway show in London.

They make a chaotic but pretty incredible partnership. Hob has frenetic energy and a huge amount of passion, he loves drawing on the history of fashion for his contemporary work. Meanwhile Dream is very careful, but also has the most mad ideas. Somehow they make it all work, sitting on the floor of Dream’s expansive attic apartment and trying to get everything organised. Dream has to call in a few favours and Hob spends a loooot more money that he would have liked to. But it's ok, and all the tears shed are worth it to see Dream smile with his whole face, eyes shiney, cheeks flushing with happiness.

The night of their first show they definitely get together but they do NOT have sex because they literally fall into bed exhausted at 4am. The cuddling is excellent though. And in the morning, it's pretty amazing to wake up in each other's arms and know that they've created an amazing partner AND they get to kiss about it too.

And maybe Hob nuzzles his way down between Dream’s body and congratulates him on a job very well done.

[nctsplug02]

What if Mrs Jeong has a really bad baby fever and all she wants is her husband to put a baby in her? Then Mr Jeong strictly warned Jen to keep Hannie busy as they would be occupied with an important task but their walls aren’t soundproofed anyway, so Jen could hear them going at it all day. 😂

[3:38PM]

GENRE: fluff and smut

WARNINGS: horny parents that fuck like bunnies, unprotected sex, creampies and yes creampieS, fingering, kissing, praising, degrading, spanking, rough sex, many positions, oral sex (f receiving), squirting, nipple play, pregnancy kink, breeding kink, and a good soft aftercare.

BUHDABING!

jaehyun sighs and picks up his phone, another message from you. a tiktok to be more specific. it was your one-millionth video you had sent him today and all of them were of babies.

baby ma: video attachment.

baby ma: babe :c

he could hear your whiny voice through the screen.

baby ma: look at the babbyyyyyy

baby ma: isn’t she so cute?!!

jaehyun sighs and clicks on the attachment sent. a soft laugh corrupts from his throat when hearing the giggle escape from the little one. jaehyun begins to type after watching the video several times in a roll.

me: yes, she is

me: but no more babies

me: period.

you’re quick to respond which shocks him.

baby ma: but, babeee?? we only have hannie

baby ma: don’t you want another? 🥺

me: you wanna deal with this again?

me: video attachment.

jaehyun looks up with a confused grin when hearing you let out a roar of laughter coming from the next room.

me: do your work, baby and don’t make me tell you again or you’ll regret it.

baby ma: make me regret it then and while you’re at it, make me pregnant too, thanks! :D

jaehyun rolls his eyes your response. “such a horny punk.” he tsks.

not even five minutes later and jaehyun receives another message— from you, of course.

baby ma: video attachment.

baby ma: video attachment.

i replied to baby ma; video attachment— this video is just telling me that if we were to even have another baby, it would act just like you.

baby ma: WHAT

baby ma: I DONT ACT LIKE THAT JEONG

me: sure you don’t. :)

baby ma: SHIT UP

baby ma: SHUT*

baby ma: UP

jaehyun laughs and sets his phone down. “adorable.” he sighs with a head shake.

BUHDABING!

he sighs and picks up his phone. of course, it’s from you, again.

baby ma: video attachment.

baby ma: loooooookkkkkkk

baby ma: aaaaawwwwew

me: whys it looking at me like that?

me: 🤨

baby ma: JAE SHUT UP

as jaehyun goes to click his phone off, you text with another video.

baby ma: video attachment.

me: we can make a cuter baby.

baby ma: BE NICE

baby ma: but can we???

me: i’ll race you to the car ;)

jaehyun sits back with sigh and finally stands up, he does a quick stretch before shutting his laptop, swiping his keys off his desk, and taking is jacket off the coat hanger in the corner of his room.

“liz,” the black headed girl looked up from her computer screen and nodded. “cancel all of my meetings and calls today. i must run home, my wife.. is in a mood at the moment.” she clears her throat as she stifles a giggle.

in a mood, short meaning for baby fever.

“got it— have a good evening and drive safe, mr jeong.” jaehyun says the same and leaves the building. he enters the parking lot and huffs before fishing for his phone that was going off with notifications.

baby ma : babe, you’re taking foreverrrrr

baby ma: it’s been hours, where are youuuu?

jaehyun chuckles and tucks away his phone with a head shake. “so damn needy.” he says and finally makes it to the car.

“hey, sexy.” you purr, pushing yourself off the car. “hey, gorgeous. my needy girl.” he says with a teasing scrunched face. “am not.” you scoff as he opens your car door. “just get in— and, before we get into the baby making process, i need to eat. i’m hungry, again.”

he starts the engine. “why eat food when you can eat me out? boom, problem solved.” jaehyun laughs and you stare in shock. “what?” you question. “i can do that after i have a bucket of fried chicken.”

you sigh and click your seatbelt together. “i guess i could eat, too.”

jaehyun pulls away from your lips when pushing the front door open. “jen!” jaehyun calls out, holding you close to his chest.

“y—yes?!” jen comes running in with a tiny dress on, a tiny sparkly tiara and some fake clip on earrings. “sorry, hannie made me.” the plastic heels clicked on the floor with each step jen took.

you and jaehyun laugh when hearing hannie call for jen to come back because she wasn’t finished with the makeover.

jaehyun presses his lips to your ear and whispers, “i want you upstairs in our bedroom and i want you naked when i get back. nothing but your panties.” he then pats your hip telling you to quickly go— which you do.

“alright, jen,” jaehyun pulls out his wallet and pulls out a few hundred bills. “mrs jeong and i need a few hours to ourselves for.. work. so, if you could possible stay the night and just keep hannie busy— that would be great.” he hisses and decides fuck it. “ah, im sure this is $400– here.” he shoves the bills into jen’s hands which shocks her.

“w—wait— mr jeong, i can’t take this?!” she attempts to hand the bills back but, jaehyun steps back. “you can and you will. just keep her busy until she’s done for the night and when she falls asleep, you can head out or spend the night— whatever is fine.”

jen stutters and counts the bills— $600. clearly, jaehyun couldn’t count or he just didn’t care to. “thanks, jen. you’re doing mrs jeong and i a huge favor.” jaehyun gives a nod and a quick smile before rushing upstairs but, not without taking a quick glance in the living room.

there hannie was, organizing her play makeup and her makeover things. she was humming a tune which sounded like it was from tangled but, jaehyun was unsure.

as soon as jaehyun hits the top of the stairs, he untangles his belt and undoes his jeans. he pushes the door open to see you in bed, sitting on your back with your elbows propping you up.

“so perfect.” he sighs and locks the door shut. your eyes wander down as his pink cock springs free. “ah, ah.” jaehyun shakes his head when you sit up and try to grab his cock. “tonight is all about you. all you.” he grabs ahold of your ankles and drags you down to the end of the bed.

“let’s take a look at this pretty pussy that is begging to be touched.” your panties were damp. you had been having constant baby fever for a whole three weeks.

“yes, jae— please touch me.” you spread your legs wider. he smirks and drags your panties to one side, his pointer finger runs down your slit before slipping into your cunt.

jaehyun looks up when hearing you moan. “how does it feel, gorgeous?” your breathing becomes short and your chest heaves while your hips buck. “cmon,” he slows his hand. “tell me, love. how does it feel?” he repeats. “s—so, fucking good.” your head falls back.

a small smirk quirks on his lips and he continues to thrust his fingers into your cunt. “i can just smell your sweetness.” he whispers, bringing his eyes up to yours and then his mouth down to your clit.

“oh, my—?!” a heavy gasp corrupts your throat as a gush of pleasure hits you. “b—babe!” your fingers fights the urge to yank at his hair. jaehyuns eyes shift to your hands that pleaded to give a slight tug on his black locks.

jaehyun reaches for your hand and drags your hand to his hair. your body hits the mattress making the two of you bounce lightly.

“oh, god,” you cry out, bringing your knees up to your elbows and tugging more roughly at his hair— you swore it could’ve fallen out if you’d tugged harder. “b—babe— it’s too much!” your legs tremble in pleasure.

a chuckle corrupts your clit making you squirm. jaehyuns fingers curl, hitting your sweet spot in the most pleasurable way.

“p—please, baby! please?!” you plead, letting go of his locks and cry out. jaehyun pulls his mouth away and sits up but, his fingers don’t pull away— they keep put, buried in your pussy.

you bring your fingers to your mouth and you attempt to muffle your moans and cries. you clamp your legs shut as your bladder lets go— letting you squirt all over the sheets and his arm.

“there we go, gorgeous,” jaehyun coos. “there we go.” finally, his fingers are pulled away from your pussy, leaving you empty. “what a mess my needy girl has made.” jaehyun frowns and examines the wet sheets.

your sides dip with the mattress as jaehyun climbs above you, his body hovering above yours with this dominant aura that intimated you.

“one down,” he breaths. “and, many more to go.” your body quivers in pleasure. “you ready for my dick, baby?” you nod.

jaehyun spreads your legs apart, again. he softly strokes himself before sliding in without a struggle. “there we go.” he says, again while slowly moving his hips.

your eyes flutter and you wrap your legs around his waist, locking him in. “jae,” he looks down at you. “i want it hard,” jaehyun slowly smiles. “and rough.” he groans with a half chuckle as pushes his chest off yours.

“you’ve got it, baby.” he grunts out and slowly begins to pound his hips. “babe,” you cup his face. “rough and hard.” you repeat.

your head sinks down between the pile of pillows as jaehyun slams his hips against yours. the head of his dick generously kisses your sweet spot.

“how’s that?” you nod, trembling hands reaching for his shoulder but his hand slams against yours. “it feel.. so.. too good.” his fingers tangle with yours as he speaks to you while pounding his hips.

you shake your head, feeling another orgasm arrive. “baby— i’m cumming.” it came out as a whimper “that’s okay. cum on my dick, gorgeous. show me how good i make you feel.”

your hand squeezes his as your orgasm hits hard and slow. it takes you a few minutes to recover from your second orgasm of the evening.

“you okay, baby?” jaehyun hovers above you. “yeah.. yeah..” you breathe slowly. “want some water?” you nod with a tired grin. “i’ll be back— don’t fall asleep on me.” he warns in a gentle tone and climbs off the bed.

you hear a few shuffles before the door opening and closing shut.

jaehyun clears his throat as he makes his way downstairs. it was six and jen was still with hannie— thankfully.

“daddy!” hannie squeals when catching a glance at her dad walking past the living room. “hey, baby!” jaehyun turns when hearing pitter platters on the floor.

“i missed you, daddy!” she jumps and jaehyun catches her. “ooohhh, daddy missed you, too.” he presses a kiss on her cheek and softly laughs.

jen clears her throat and tucks her hand in her jeans. “yeah, she’s been asking about you and mrs jeong all day.” jaehyun frowns and plants another kiss on hannies cheek.

“yeah, where’s mommy, daddy?” jaehyun inhales sharply and clears his throat. “mommy,” he drags out while walking to the kitchen. “she’s asleep right now. she’s very sick so daddy has to bring her some water.”

hannie pouts— she had your big pouty lips. “mommy’s sick?” jaehyun nods and sits hannie on the island counter. “she’s super sick.” jaehyun reaches in the cup cupboard and grabs a nice tall glass.

“can i see mommy?” jaehyun tenses up while filling up the glass. “sure— but, very quickly. mommy and daddy don’t want you to get sick, too.” hannie kicks her feet with a wide grin.

“i miss my mommy.” she says with a sigh and it slowly melts jaehyuns heart.

jaehyun picks hannie up and slips past jen without a word. jen follows quietly and quickly. “mommy,” jaehyun knocks on the door with his hand resting on the handle. “me, hannie, and jen are coming in.” he waits and listens to the soft shuffles before opening into the room.

jen takes a step in before stopping herself— the scent of sex assaults her nose.

“hey, sweet girl.” you mumble to the girl glued on jaehyuns hip. “hi, mommy. i missed you so much.” hannie holds back the urge to hug and kiss you. “aw, mommy missed you, too, baby.”

“mommy is so sick, right?” your jaw wobbles in confusion as your eyes glance from jaehyun to hannie to jaehyun then hannie. “i— y—yes, mommy is so sick.” you fake a cough and hannie covers the lower half of her face.

hannie turns and rests her chin on jaehyuns shoulder. “i don’t wanna get sick, daddy.” jaehyun hides his satisfied grin as he slowly walks out the room. “i know— go with jen, she’ll take you to the store so you can get whatever you want— okay?” hannie gasps and nods.

“bye, mommy! i love you!” she squeals to you with a wave as she climbs into jen’s arms. “uhh, jen,” jaehyun reaches on the dresser and swipes his wallet. “i gave you all i’d pulled out this morning so, use one of the bills and i’ll just give you another one tomorrow.” jen nods and walks downstairs with hannie.

jaehyun makes sure the coast is clear before closing and locking the door. “here’s your water, baby.” he hands the glass to you. “thank you— my throat is really dry so, thank you.” you chug until it’s nearly empty.

“cmon,” jaehyun takes the glass from you and sets it aside. “let’s continue.” you whine and toss yourself back down onto the pile of pillows. “ugh— it hasn’t even been ten minutes!” you groan in frustration. “it has, actually.” he tears off his clothes and yanks the blanket off of your naked body.

“there she is.” jaehyun licks his lips while his eyes devour your naked body. “babe,” you whine feeling the cold breeze hit your body. “don’t hide yourself— let me see how pretty you are.”

jaehyun parts your legs and bites his lip when feeling your wetness immediately coat his fingers. “still so wet, hm.”

your hand reaches down to his wrist and he slips his fingers in and begins to thrust his fingers. the buzzing feeling taking over your clit.

“j—jae,” you gasp, hips stuttering as you hide the urge to clamp your legs shut. “‘s too much.” you breathe out, slowly shutting your legs and turning on your side. “hm? can you repeat yourself?” jaehyun follows you, his fingers moving slower. “it’s too much!” you didn’t expect to yell but, you did.

“oh,” jaehyuns tone of voice drops. “there’s no need to yell.” he finally pulls his fingers out making you let out a sigh of relief. “i—im sorry, it was an a—accident. i wasn’t expecting my tone to be so l—loud—?” you gasp and turn your head when feeling jaehyun slip in his cock.

jaehyun softly scoffs as he slowly moves his hips. “i—i wasn’t ready!” jaehyun pins your hand in front of you and leans forward, lifting him more onto his knees. “that’s okay, let’s take our time.” liar.

the man leaves you a whining mess as he picks up his pace, pounding his hips against yours. his soft skin smacking against yours.

“y—you’re s—such a liar!” you grumble out, gasping and gripping around for something to stable you. your hand falls above you, straight onto the headboard as your head slightly smacks against it from jaehyuns rough thrusts.

it doesn’t take you a while before your third orgasm releases— jaehyuns followed shortly after.

“no, no,” jaehyun flips you on your back and notices your tears. he grabs your jaw and wipes your tears. “don’t cry— you wanted this, gorgeous.” your chin wobbles— he’s right, you did want it.

“it’s just,” you sniffle. “it feels so overwhelming.” jaehyun leans forward and presses a kiss on your forehead. “what does, baby. talk to me.” he continues to press soft kisses on your face and body. “having to cum so much— that was my third orgasm of the night.”

“fourth,” he corrects you— which he’s right about. your first orgasm of the evening was on the way back home. “and you did so so good. i’m so proud of you.”

slowly, the man flips you on your belly. “feel where i’m touching you, baby.” his hand was softly rubbing your belly. “this is where our baby is gonna be in— our baby is gonna grow in here.”

you start feeling yourself cry, again. he’s right once again. you want another baby so bad. so so bad.

“jae,” jaehyun hums, grabbing a pillow and slightly fluffing it before stuffing it under your hips. “please put a baby in there.” your voice was faint and it came out as a whimper. “that’s the agenda, gorgeous.” jaehyun teases your slit with the head of his cock before gently sliding in.

“be gentle, please. no more being rough, slow.” you grab jaehyuns pillow and you hug it. “okay, baby. no more being rough— got it.” he plants a kiss on your shoulder.

jaehyun listened and was gentle the whole time. he praised you with sweet nothings and made sure you felt relaxed and comfortable.

“can you give me another one?” orgasm, he meant. instead of answering, you nod. “good girl.” jaehyun softly praises while rocking his hips.

your grip tightens around the pillow as your orgasm plus jaehyuns crashes onto you like a tsunami. “that’s it, baby.” jaehyun says while still rocking his hip slowly.

finally, after a few minutes of staying put, he pulls out and gives your ass a nice smack. “tired?” you nod, slowly drifting off. it was already past midnight.

“okay, baby. let’s get you cleaned up and then you can sleep, okay?” you give a grunt instead of answering.

jaehyun climbs off the bed and retrieves a washcloth from the bathroom. “it might be cold, im sorry.” jaehyun wipes between your legs making you wince at the sensitivity. “want some more water?” he notices the empty cup. you nod, again.

he takes your cup and refills it. as jaehyun goes back upstairs, he cheeks in on hannie and sees she’s asleep with her favorite sheep stuffie. he softly smiles and goes back to the room.

“baby?” no response. jaehyun sets the cup down on your nightstand and climbs in next to you. “goodnight, i love you.” he presses one last kiss before hugging you tightly and shutting his eyes.

what a night.

A/N: thank you for reading and anon, thank you for requesting! i had fun writing this. my baby fever is going up so high right now it’s seriously so dangerous.