#what if being there just. did weird shit to you

[eufezco]

A PLACE FOR YELENA 𓂃 𓈒 ❀

bucky x pregnant!fem!reader

synopsis — after disappearing for weeks, consumed by her own darkness, yelena shows up in your house unexpectedly and decides to reach out to you and bucky, her best friends, just to find out that you're pregnant and you wanted her in your baby's life.

fluff. angst

marvel masterlist

you wiped your hands on a towel, the sweet scent of the coffee and cocoa still on your fingers. the kitchen smelled amazing, garlic and tomato from the bubbling lasagna in the oven mixing with the tiramisu you'd just finished layering. you'd been home all day, but not alone. the gentle kicks and soft stirring inside you reminded you that your tiny companion was always there with you. a little smile appeared in your lips as your hands moved to your bump.

bucky left early this morning, pressing a kiss to your forehead and another to your belly, promising he'd be back in time for dinner. so you'd spent all day doing this and that around the house, folding the tiny clothes, each one making you pause and imagine the little body that would soon fill it, playing bucky's old records and napping on the couch, a blanket over your legs and a hand resting protectively on your belly.

the timer on the oven beeped and you opened the door. a wave of the heat and the rich cheesy scent hit you all at one. you closed your eyes and hummed. the baby also seemed to loved because a soft kick nudged at your side. you pulled the lasagna out to take it to the living room table, but when you turned around, you froze.

—oh my god!—you exclaimed, eyes wide as your breath caught in your throat. your heart pounded so hard against your chest, —yelena... hi.

she quickly stood up from the chair, her usual confidence slipping as her blue eyes stared onto your belly. you didn't give her enough time to analyze you because once you placed the lasagna right in the center of the table, you wrapped your arms around her in a tight sudden hug. she hesitated before she hugged you back, like you were made of glass. her arms circled around you but she didn't dare to press her body against yours, like the roundness of your belly was sacred.

—you're pregnant, —she said when you broke away from the hug. her voice was soft, almost in disbelief.

you smiled, —yeah, i am. surprise, —the delicious smell of the food filled the space but yelena's eyes never left your bump.

—but like, so pregnant, oh my god.

you giggled, —that's usually how it works, yeah.

—no, seriously, how far along are you? you're glowing. it's weird. you're glowing and soft and... —she swallowed and waved her hands vaguely in front of your bump, —so pregnant, shit.

you let out a laugh. —i'm eight months but i'm still me. just... slower, rounder and slightly more emotional.

—more emotional? so crying over commercials and talking to plants?

—try crying over baby socks and talking to lasagna.

she nodded, pressing her lips together, trying to keep a straight face. you shifted your weight slightly as the pressure in your lower back appeared again. you put one of your hands behind you, trying to relieve the ache but yelena was quick to notice and without a word, she placed the chair she was previously sitting in behind you.

—thanks, —you said with a sigh as you sat. —what are you doing here? did you talk to bucky? he said he's been trying to reach you, —asking how'd she got into your house felt pointless. if yelena wanted in, no locked doors were going to stop her, yet you didn't mind, she wasn't a threat, not to you at least.

yelena shook her head. —haven't talk to your man in months. i was... just in my apartment and decided to drop by. i don't know, —she muttered, shrugging like it could erase the weight of her words. —i thought about you. about both of you. and i guess i just... showed up.

there was a pause. a real one. you knew what being in her apartment meant for her, especially at this time of the night. she was probably alone, thinking of getting drunk, staring at nothing and trying to hold it together until she couldn't anymore. you slowly nodded but didn't say anything about it. —well, it's your lucky day, there's lasagna for the four of us, —you rubbed your belly, —and the tiramisu is in the fridge.

she blinked, —oh, no. i was just... i just came to see you. i don't want to be a bother.

you tilted your head, —you broke into my house, sat at my table, and commented on my belly. you're already bothering me, you might as well stay for dinner.

you managed to get a laugh from her. in that moment, the front door opened and bucky stepped inside. —babe? i'm h... —but he froze mid-sentence when he saw yelena at the table. it was surprise in his face but there was something warmer too, like he'd just walked into something unexpected but not unwelcome. —either this food smells good enough to summon ghosts or i've officially lost track of who has a spare key.

—yelena's here! —you announced as if he hadn't just noticed her.

—and i bet she didn't come in through the door like a normal person.

yelena just pressed her lips into a guilty smile.

bucky approached you after hanging up his jacket and dropping his keys into the bowl by the door. he leaned in, supporting the weight of his body with a hand behind you on the chair and he kissed your lips. you hummed when he leaned in further and kissed your belly over your pajama shirt.

—you know? you should answer my calls or texts sometime, —he said to yelena. —missed you today, baby. this smells amazing, —he said to you as he kissed your lips one more time.

—i've been busy, —yelena said as she bit the inside of her cheeks.

bucky tilted his head slightly and looked at her, narrowing his eyes. he'd been there, done all of it before he met you. the quiet disappearing with empty explanations, not answering to sam's messages, letting voicemails pile up, just ignoring everything that reminded him that he existed outside the limits of his own perception. so yeah, bucky knew yelena was lying.

—right, —he just said. —just don't disappear.

—i didn't disappear. i just needed a minute.

—a minute's fine, —bucky said. he made his way into the kitchen and pulled out another plate, a glass, a fork and a knife. he returned and set them in front of the empty seat beside yelena. —but you vanish and we worry. she worries.

you nodded, assuring her that you did worry about her.

—i didn't mean to worry anyone.

—you don't have to mean it for it to happen.

yelena finally gave a small nod in return to bucky's words. he met her eyes and slowly nodded back. they were never much of words, the two of them. you had taught bucky how to open up overtime, he used to struggle with it but he got better with your help. but his bond with yelena grew from a very different space, his relationship wasn't shaped by long talks or heartfelt confessions. a strange brother-sister dynamic that was built in the shared silences, exchanged glances, sarcastic jokes and the unspoken comfort of just being there.

bucky stepped back into the kitchen.

—but the important thing, —you gently nudged her chair out, inviting her to sit at the table. —is that you are here now with us.

she finally sat down, her hands resting in her lap as she looked around the table. bucky came back from the kitchen, casually placing a bottle beside yelena's plate. it was her favorite spicy sauce, the one brand she always reached for. she stared at the bottle and then she looked up at you, then at bucky. this and your words you just said did something to her. it wasn't just the sauce, it was the fact that you'd thought of her and left space for her. no one had ever waited for her before, not like that.

—okay, let's eat, —you said, grabbing the big serving spoon. you grabbed yelena's plate, guests first, and served her a generous portion of lasagna. then you turned to bucky's plate and yours last.

yelena grabbed the sauce almost immediately, twisting off the cap and pouring it over her food. she hummed as she took another bite, eyes closing for a second. bucky slid his hand across the table and laced his metal fingers through yours, his thumb brushing gently over your knuckles.

—how did that happen? —she pointed at your belly with her fork.

—you wanna know while we're having dinner? —bucky asked as he raised his eyebrows.

you kicked him softly under the table and yelena rolled her eyes, —no, not that. i mean, how? why now? you guys have been solid for years.

you glanced at bucky, who met your eyes with a little knowing smile, the kind that said, we've been through hell but made it out together. —well, it didn't feel terrifying to think about the future anymore.

bucky gave your hand a gentle squeeze, his metal thumb drawing circles over your skin. yelena didn't say anything right away, she just looked at the two of you for a long moment, like she was trying to decide whether to make a joke or actually feel something. —i was not prepared for all this emotions with my lasagna, —she finally said.

—sorry. hormones, —you let out a breathy laugh.

—she cried over baby socks last week, —bucky said looking at yelena.

—they were so tiny, —you added defensively. —and pink.

yelena's eyes widened as she turned to bucky. she leaned back after finishing her food, folding her arms as if she needed to process that. —pink? bucky barnes... a girl dad?

—terrifying, right?

—ugh, don't listen to him. he's gonna be the best dad. he already is, —you said. bucky smiled as he got up from the table and stacked his, yelena's and your plate to take them to the kitchen. —she's got him wrapped around her little finger already.

—that's the most terrifying part, —he made his way back with the tiramisu, carrying it like it was a treasure. he slid another plate in front of each of you.

during the dessert, you told yelena how bucky spent in the baby aisle what felt like an eternity, trying to choose between two tiny overalls, one with strawberries and the other one with ducks, just to end up buying both. you told her how he talked to your belly in a high pitched voice and how he had somehow ended up in a forum for modern girl dads which he checked every morning over coffee.

—you had gone soft, bucky, —yelena teased him.

—she's gonna need a tough aunt, —you said giggling, your voice casual, like the words had just slipped out without weight. but they hit yelena hard. you wanted her there? in your daughter's life? as her... aunt? she swallowed as she finished her tiramisu. it wasn't a title yelena had ever imagined for herself, not in the kind of life she had, not with everything she carried.

but there you were, offering it to her so easily like it was already decided and across the table, there was bucky, the very picture of someone who had dragged himself through the same kind of darkness she still found herself tangled in. his presence alone was a reminder that things could get better.

yelena shifted slightly in her seat. maybe, after all, she could be someone's aunt.

—this was delicious. did she like it? —bucky moved his hand to your belly, rubbing it gently with his thumb. he leaned in, pressing a kiss to your temple. you placed your hand over his.

you placed your hand over his, —i think she did. she's been kicking all night, so i'd say it was a success.

yelena looked at your belly with wide, curious eyes and you noticed the moment her gaze softened, —come here, —you said to her, offering her your hand. she stood up and moved toward you, her steps uncertain. when she reached your side, she knelt beside you. bucky removed his hand to give yelena the space she needed. you placed her hand in the middle of your belly. for a moment, she was even scared to breath in case she hurt you or the baby, but then, a quick shy smile appeared on her lips.

—i can feel her, —her eyes brightened as she looked up at you. you nodded.

she stayed there for a bit, her fingers pressed against your belly, feeling the kicks against the palm of her hand as bucky took care of everything from the table and moved it to the kitchen. when the room quieted, yelena seemed to come back to herself. she hesitated but then she stood up. it was late, you and the baby needed to sleep.

—you staying for the night?

bucky irrupted in her thoughts and you sighed in relief he did. you and him knew that if she went back to her apartment, she'd be swallowed by the darkness that always seemed to follow her. her lips parted but bucky didn't give her the chance to pull away. —if the couch is okay with you... we've changed the guest room to the baby's room, so that's all we've got but it's all yours for the night.

yelena hesitated again, her eyes moving to the door almost like she was ready to leave, but something held her in place. maybe it was the comfort of not being alone, or the warmth that you two, now three of you, radiated to her. her shoulders relaxed, she thought she could let herself breath for one night. she nodded.

—the couch is fine, thank you.

—great! —you said, relieved that you've managed to keep her with you for a little longer and that fell like a small victory. —do you wanna listen to buck read the baby some bedtime stories? she goes crazy with his voice.

yelena looked at her friend with raised eyebrows, so a couple of months apart and now he was the kind of guy to read bedtime stories. bucky closed his eyes and shook his head, clearly realizing what was coming. —oh, i'd love that, yeah, —she finally said, knowing that bucky would die of embarrassment.

[endstar]

The aus relax in the meeting room. Doing their own thing and trying to find ways to entertain themselves… they let the young demon do as he pleases, not minding the free help. They lay about mainly just fiddling with puzzles and, sharpening blades they haven’t had too used for an uncomfortable amount of time …

Eventually, survivors guilt Doug speaks.

𓆟"….so… how we feeling about this?"𓆟

∞"what do you mean? About this weird sudden pocket of okayness?"∞

The fish shakes his head no, his frils quivering slightly with mild nervousness.

𓆟"no… I mean… all of this. Everything. From the sudden appearance of our beloved anxiety demon, to the death of… Hundreds of us. I mean… We haven’t had time to think about how we feel, have we?"𓆟

A malak grumbles.

⚠︎"wow.. a lovely thought coming from you, mr feels."⚠︎

Doug stands up, his tail slashing slightly and he wails in a quiet town.

𓆟”I’m being serious for once! I really hate this! And that… cat… is not the only reason I don’t! And I know I’m not the only one here who feels the same way!"𓆟

The other AUs look down, their expressions grim as they hold their pocketed weapons and small bits of comfortable armour for comfort… they could never seem to take it off now. The fish man paces anxiously.

𓆟"Lucifer left us again! All of them did, because what? Because there’s a shit ton of new gods that they freed? We all know SHE is no coward, and she knows how to get around problems! FUCK, I think she did this intentionally! And now we’re falling into a trap, and there’s NOTHING we can do because we are completely DEFENCELESS in this situation!"𓆟

He pulls on his frills

𓆟"Wh-whats worse now to me is that… we’re even MORE below then now! We’re NOTHING. Just a bunch of burdens…"𓆟

His malak approaches and puts his hand on his shoulder slowly.

𓆟"…don’t say that… we’re not burdens, we’re just…"𓆟 He sighs. 𓆟"…listen… Lucifer could’ve left us at any point in time… he hasn’t. He loves us."𓆟

𓆟"NO HE DOESN’T! HE ONLY LOVES HOW HE FEELS AFTER HE HELPS A PERSON!"𓆟

His Malak flinches back at his Doug’s outburst, his ears pinning.

𓆟"…we’re not his friends. Not anymore… or.. maybe we never were… we are only his stress balls, his way of… both feeling better, and feeding his perceived obligation with his overwhelmingly strong moral code… I know I’m not the only one who sees it. He helps people, he acts like their friend…”𓆟

𓆟"…then he leaves."𓆟

The meeting room is silent, as people try to find an argument to save Lucifer… most unable to find an actual other than Lucifer being traumatized… that he’s stressed. But… only they can get someone so far… and they are all too scared to go talk to the newfound God… he isn’t as friendly as he seems more to them… to cover up this conversation they use their tactic that helped hide their traitors… their thoughts of being allowed and covering up the conversation, only being able to be heard if someone is intentionally listening in.. and with how they’re “protectors” have been doing? They know they won’t.

Even CK can’t defend Lucifer here, well… he can with the whole stressed and traumatized argument, but… survivors guilt has made it clear that he won’t take that for an answer... he respects Lucifer… but he can’t help but admit the poor demons trauma screws them over quite a bit.

𓆟"…I saw that nowhere Doug Lucifer made friends with crying the other day. I don’t know nowhere, but… I have a funny feeling I know why."𓆟

A beirce speaks up.

𓅨"listen… just… give it time… Lucifer is a good person, and he’s gaining new powers and abiliti—"𓅨

𓆟"sure! But is he a good friend? Calling someone your friend doesn’t make them a friend forever!"

The multiverse is full of infinite possibilities...

Most worlds tend to connect through similar builds. Through stories, people, themes...

It's no surprise seeing a stranger to the multiverse. What IS surprising, however, was his condition. Covered in deep wounds, limbs twisted and torn, and he appeared to be drowning in his own blood by the time he was found. Holy weapons were embedded in his skin, and the flesh sizzled liked bacon around it.

He had red skin, gray hooves, horns that looked far too round and circular to have normally grown out of his head. His long pointed tail is covered in hand prints, and there are bones exposed out of his back. He lays face first in a pool of his own boiling blood, barely breathing or moving.

@ask-underfazverse

Cry’s come from the mass amounts of strangers, many just back away to cowedly to do anything, but a few step up, and begin to heal him. Mainly the younger, less evil Malak’s, a few Doug’s that are just simply concerned, and only one Bierce.

Dream Malak very hurriedly takes him to his hospital, with the help of the others.

[rosierin]

she used to love me | suna rintarou

synopsis; suna muses about his feelings towards (y/n), from childhood to current day.

(y/n)'s pov here

a/n; oh to be as positive and vibrant as y/n. also thank you to my lovely bf for proof reading this and helping me write in a guy's voice cause this shit was hard af

this fic is part of the off-season quartet™ series! for more, click here :)

She used to love me.

Never in that dramatic, sappy, rom-com kind of way. Her love wasn’t loud, or complicated. Not really. It was just... there. Quiet, constant—like background noise I never really noticed until it stopped.

I think it started around when we were ten, back in elementary school—when our biggest problems were our times tables and whether we could eat two snacks before dinner without our mums noticing.

I was always a quiet kid.

Still am, honestly.

Didn’t talk much. Didn’t stand out much. Back then, I think people called me the weird kid, which was fine. I didn’t care. I liked it better that way, anyway.

Then there was her.

Bright. Loud. My polar opposite in every way. Always running toward something, while the rest of us followed. She'd probably deny it now, but she was always kind of a leader—even when she didn't notice it. She just had this... energy. One that pulled you in without you realising.

Sounds kind of annoying, actually. But it never was. Not her. Never her.

Looking back, I don’t even remember when we became friends. I don't think many people do. When you're kids stuff like that just sort of happens.

If I had to guess though, I'd say out friendship started the day I bought Pokémon Platinum for my DS. I planned on playing it right after class and shoved it in my backpack, not thinking anyone would notice.

She did.

She pointed it out during our lunch break, started talking my ear off—about how it was her favourite, why the Sinnoh region was the best, which starters were underrated.

I barely said two words. Just nodded. Listened. Most people would’ve taken the hint and gotten bored.

She didn’t.

Guess she decided I was worth the effort, because after that, she just... kept showing up. At school. At my house.

Some weekends, she’d appear in my bedroom, sit down next to me without asking and load up her own game like it was the most normal thing in the world.

I didn’t stop her, though. Never really wanted to.

She wasn't someone I expected to get along with. She was the embodiment of Little Miss Chatterbox—you know, that pink cartoon character with the blonde pigtails?

Yeah. That was (y/n).

Still, my awkward, moody teenage self must’ve seen the appeal, because I never told her to leave. And even now, she still talks my ear off about things I normally couldn’t care less about.

She was just... different. Just her.

Bright. Stubborn. Impossible to shake.

She was like glue. Or chewing gum. Clingy in a way I probably should’ve hated, but never did.

I remember calling her that once—chewing gum. Meant it as an insult.

She just grinned—big, gap-toothed, proud of herself—and asked me what flavour she’d be.

Back then, I didn’t know how to answer. I probably called her a weirdo, brushed her off while she probably scolded me for being mean.

If she asked me again, I’d probably say strawberry.

Summery. Bright. Liked by everyone. A real crowd pleaser. The kind of sweetness that sticks around even after it’s gone.

Yeah.

(Y/n) would be strawberry.

I should've known that Little Miss Strawberry had a crush on me when she would wait for me at the school gates every day.

Even if I was late.

Especially if I was late.

I remember being sick one morning and she waited outside for almost an hour, determined that I'd show up. It was only when one of the teachers spotted her outside and told her I caught the flu that she actually went inside.

She sat next to me during every lesson—got us told off more times than I can count. She was the type to miss it when teachers were shooting death glares at us. The type to laugh harder when we were specifically told not to laugh.

A royal pain in the ass.

But one I'd never dream of trading my seat with.

I remember how she'd always lend me her green highlighter. Said it didn’t suit her "aesthetic" anyway. Said that it matched my eyes.

(Teenage me did not get the hint.)

When we got older, people started calling us a duo. Not in a teasing way—more like we were inevitable. I guess, to everyone else, we looked like a story waiting to happen. Joint at the hip, or whatever they used to say.

As corny as it is, she was almost like gravity.

I didn’t have to reach for her. She was just always... there.

She had this laugh that cracked the corners of her serious little face. Always a little louder than the rest—like she was living everything in brighter colours than the rest of us.

And she smiled at me like I was important, like I mattered more than I ever realized.

Back then, I didn’t know how to name that kind of affection.

Maybe I still don’t.

✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦

I think I started noticing it more around age thirteen, when we hit middle school.

The way she got quieter around me. The way she’d fidget with the hem of her sleeves when we talked. The blush that spread across her face when our hands touched. The way she always remembered the things I didn’t even know I’d said: what food I liked, what game I was waiting for, what songs I listened to—and then showing up with these little gifts.

A new playlist burned onto a CD.

A keychain of a character I said I liked once.

A melon pan that she'd shyly hand me after practice. God, she was so terrible at playing it cool.

"Here," she'd said, "was passing by the bakery anyway."

I didn't find it particularly funny at the time. But I think if she ever tried lying like that to me again, I'd laugh straight in her face.

There was no bakery anywhere near her walk home. She must’ve known I’d figure that out.

Thirteen-year-old me didn't call her out for it. Just accepted it all with a nod, or a smirk if I was feeling particularly self-aware that day.

But the real kicker?

She stopped calling me by my dumb nicknames.

No more RinRin.

No more Rinnie.

Just Rintarou, or Rin on days she was feeling bolder. Careful. Formal. Like she was scared of being too much.

I didn't think much of it at first.

But eventually, it clicked.

She liked me.

And I didn’t know what the hell to do with that.

I wasn’t into her like that. Not then.

She was still just... her. (Y/n). Little Miss Chatterbox. Little Miss Strawberry and still the royal pain-but-not in my ass.

Still the girl who beat me at Mario Kart by sabotaging my controller and laughed like it was the funniest prank in the world.

I didn’t want to lose that.

Didn’t want to lose her.

So I ignored it.

Pretended I didn’t notice when she started dressing different—fixing her hair in ways she never used to, wearing little accessories that didn’t feel like her.

I even caught the faint smell of perfume once when she sat down beside me, way stronger than anything she ever wore before.

It was the same scent I once said I liked. On some other girl.

I wasn’t stupid. I've always been pretty self-aware. I put it together.

And yeah—in a shitty, selfish, teenage boy way... sometimes I liked it. Liked knowing she thought I was worth trying for. Liked the way her eyes lingered when she thought I wouldn’t catch it. Liked the way she tried a little harder around me.

But I never said anything. Never did anything. Never entertained it, past maybe a small smile I didn’t bother hiding.

But she never confessed—never made it weird. She just kept loving me quietly like she'd been doing since we were nine, without ever asking for anything back.

I figured it’d fade. Eventually.

And I guess... it did.

But sometimes—sometimes I think about how carefully she used to look at me. And how careless I was with it.

✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦

Her feelings began fading after that. Not all at once. Not dramatically. It happened in shifts—like seasons changing when you’re too distracted to notice.

It started when we started high school. We must've been fifteen, then.

She told me once, back in middle school, that she’d follow me wherever I went. And to be honest, I thought she was joking.

(She wasn’t.)

So when I got scouted to play for Inarizaki, she just shrugged and said, "cool. I'll go there too," like it was the most obvious thing in the world. And she did.

I joined the team in our first year.

I’d always been good at volleyball—not to brag, but it came easy. Movement. Instinct. Precision. All things I was good at and enjoyed.

She came to a few practices at first, hanging out on the bleachers, cheering like nobody else was watching. I guess some people might have found it embarrassing—but me? Nah. Actually, it was… kinda nice. Familiar.

It was a brand new school, away from home, away from everything we knew. We had to stay in dorms, surrounded by people with funny accents and different hobbies—so having (y/n) was a comfort I most definitely took for granted.

After practice, she’d wait for me by the gates. We’d walk to our dorms together, eat lunch together like always.

She was still my person—still the one who refilled my water bottle without me asking, still the one who yelled at me when I forgot to do my homework.

Thing is, we weren’t the only ones anymore. There were teammates now. Locker rooms. New people. New jokes.

But she was still right there. Still mine—in a way I didn’t have a name for yet.

It was her idea that I introduce her to the team. I figured why not. I spent most of my time there, anyway. The team was pretty chill.

Well... most of them.

That's when the Miya twins entered the picture.

Or rather, tore the pen from our hands and wrote themselves into our story.

Loud. Ridiculous. Annoyingly talented. That's how I'd have described them back then. (Well, actually... They haven't changed much.)

She wasn’t keen on Atsumu at first—can’t blame her. Said he talked too much. Said he moved like he knew people were watching. Not that she was wrong.

Osamu was more tolerable—calmer, more polite. She liked him better.

Sometimes, I'd catch her laughing at something he said and—well, it made sense. Osamu and I were pretty similar—same energy, same dry humour, same vacant expression.

Hypothetically, if she were gonna have a crush on anyone, Osamu seemed like the obvious choice.

Not that it bothered me.

(Not really.)

(Not enough to think about it for more than a second.)

Why would I?

She still sat beside me at lunch. Still poked my side when I zoned out. Still smiled that smile that made everything else a little quieter.

We were still a duo. Still unshakable.

Sure, there was the twins.

But me? I was still her anchor, and things were still good.

✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦

By the time we were sixteen, somewhere in the middle of high school, things had officially changed.

She just... stopped waiting for me after class.

At first, I didn’t think much of it. Figured she was just busy—making new friends, expanding her orbit a little.

It was good, I told myself. Healthy, even.

She wasn’t supposed to stay glued to me forever.

Still—it threw me off. More than I wanted to admit.

I’d catch her across the courtyard sometimes, sitting with Osamu, bickering with Atsumu, then laughing harder than I'd heard in a while. Not the quiet laugh she used to save just for me. Louder. Freer. A little wilder.

At first, I was glad since I thought it meant we could just be normal again. No tension. No careful glances. No aching silences.

But then something started to ache anyway. And I didn’t understand why.

The twins pulled her in like a tide. They were loud, chaotic, overwhelming—but she still held her own.

She never let Atsumu win an argument. Never. She matched his volume, his fire, his rhythm like she was built for it.

And I watched—quietly, stubbornly—as something bloomed between them. Something she and I never had.

And the thing is… she didn’t fall for him right away.

She actually hated him at first. It took her months to actually warm up to him. She told me she thought he was a self-absorbed loudmouth. Which, yeah. He was. Still is.

And it was funny, honestly—watching them argue like an old married couple.

I’d smirk behind my water bottle, listen to her roast him without missing a beat, listen to Atsumu get all red-faced and defensive.

She always won. Always.

And it was good—good to see her like that. Confident. Sharp. Untouchable.

Except... sometimes, I'd catch the way her smile lingered when he said something stupid. The way her face lit up when she teased him.

At first, I brushed it off, because there was no way, right? Atsumu and (y/n)?

Yeah. Nah.

(Y/n) liked quiet guys. Chill guys. Guys who didn’t need to be the centre of attention.

Guys like—

...

Well. Never mind.

If she was gonna fall for anyone, it would’ve been Osamu. That made sense. That was safe.

But Atsumu?

No.

'Least that's what I thought.

But something changed. I don’t know when. I don’t even think she noticed.

But I did.

✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦

There was a time I was the one she looked for first in a room. Didn’t matter where we were—class, a crowded gym. Her eyes would always find mine first, like it was automatic.

By the time we were seventeen, I think I’d already lost that.

And then came graduation. We were eighteen when the four of us moved in together—me, the twins, and her. A decision that felt inevitable, like we were just continuing the story we started as kids.

New city. New school. New everything.

But her? She was still familiar. Still safe.

And then came that winter.

New Year’s Eve.

We'd gone back home for the holidays. My house was empty, the twins back home in Hyogo. (Y/n) was around, like she always was back then. And it just... happened.

I kissed her. It wasn’t soft. It wasn’t sweet.

It was messy, selfish—hungry in a way I hate admitting now.

I’d like to say it was love that made me do it. That I knew what I was feeling. But honestly? It was lust.

It was late. It was quiet. She was sitting on my bed, wearing my old hoodie, looking at me with those eyes she probably didn’t even realize were still full of hope.

And maybe it finally hit me how much she’d grown into herself. Not that she wasn’t always pretty—she was.

But now? Sitting there, close enough to touch, close enough to ruin—

Yeah. I wanted her.

Not in the right way. Not in the way she probably used to hope for.

I just... wanted her.

And because I was a dumb, horny teenager with the emotional range of a teaspoon, I gave in. I leaned in. I kissed her.

And the worst part?

She kissed me back.

Like she’d been waiting for it.

Like we were still kids and this was the ending everyone saw coming.

I let it get heated—too heated. Hands, breath, weight shifting—

I was ready to take it further.

I didn’t even stop to think if I should.

But she did. Thank God she did.

She pulled back. Said she couldn't go through with it. And I knew—I knew—it was because she had more sense than I did. That she wasn't looking for a casual hook-up.

And I was stupid to think for even a second that I was okay with that.

She didn’t look at me for the rest of the night—not because we were cuddling, but because she probably felt as conflicted as I did.

And that's how I knew I'd fucked up. Whatever she’d felt for me—the crush, the hope, the stupid, innocent dream of us—

I think that was the moment it died.

And I didn’t try to fix it.

Didn’t say sorry.

I just... pretended it never happened. Acted like it didn’t mean anything.

And she let me.

She kissed me like she’d always wanted to.

Then stopped like she’d never feel that way again.

And after that… she got closer to Atsumu.

And I pretended not to notice.

✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦

I think that’s when I started to fall for her. Like, really fall.

Not for the version of her that used to sit beside me with strawberry pocky in her backpack and stars in her eyes. Not the kid who used to wait for me at the gates. But for the woman she was becoming—sharper, warmer, fiercer. Still soft in all the best ways. Still kind. Still sweet. Still hers.

But no longer mine.

And sometimes—more often than I’d like to admit—I still think about that kiss.

It’s stupid, probably. It’s been years. And we never talked about it. Not once. But the memory’s still there. Lodged under my ribs like a splinter I never pulled out.

I don’t regret it. Not even for a second.

Looking back, it was stupid timing. And probably selfish of me to make a move on her the way I did. But for one second, I knew what it felt like to have her want me. And I’d take that over pretending it never happened.

Sometimes, I wonder what would've happened if she hadn't pulled away. If I’d kissed her like I meant it—for more than just a moment. If I’d been a little braver. A little less stupid. If I’d grown up a little faster.

Maybe she would've stayed. Maybe she would've looked at me the way she used to.

But I didn’t. And neither did she. And now we just pretend it never happened.

I don’t bring it up. I don’t want to make things weird. Don’t want her to feel uncomfortable.

She’s moved on. I know she has. She’s got her heart set on someone else now.

She probably doesn’t even think about that night anymore.

…But I do.

✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦

We were nineteen when I first realized I was in love with her. Maybe I always was, in some far-off version of the timeline where I didn’t take her for granted.

Now we're almost about to graduate college and nothing’s changed.

She and Atsumu aren’t together, not officially. But they move like magnets now. They have their own inside jokes—the kind I’m not a part of. They cook together. Tease each other. Argue like it’s foreplay.

He’s softer around her. She’s brighter around him.

And it's not like I hate it. I like seeing her happy—I do. I just… miss being the one who got that version of her—miss being the one she used to look at like that.

And maybe that’s the part that’s hardest to explain. Because it's not just watching her fall for someone else. It’s watching her fall for someone I know.

Atsumu's one of my closest friends. And it’s not weird, exactly. Just… conflicting. Hard to explain.

It’s strange to see the way he looks at her when he thinks no one’s watching. Stranger still to think it’s the same way she used to look at me.

And I don’t think he even realizes it half the time. Or maybe he does and he just doesn’t know what to do with it. Because I know how Atsumu thinks. I know what scares him.

He’s terrified of commitment. Of getting it wrong. Of ruining something that matters. His pride gets in the way. I bet his career does, too.

He’s all or nothing, and he doesn’t know how to be subtle about it.

And maybe I’m not mad at him for that. But I’d be lying if I said I didn’t wish he’d just get his shit together.

Say the damn words. Stop dancing around it. Stop wasting time she won’t ask him to hurry.

Because she won’t.

(Y/n) is soft. That’s just who she is. Too soft if you ask me. Too soft in a way that means she'll never ask for more. Never protect herself from hurt until it's too late.

She feels things deeply. Hopelessly. Quietly.

And I know that—because I experienced it first-hand.

I know how careful she can be with her love. How she shows it in the small things, like a green highlighter or a slice of melon pan. She doesn’t ask to be seen—not outright.

So yeah. Watching someone like her love someone like him?

It scares me a little. Because I know what it’s like to hold her feelings and not know what to do with them.

And I know what it’s like to lose them.

✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦

She sits across the living room now, reading her little romance novel while Atsumu rants about something stupid from the kitchen. Osamu’s half-asleep on the couch. I’m pretending to scroll on my phone.

But I’m not really paying attention—hard to when she's sitting right there.

She glances up—sensing it, like she always does. Catches me in the act.

Smiles.

And it still hits me in the gut. Every. Single. Time.

Because I remember a time when that smile was mine first. When I was the one she waited for after class. When I was the one who knew all her little routines and inside jokes and favourite types of endings in books.

She used to love me.

And I let it pass me by.

Now I love her.

Quietly. Constantly.

And I don’t know if she’ll ever look back.

But if she ever does…

This time, I’ll be ready.

[catherinnn]

Why pick one?

Steddie x fem!reader

summary: What happens when Eddie and Steve check out the same girl at a party? But then again... why would she pick just one?

warnings: SMUT (+18), p i v, threesome, fingering, hand-job, oral (f & m recieving), spanking, afab reader who is mentioned to be shorter than the boys.

words: 4.9k

masterlist

You were leaning against a wall outside in the garden of the house party. Accompanying your friends as they smoked. You weren’t complaining though, the summers in Hawkings were a challenge, but these cold breezes in the night made it all worth it.

You’d be having a nice night out with your friends if it wasn’t for the two boys leaning a few feet away staring at every movement you made.

They looked like opposites, and yet side by side they looked like trouble waiting to happen.

Eddie had noticed you first, eyes wandering on the characters in the garden until his eyes landed on you. He elbowed Steve, nodded in the direction of your friend group. In his mind was the idea that they’d both pick a different girl.

Little did they know they were both staring at you. You smirked, and slowly made your way over.

“Look at you two. Are you the entertainment tonight or just decoration?” You said, pulling out the honey-laced voice.

Steve laughs, amused. “Depends. Are you hiring?”

“Or auditioning?” Eddie jokes.

An hour passed in jokes and giggles. As if they were in a competition on who could make you laugh the most.

“Are you always this cocky?” you ask Steve with a smirk.

“Only when I’m around pretty girls” he tried a charming smile.

“Careful, Steve, you don’t wanna be too obvious” Eddie rolls his eyes, biting a laugh.

As the outdoor couch is finally free again, you move over there.

“For the lady, who’s as tall as a mouse” Eddie offers the couch cushion like he was presenting a throne, grinning.

“Oh, hilarious, no one’s ever made that joke before” you roll your eyes as you plop down.

“Are we not being original enough for you?” Steve snorted, flopping down beside you.

“Are these jesters too boring for you, princess?” Eddie jokes.

“Shut up” you roll your eyes, smirking.

“She’s such a princess. That’s your name now” Steve agrees after seeing it annoyed you.

“You just got knighted” Eddie comments

A group of younger girls across the garden giggled, eyes glued to Steve. You lean in and whispered just loud enough.

"Your fan club is assembling"

"Oh my God, look at his hair!" Eddie says mockingly.

"Just ignore them" Steve groans.

"Oh, poor you! So handsome is a curse!" you joke.

"Tragic. Someone get this man a cap and a pair of sunglasses!" Eddie joins in.

The giggling girls dare each other to go talk to Steve, shoving each other and giggling some more.

"They're planning their attack" you comment.

"I swear to god, if one of them calls me again, I'll jump in the pool" he complains.

"Relax, if they swarm, I'll protect you" you say.

"With what? Your fierce energy?" Eddie chuckles.

"She'll bite ankles" Steve laughs.

The younger girls keep getting closer, trying to act subtle.

"Okay, no, this is getting weird. They're like sixteen! One of them called me sir earlier!" Steve says.

"Aww, does sir Steve need a bodyguard?" you laugh.

"He needs help" he looks at you, pleading.

And you don't hesitate, you move onto his lap like it wasn't a big deal. One arm around his shoulders, the other hand playing with his hair.

The effect was immediate. The girls paused, their smiles turning into frowns, as they went back inside, bummed out.

"Holy shit, you're a genius" he says.

"I know, you're welcome"

Eddie rolls his eyes as if he was annoyed.

“Hey, you know who’s acting real smug?” Steve whispers in your ear as he nods towards Eddie. “Try to make him blush, only you would”

“Pff, good luck with that” Eddie steps in.

“Big talk for a guy who tripped over a cat earlier” you smirk.

“That cat came out of nowhere! And I don’t blush, sweetheart” He defends.

“So I can’t get to you?” you scoot closer.

“I’d like to see you try” he smirks.

“You have a lot of rings” you almost whisper since you got so close to him, as you trace your fingers on his rings.

“You like them?” he grins.

“I do, they really complete your look” you smile.

“I also can do this:” he says and takes one chunky ring off, to start rolling it finger through finger.

You see his trick but also get distracted by the cute face he makes as he’s concentrating, the tip of his tongue out of his mouth.

“You’re really cute when you concentrate like that” you giggle and distract him.

He fumbles a little to put his ring back on, and bites his lip to hide his grin.

“You okay over there, Munson?” Steve laughs. “Is that a little pink I see on your cheeks?”

“I’m fine, dumbass” he says.

“You can’t even say your own name!” Steve laughs.

“I did not forget my name! You two are evil”

You giggle as you plant a peck on his cheek.

From the way the two friends were handling the situation, you'd think they had done this before. But the truth is they had no idea what they were doing. Without noticing, they were both going for the same girl, and fortunately –or unfortunately, they were yet to see–, she seemed to like them both back.

“Maybe, but I’m not the one blushing over a five-foot minion” Steve comments and you shove him playfully.

But they were not overthinking this yet, they both let it happen. Watching you flirt with one and then the other.

You did notice they were very good friends, in the trust and confidence they had around each other.

But neither of the three of you tortured yourselves trying to figure this out. None of you knew what the hell was going to end up happening tonight, but you didn't trouble yourselves too much with it.

“I have a serious question” you start.

“Uh oh” Eddie muttered.

“Have you two ever kissed?” you ask, and that shut them up pretty fast.

Steve chokes on his drink. “What?”

Eddie laughs, nervously maybe. “Jumping straight into that one”

You shrug innocently. “You're very close. I mean, you bicker like an old couple and you seem to have known each other for a long time. It's a fair question”

“Sure, but… no. I don't think so?” Steve ponders.

“Once, kind of. Just a peck in a truth-or-dare dumb thing a few years ago” Eddie explains.

“That wasn't that long ago, it was the last halloween” Steve remembers now.

“Whatever” Eddie says, blushing a little again.

“You're both blushing. God, you're adorable” you laugh.

Steve throws a cushion at you but you catch it.

“I just think it's funny,” you lay back. “you act all cool and cocky but I say one thing and it’s middle-school in here all over again”

“Hey, I'm totally cool with kissing dudes” Eddie defends.

“Oh yeah? So kiss me” Steve calls his bluff.

“Maybe I will, big boy” Eddie doesn't give in.

“You're so flustered” you giggle.

“I hate her” the metalhead groans.

“No, you don't” you smile. “Come on, you both have wondered, I'm sure”

“I never-” Steve scoffed.

“Please, that dare doesn't count. I want a real kiss” you say.

“You want a performance, princess?” Eddie teases.

“You're the one in a band. I thought you liked putting on a show” you say back.

“Are you daring us right now?” Steve asks.

“Do you want me to dare you?” you smirk.

They glance at each other. Steve raised an eyebrow, his lips twitching like are you thinking what I'm thinking?

And they were.

Without a word, Steve leans in first. Eddie smirks as he leans in too.

And then suddenly, they were kissing.

It started almost like a joke, just to mess with her. But as they grab each other's faces to shift closer, Steve tilts his head slightly, Eddie's hand on his jaw. The kiss becomes more real.

Meanwhile, you blink, almost in awe. You had front-row tickets to the cutest boys kissing passionately. And that shut you up pretty quickly.

When they finally pulled back, stunned at themselves, they noticed her staring.

“What the hell was that?” you're the first one to speak.

“That was you losing, princess” Eddie says.

“I think we broke her” Steve chuckles as he touches your cheek to see if you still breathed.

“I don't know who I'm more jealous of” you admit.

“Want us to help you decide?” Eddie teases her and you're the one blushing now. “Oh, you're really quiet now” he says, smug as hell, stretching one arm around your shoulders.

“That was fine, I've seen better” you try to act indifferent.

“Sure, that’s why you weren’t even blinking” Steve chuckles.

“I was blinking!”

“You weren’t even breathing” Eddie chimes in.

“You two are so cocky” you roll your eyes.

“And you’re so jealous” Steve smirks.

“I was kidding” you lie.

“So you don’t want a kiss too?”

“I-... maybe” you don’t break eye contact with him, not wanting to lose you upper hand, not wanting to seem desperate.

Steve was still watching you with that same amused glint. His hand reached to tuck a strand of hair behind your ear.

“You really are pretty, you know?” he lets out.

You blink, thinking of a teasing comeback but it just gets stuck on your throat. As he leans in, slowly, his eyes now on your lips, just before he kissed you.

Careful. Gentle. Like a movie kiss. The princess movies you used to watch as a kid.

His hand cupping your cheek as if you were to disappear if he wasn’t careful.

When he pulled back, you felt breathless. In another dimension.

Eddie was watching too, surprisingly quiet.

“Told you,” Steve murmurs, as if he was only talking to Eddie. “She’s the prettiest thing in this house”

It was so clear what he was trying to achieve in you. And you almost hated that he did it so easily.

“You do look like a dream” Eddie whispers in your ear while you were still reeling from that kiss.

You turn to Eddie now. You both smirk. His eyes darker.

“You okay, princess? Still breathing?” his voice low, only for you. You can only nod. “Yeah? He does the prince thing real well. With a hair like that? He grew up thinking he was in a Disney movie”

“Jealous much, Munson?” he responds. but Eddie didn’t answer back. His focus all on you.

He tilts his head slightly, and shows that grin again, leaning slowly.

“But did you ever kiss the guy your daddy would warn you about?”

You giggle at that, shaking your head.

“Wanna try?” he chuckles too. But before you could answer, he’s kissing you.

This one wasn't as careful. It was more confident, like he knew you wanted it before you did. His hand slid behind your neck, pulling you in.

When he pulled away, just barely, lips still brushing. He whispered: “Still breathing?”

“Shut up” you laugh.

The second you sit up again, they’re already bickering.

“I mean, obviously mine was better” Steve grins proudly.

“Please, your kiss was vanilla, sweet, sure. But I made her knees week” Eddie answers.

“You were too harsh”

“She liked it”

“I was literally right here, man. Her eyes fluttered after mine!”

“Oh yeah? Well, she grabbed me like-”

“Are you guys serious right now?” you step in.

“Deadly. I wanna know now”

“You’re so annoying” you complain, still smirking.

“But who was more charming?”

“Yeah? Well, who was more handsome?”

You look between them, as if weighing the options. Then leaned back and shrugged. “Honestly? I’m into both of you”

That made them pause.

“Why just pick one?” you ask innocently. “I could definitely enjoy both of you”

“Holy shit” Steve muttered.

“That’s not fair” Eddie shakes his head, eyes closed.

“You’ve been teasing all night. I deserved this” you smile.

“You’re evil” he says.

“Yeah? I am?” you imitate his pout.

“Yes, you are” he says and grabs your jaw to kiss you again.

As you and Eddie get lost between giggles and more kisses, you open your eyes to see where’s Steve.

You see his eyes going back and forth on the people that are still at the party, which is not as packed as it was a few hours ago, but there's still a few groups hanging out in here.

“Hey,” you call his attention. “everything alright?”

“Yeah, I'm trying to see how long it'll take all these people to leave… or if I can kick them out”

“You want me to kick some butt, Harrington?” Eddie sits back up, almost looking forward to it.

“No, dumbass. It'll be easier to let them leave on their own. It's getting late either way” he says.

“Should we leave too?” you ask and they both turn to you with a frown and a big smirk.

“No, you're not going anywhere” Steve says and gets up, grabbing your hand.

You quickly follow behind, checking to see if Eddie is too. The latter wraps an arm around your waist so he won't lose you.

Steve makes his way upstairs. Slipping through the hallway like kids sneaking past bedtime.

Once he gets to the door of his room, he opens it and lets you in first. “Ma'am”

You giggle and step inside, looking around all the trophies and pictures with friends, smiling at the various ones he had with Eddie, noticing how cute they both look in each of them.

The door clicking shut behind them.

It was quieter here, making you more conscious on the way your heart was beating faster. You sit on the edge of the bed.

Steve stands in front of you, close enough to touch. “Still into both of us?”

You look up at him, then at Eddie, who was leaning against the desk, arms crossed, watching you two with a grin.

You grin as well, “Very much so”

Steve's fingers start brushing up your legs, very slowly. “Very good, sweetheart”

Eddie comes to sit next to you, his thigh pressed to yours, making you feel warmer.

Steve brushes a hair away from your face, like he was admiring you. “You're beautiful”

“You're just saying that because I picked both of you” you laugh.

“No,” Eddie whispers in your ear. “he was thinking it before you even came to talk to us. Weren't you, Harrington?”

“I was” he admits.

“I told you she'd look really cute blushing” Eddie says to Steve while his lips brush your earlobe.

You turn your head to him, and Eddie catches your mouth with his. Slower this time, taking his time pulling you in.

Then Steve leans in, and you turn to him next, catching his mouth in a more urgent kiss. His hands cradle your face, thumbs brushing your cheeks.

They both took their time with you. And you'd be lying if you said they weren't so fucking good at this. Each kiss was different, and every touch was building more.

Eddie's hands start to wonder. One on your back and the other making his way up in between your legs, reaching to the hem of your dress.

“You're gonna drive us both crazy, princess” he whispers in your ear as you keep making out with Steve.

He kisses your neck passionately. sucking, biting, making you moan into the other boy's mouth.

Steve pulls back and he sees how Eddie kept moving your dress upward and upward, almost catching a glimpse of your panties.

Eddie starts kissing you again, not letting you breathe properly after Steve that he's already pulling you in another.

The other boy sits on your other side and kisses your neck as his hands take liberty. He slowly moves up to your breasts, giving you time to move him away if you didn't want this. But you let him move freely.

As Eddie grabs your jaw and kisses you deeply, Steve starts playing with your breasts on top of the dress, massaging them and softly playing with the nipples, making you whimper in between the kisses.

Eddie moves down as he gets to your collarbone.

“Can we take it off, sweetheart?” Steve asks in your ear.

“Yeah” you almost moan. And he unzips the dress to move it slowly down your body, freeing you from the waist up.

The boys almost forget to breathe when they see you're not wearing a bra underneath.

“Mmph fuck,” Eddie says as he gets closer again to start kissing you there. “you're perfect”

“She really is” Steve lets out as he dives in as well. Each boy kissing, sucking and biting on your breasts, making you whimper and close your legs to find some friction.

Eddie is the first one to let go, he sits up and takes off his jacket and shoes, then takes off your boots as well.

You lay more comfortably on the bed, Steve next to you as he kisses you again. You move his shirt up and he takes it off completely.

Eddie joins you, laying behind you as he kisses down your back and takes your boobs in his hands again.

You arch at his touch and he bites your waist slightly.

When Steve gets up, the other boy flips you around to meet him now and goes back to kissing you. You take his shirt off and throw it to the floor, he gets rid of your dress as well, leaving you only in your panties.

“Fuck” Steve stands there palming his cock through his boxers now, as he already took his jeans off.

Eddie looks up at him and grins, he stands up as well, leaving you in the bed for their eyes only. He gets rid of his jeans as they had gotten really uncomfortable.

You lay back, catching your breath from all those kisses and stare at the two boys, their torsos, their happy trails and down to the tent they both had in their boxers.

Little did you know, they were doing the same to you.

“Who takes their underwear off first?” you smirk, sitting up.

“You are” Eddie smirks, already coming to take it off of you.

“No, wait!” you giggle. “you two… and then me”

“You are an evil woman” Eddie confirms.

There's a few seconds of silence as they wait for the other to do the honors.

“Alright, fine” Steve dares. He slides his red boxers down, letting them fall to the floor.

Steve is… big, his cock stands proudly, large and the tip already pink.

You bite back your smirk and move your eyes to the other boy.

Eddie chuckles, rolls his eyes, and lets his blue boxers down.

To no one's surprise, Eddie is big too. You start to worry about the state of your legs tomorrow.

Eddie's more girthy, not as large. Red tip wet with pre-cum.

“You're drooling” Steve teases you.

“You wish” you say playfully.

“Your turn, pretty girl” he reminds you.

“Can I?” Eddie asks, already grabbing your black panties. You nod and he gladly slides them off.

They both let out a low groan as their eyes only focus on you.

“She's so fucking wet” Steve tells Eddie.

“We barely did anything yet,” Eddie smirks. “you got that wet from a few kisses and touches, baby?”

“I wanna taste her” Steve comments and gets on his knees in front of the bed. He puts your legs on each of his shoulders and starts kissing your thighs.

Eddie lays next to you and pulls you in for another kiss. You moan in his mouth as you feel Steve licking your clit.

He slowly starts kissing and sucking on your clit, making you whimper.

“Yeah? Is he making you feel good? Tell me, baby” Eddie whispers in your ear, then kissing it as well.

“Oh, just like that” you let out.

Steve keeps sucking on your clit, making you feel so good already, as two fingers make their way to your entrance, letting them inside in one swift movement, making you arch back.

Your hands fly to his soft hair, pulling his head even closer.

“Don't bite that lip, sweetheart, let us hear you” Eddie murmurs next to you and you go kiss him again. He smirks and gladly kisses you back. His hand goes to your nipple, playing with it. One of your hands goes down to grab his dick, slowly stroking him.

“Mmm sweetheart, fuck” he moans and goes down to kiss your breasts.

Steve's fingers curl upwards making you moan and pull him closer with your other hand. His tongue flat against your clit, making you feel so close already.

“Oh god!” you scream as they both make you feel so good. “Right there, just like that!”

You stroke Eddie faster, trying to make him feel as good as you are. He keeps mumbling curses against your skin and gripping your waist harder.

“Oh, Steve! Eddieeee!” you moan louder as you feel yourself coming. That high feeling taking over, making your stomach whirl and your legs close, trapping Steve inside.

“Shit, stop, stop” Eddie moves your hand before he cums, getting too lost on your touch and watching you cum was almost making him finish as well.

As you come down, your legs loosen around Steve's head and he looks up laughing, mouth and cheeks shining.

“Come here, taste her” Steve tells Eddie as he pulls him in a hungry kiss.

“Mmh, fuck, so sweet” the other one moans.

“Tastes so good” Steve agrees.

“Shut up” you laugh, blushing.

“You feel okay?” Steve checks in.

“More than okay” you giggle.

“You wanna keep going?” he asks against your lips.

“Yes, please” you smile and kiss him. It's a sweet kiss in between all this passion. He lifts you up so you sit.

“How do you wanna go?” Eddie asks, hugging you from behind.

“I think we're already in position” you joke, Eddie behind you and Steve in front of you.

“You sure you can take Steve in your mouth?” Eddie asks and you all laugh.

“I think she can take it” He smirks.

“Don't you wanna fuck me, Eddie?” you tease him, moving your ass against him back and forth. He grabs your cheeks roughly and sits you on him, making you feel all of him against your pussy.

“You wanna play coy with me, princess?” He says in your ear.

“Mmm, Eddie” you try to move to feel the friction.

“I think he likes to be in control” Steve tells you, as an advice.

“That’s right, you do as we say” Eddie reminds you.

“Yes, sir” you say almost joking, but he liked that.

“Good girl, now go forward, all on fours for us” he slowly pushes you forwad, hands on the mattress and ass up.

Steve grabs a condom from his nightstand and gives it to Eddie so he puts it on.

Steve positions himself in front of you, carresses your cheek as he brushes his dick on your lips. “Open up, beautiful”

You do as he says and open wide, he slides inside your mouth. Slowly for now, allowing you to take your time.

Eddie brushes his tip on your pussy, collecting your slick. And then pushes it inside, inch by inch.

You moan agaist Steve and that makes him groan as well. He collects your hair and makes a ponytail on his hand, to guide you easily.

Eddie grabs your hips tighter once he's all inside. Throws his head back. “She's so tight”

“Yeah? Is she? We're gonna have to stretch her up” Steve comments.

You swallow your moans as you go to take more of Steve, one full hand is still on his base, stroking what you can't take.

“God, that feels good” Steve moans.

“Make sure you take all of Stevie now, you greedy little slut” Eddie says between his teeth. He's meaner than Steve, but that shift of their personalities makes you wish this was not just a one night stand.

You know you can play with Eddie and he will punish you, he will tease you to death. All while Steve feels bad and kisses it better.

You move your hips, making Eddie go faster. He doesn't like that you take over.

He grabs your hips, pulling you closer, making you feel even more full. You moan on Steve's cock.

“Oh you want more? I'll give you more” Eddie says and gives you a hard spank on your ass, making you whimper. All of this getting Steve closer and closer, the vibrations everytime you moan on his cock, your face struggling to take it all, the view of Eddie's cock slamming inside of you and his hand spanking you hard.

Your walls squeeze Eddie tigher, and he spanks you again just feel that.

“Shit, you're so hot. Our little slut” he murmurs as he goes harder. “She's gripping me so hard, man”

“He's not going anywhere, sweetheart” Steve giggles as he mocks you.

You force yourself to take more of Steve. Close your eyes and breath deeply through your nose and you take him further into your mouth.

“Oh yes, just a little more, baby” he moans.

And you do just that, with his help as he pushes your head slowly to take more of him, you suddenly feel his hairs against your nose and you keep him there as long as you can. Your eyes well up and you start coughing.

He let's you breathe. “Atta girl, I knew you could do it. Such a good girl”

Eddie smirks, loving to see you like that. And he doesn't help. Instead, he goes faster and starts playing with your clit, he knew you were getting closer.

“Oh!” you scream as you feel that high building up. Steve brushes your hair and leaves kisses all over you as you take it.

“Are you close, pretty girl? I can feel you squeezing me harder” Eddie moans.

“Yes! Eddie! I- I'm cuming” you cry out.

“Cum for us, lets us see you cum for us again, pretty girl, so beautiful” he kisses your shoulder as well.

“Oh my god! Oh yes!” you let yourself come undone.

And as Eddie feels you cuming around him, he slams faster into you, messier.

“You're so tight, you feel s'good. God, you're so pretty, hottest girl I've ever seen” he keeps rambling, mumbling while he cums.

You both lay back, Eddie throws the condom away, and you catch your breath between giggles as he gives you looks.

“You okay?” he smiles.

“I'm great,” you smile at him. “that was incredible”

“You're incredible” he smiles cheekily.

“Hey,” you turn to Steve. “you”

“Hey you” he smiles at you.

“You didn't finish” you say.

“I'm fine, I'll just take a shower-” he tries but you stop him.

“No, come here”

“But you're tired-”

“I said, come here” you smirk and he laughs.

He sits on the bed, next to you. His dick still standing, a little more red now, wanting attention.

“Grab another condom” you whisper as you sit on his lap.

Eddie sits up, smirking, ready to enjoy the show.

Steve puts it on and pulls you closer. You wrap your arms around his neck and he positions himself on your entrance. “Just tell me if you wanna stop”

“Don't worry” you say and he lowers you on his cock. “Mmph”

“Shit, you're right, she's so tight” he groans, talking to Eddie.

“Isn't she? It's like she doesn't let you escape” Eddie smirks.

“Yeah, man. Even after you fucked her, she's still gripping me” he agrees.

They keep talking as if you weren't even there, and it was turning you on even more. You jump on his cock faster.

“Look at the little bunny, still has my hand marked on her ass” Eddie smirks proudly. He wishes he could take a picture of you jumping on Harrington's cock with his own hand printed on your ass cheek.

Steve grabs your ass and moves you faster, biting on his lip as he's been edged all night, he's about to cum so hard.

Eddie notices that and gets closer to you, fingers on your clit to help you cum once more. “Can you do another one, princess? Be a good girl and cum on Steve's cock now”

“Oh fuck” you arch back, so close already.

“Go on, princess. Wanna watch you cum again, you look so perfect cuming for us” Eddie's fingers work on your clit a little too well, guitarist fingers, no doubt. Steve's cock still slamming into you, making you feel so full. It's only a few seconds later that they have you cuming again. Which obviously makes Steve finish too, he was trying to hold it so you could still cum.

After some minutes where you come back down, Eddie grabs you and pulls you on his lap, Steve gets up and throws the condom. He notices there's less noise downstairs now, there must be just a few people still hanging out that he'll have to kick out. He throws something on and gets out.

“Hey, let's go clean you up” Eddie whispers.

After a couple of minutes, Eddie and you get comfy on the bed. You put a DIO shirt on that you guess it's Eddie's. And then, Steve comes back up.

“They left, finally” he announces.

“You're just in time to stop the villain from stealing the princess” Eddie jokes.

“Make some room, idiot” Steve takes his jeans back off.

“Come here, big boy. The bed's warm and she's warmer”

[lazysoulwriter]

why watch it when i can show you? - Pedro Pascal. (MDNI)

requested! thank you. ♡ content: established relationship, jealousy, movie night, Pedro being cheeky, sexual tension, soft dominance, fingering, praise, emotional intimacy, possessive Pedro, spicy fluff, reader being silently jealous but trying to play it cool, NSFW (18+)

---

Pedro was sprawled on the couch, one arm lazily resting along the back, the other curled around your waist, pulling you close into his side. Movie night was your thing. Popcorn, fuzzy blanket, random Pedro flicks you’d claim to pick “because the story looks good” (you were a terrible liar, by the way), and some occasional heavy petting depending on his mood. Or yours.

This one, though? This one had young Pedro. Hot, slightly sweaty, and currently pulling some woman into a very intense kiss on-screen.

You squirmed a little, not pulling away—just… adjusting.

Pedro reached for the remote immediately. “We can skip this part.”

You looked up at him, surprised. “Why?”

He gave a small, sheepish smile. “I dunno. I mean… it’s weird watching myself do that shit. And—well—maybe it makes you uncomfortable.”

“It’s fine.” You tried to sound casual. “You were working. You look great.”

Pedro narrowed his eyes slightly. Not at the compliment. At the tone. You were smiling, but your body was stiff. Your hand that had been on his chest now rested limply on your lap.

The scene continued. On-screen Pedro groaned into someone else's neck. Bit down on someone else's lip. Touched someone else like he was aching.

You didn’t look away, but your mouth went tight.

Pedro noticed everything.

He grabbed the remote again and paused it.

You blinked. “Why’d you stop it?”

“Because,” he murmured, his voice low and warm, “you’re being quiet. And when you're quiet like this, it's never just because you're watching.”

“I said it’s okay—”

“And I said it’s not.” He shifted, bringing his hand up to your chin, tilting your face toward him. “Sweetheart, don’t do that. Don’t hide things from me.”

Your eyes flicked away. “It’s stupid. I know it’s acting. I just—ugh, I hate that I get jealous over a fucking movie scene.”

Pedro leaned in, kissing the corner of your mouth, soft and slow. “It’s not stupid. It’s sexy.”

You raised an eyebrow. “Me being jealous is sexy?”

He nodded, smiling as his fingers traced down your arm. “It means you want me. That you're mine. And that you care.”

Your breath hitched as his hand slid between your thighs, cupping you gently over your shorts.

“And I fucking love that,” he whispered.

“Pedro…”

“Let me remind you,” he said, voice roughening, “what it feels like when I touch someone I actually love.”

Your eyes fluttered closed as his fingers slipped past the waistband and found you already wet and needy for him. He groaned.

“Look at that, baby,” he smirked. “All this jealousy got you this wet? For me?”

“Shut up,” you gasped, squirming as his fingers circled your clit with maddening slowness.

“No, no. You don’t get to be quiet now.” He kissed down your neck, each word warm and wet against your skin. “You tell me what you need. Right now.”

“You,” you whimpered. “I just need you, Pedro. Just—you.”

His lips found yours, deep and messy and possessive, fingers pushing deeper as you gasped into his mouth. There was no performance here. No scene. Just him and you and all that love wrapped in filthy, devoted pleasure.

“You don’t ever have to be jealous,” he whispered against your lips, pumping his fingers slow and deep. “They’re just actors. You’re the only one I want screaming my name.”

And scream it you did.

Later, when you were panting in his arms and he was stroking your hair, Pedro leaned in close and whispered:

“Next time you’re feeling jealous… just tell me. I’ll take care of it every single time.”

---

✦ please do not copy, repost, or translate this work. © lazysoulwriter // i write with a lot of love and care, so please respect that.

[shurisneakers]

unsolved (xiv)

Summary: Bucky doesn’t even believe in the paranormal. So who the hell thought it was a good idea to stick him in a series about everything haunted for the internet’s amusement? With his loose-canon of a teammate who has no concept of subtlety or shits left to give, to make things even worse. (Buzzfeed unsolved AU)

Warnings: swearing, frustrated bucky, obnoxious reader, seasickness,

A/N: hey how are we feeling about bucky barnes being back with a fuckass bob. old man's got JOKES. im gonna kiss him.

Previous part || Series masterlist

There’s a book open on his lap but he’s not touched a single page. You’ve got a few books strewn across in different distances from you– physics, psychology, cooking. 

He’s stretched out across the floor with his legs thrown over your lap, back against one of the bookshelves. One leg has already fallen asleep since he hasn’t moved in the last two hours. The other digs its heel into your thigh every time he shifts.

You’ve got a clipboard balanced on top of his shins and a pen in your mouth.

You’re scribbling.

He watches you, warily, feeling the indents of the shelf in his back.

His phone plays the Velvet Underground at a volume just above whispering. 

But the library is warm. And you snuck a flask of something warm past the librarian, and wouldn’t tell him what exactly he was drinking but told him to trust you, and he did. 

“What the hell are you doing?”

“Nothing.”

“You have a clipboard.”

“It’s for science.”

“You’re making that face.”

“I have one face.”

“You have at least three,” he mutters, eyes drooping. “And the one you’re making is never good news.”

“I’m not,” you say, offended. “I’m just cataloguing your responses in different haunted locations.”

Bucky stares. “You’re unbelievable.”

“And thorough.” You tap the page. “Okay. Quick question. Rank these: ghost orphanage, blood motel, mirror forest, murder mansion, possessed gas station.”

He sighs and leans his head back against the books. “Too much effort.”

“C’mon. Based on vibes, then.”

“Vibes? I almost got murdered at the gas station.”

“So that’s a ten?”

“I didn’t say that.”

“Silent agreement. Got it.”

He shifts his foot just enough to knock the clipboard sideways. You catch it easily.

“You’re avoiding,” you sing.

“I’m surviving,” he replies, eyes closed.

You poke his leg with your pen. “I’m just trying to map it out, Buck. There’s a pattern, I know it.”

He cracks an eye open. “And what happens once you figure it out?”

You shrug. “Then I stop dragging you into the ones that hurt. Or I keep doing it, but I bring snacks.”

His smile is slight, but his foot settles again.

You take that as a go-ahead.

“Okay,” you say, chewing the end of your pen. “Would you say your discomfort in haunted locations is more visual, auditory, or tied to–”

Bucky lifts his phone and mutes the song. The chimes disappear into silence.

You blink. “...Was that dramatic or are you helping?”

“Helping,” he says flatly. “You can’t do a field study with a soundtrack.”

You grin down at him. “God, you’re such a good test subject.”

“Don’t make it weird.”

“Too late.” You blow him a kiss. A stupid, immature, teenager-y part of him takes it to be as close to the real thing for now.

“Shouldn’t have let you bring me here.”

“I literally just said hi and you asked where we were going.” 

“Shut up,” he mutters. 

And then you return to your clipboard, tongue caught in your cheek, already mid-question again as his eyes flutter shut.

You don’t say anything for a while. Just the soft scratching of your pen, the hum of the muted light overhead, the quiet rhythm of him breathing, slower now.

You glance over.

He’s still got his eyes closed, head resting back against an old copy of Emma, mouth relaxed in a way it rarely is when he’s awake.

You’re about to poke him again with the pen when you remember something.

“Oh,” you say, like it’s nothing. “By the way. Our next case is a haunted cruise ship.”

He doesn’t open his eyes. Just lets out a low, long groan.

“That shit makes me seasick.”

You smile, soft. “Okay. Then I’ll find something else.”

He shifts slightly, still not looking at you.

“Nah,” he mumbles. “It’s fine. We’ll go.”

“You sure?”

“Mhm.”

He shifts again, lazily, until he’s rolled halfway onto his side, legs still slung over your lap, arm tucked under his head.

Settled.

You stare at him for a second longer, pen hovering uselessly above your clipboard.

Then you look down and write:

Subject may be growing fond. Possibly attached. Observe further.

And beneath that, smaller:

Also: seasick. Do not let steer boat.

“I just want to set the tone,” you say, stepping lightly onto the rusted gangway with arms wide and a dramatic spin. “For the record, even though you and her are the same age at the end of the movie, I am the Rose in this situation.” 

Bucky, standing behind you with a duffel bag slung over one shoulder, responds. “You mean doomed?”

“I mean devastatingly hot.”

He takes a cautious step onto the gangway. It groans. Loudly.

“This thing’s gonna collapse and then I’m going to be the one floating on driftwood,” he says. 

You glance back over your shoulder, grinning. “You’d let me drown?”

“I’d let you have your monologue first.”

“Wow.”

You spin again, wind tugging at your jacket, and gesture to the looming structure ahead.

The Odette rises out of the fog.

White paint peeled back to rust. Windows dark. Decks slanted just enough to make the walk a bit of a trek. 

The dock beneath you is warped and uneven, and the whole structure leans as if the water itself is trying to reclaim it.

“This is going to be a very romantic evening. I can feel it,” you tell him. “It’s giving summer romance on the waves.”

“It’s giving tetanus,” Bucky mutters, eyeing the railing. “Did you get a tetanus shot this year?”

“What’s a little tetanus in the grand scheme of things?”

“Do you ever process the things you’re saying or do you just freestyle it?”

You step through the hull door, flashlight flicking on with a warm click.

Inside, the ship is exactly what you'd hoped: creaking wood, disorienting reflections from old mirrors, the lingering scent of salt and mold and varnish.

It’s not ice cold, but it feels like it should be. No light enters in through the dusty windows. 

Bucky walks slowly beside you, metal arm brushing against yours as you move deeper into the central hall.

“This place is barely thirty miles from the city,” he says, scanning the space. “You’d think someone would’ve turned it into an Airbnb by now.”

“They tried three different times. One crew abandoned the job overnight. The other two refused to stay past sundown. Last contractor quit two hours in.”

He makes a noise in consideration. 

“Anyway,” you say, pausing beneath a crumbling art deco archway. “Here’s what we’re working with. 

"Then one night, she vanished mid-voyage. Off the coast near Long Island. Clear weather. No distress calls. She was just... gone. They found the ship the next morning, still running. No crew onboard. Like the whole ship had just stopped."

"Anyway," you continue.

“Look,” you say, “if I go missing on this shit, just tell people I vanished. Don’t ruin the mystery.”

“Noted,” he says dryly. 

You grin. 

The hallway smells like wet velvet.

You push open the next door and step into a long, narrow hallway.

“Oh, by the way, we’re staying overnight.”

There’s a pause. A long one.

“Sorry?”

“On the ship,” you say lightly, scrolling again. “Spending the night. Full investigation, sunrise exit, et cetera.”

Bucky stops walking. “That was not in the briefing.”

“What do you think is in the duffel bag you’re carrying?”

“Change of clothes because we’re on water.”

“You’re planning on swimming?”

“Considering I’m with you, I wouldn’t rule out anything.” 

You grin. “The ship’s tethered, you’re not getting thrown overboard.”

 “Right, ‘cause nothing abnormal ever happens around you.”

“We’ve talked about this. Racing heart, nervousness are signs that you’re in love with me, not paranormal activity.”

“I’m not in love with you.”

“Denial looks so hot on you babe.”

He rolls his eyes, moving ahead past you.]

"The ship's not moving. It's hardcore anchored, so you don't have to worry about the waves. I made sure."

"Joy."

"Unless, of course, the ship decides to set course with us in it. But then we'd have bigger problems than you throwing up."

"Thanks. Good to know."

The next room is a dining salon, or what’s left of one.

Long tables still bolted to the ground. Place settings eerily intact. The dust is thick.

You shine your flashlight along a stack of plates. They’re china. Real. Cracked at the edges but still arranged in neat piles.

“I got us sandwiches. Wanna eat it on that?”

“You’d be eating more dustmites than bread.” 

"Oh, word. Protein."

Bucky’s flashlight points toward a faded sign above the wall paneling. It reads: Midnight Banquet. Closed Event. Strictly Guests Only.

“Well, I feel deeply unwelcome,” he mutters.

You step closer to the table and pull back a chair. It’s heavy. Cold.

“They say the night she vanished, Odette was hosting one of her private parties. Whole thing was invite-only, super-exclusive. Her ‘farewell to the sea.’”

He rests a hand on the back of one of the chairs. It creaks beneath the pressure, but doesn’t move.

“Talk to the spirits,” you tell him. “They’re supposed to be real hospitable ‘cause it’s all waitstaff for the ultra-wealthy.” 

“I’m not talking to the air.”

“Just say ‘hi’, It’s common courtesy.”

He gives you a weathered look. You nod seriously.

He sighs, shifting the duffel bag to his other shoulder.

“Hello, demons,” he tests slowly, awkwardly. “It’s… James.”

“Who the fuck has ever called you James in your life? You immediately interject. 

“That is my name.”

“No one has ever called you James,” you scoff. “Hello spirits? His name is Bucky Barnes, also known as Bucky Barnes. And he is single and ready to be haunted.”

Bucky rolls his eyes so hard he might just see his brain, but the second he turns to retort with a glare, he falters. 

Golden, flickering, warm.

The room smells like citrus oil and perfume. It’s bright. There’s a glow to everything. Not artificial. Sunlight. Morning sunlight, thick and amber and alive.

You don’t know where it’s coming from.

There’s a polished table in the middle, partially set. Delicate china cups. A half-eaten grapefruit. Silverware placed with elegance. A folded napkin resting over someone’s chair, like they stepped away mid-brunch.

He looks at you, covered in the same rays you’ve dragged him to the roof too many times just before sunrise to see. It makes him swallow the thickness in his throat at how… radiant–

“I think we’re at brunch,” you whisper, snapping him out of it. 

There are coats slung over the back of chairs. Gloves. A handbag, its clasp slightly open. Someone’s reading glasses resting on a closed book.

Bucky doesn’t answer. He’s scanning the room like he’s expecting someone to laugh, to enter, to scold them for intruding.

It feels like somewhere nearby, someone’s telling a joke. Someone’s fixing their lipstick. Someone is about to ask you how long you’re staying and whether you’re from the city.

You walk further in. The carpet is soft under your boots.  

You rest your hand on the edge of the table. The porcelain is still warm.

Glass. Clinking, faintly. A fork brushing against a plate. A woman’s voice, low and amused. Not words. Just the tone.

You turn slowly, goosebumps crawling up your arms.

There’s no one there.

But it feels like there is.

Bucky’s still watching the room like it’s going to move on its own.

You don’t answer.

There’s a sound then. Not loud. Just a scrape, like someone pulling their chair back, ready to leave.

You both turn.

Nothing moves.

But the folded napkin is now unfolded, crumpled gently on the seat.

The grapefruit is gone.

The juice pitcher is empty.

The book on the side table is closed, a bookmark placed neatly between its pages.

You blink.

There is only rusted metal, cold dead silence and the thick smell of salt. 

Back to dust. Rot.

“Did you see–”

“Yep.” 

You glance around. 

The pale green walls half peeled and browned. Wet splotches on the ceiling. 

There’s a painting of a garden party over the fireplace, and beside it is a mirror.

Full-length. Silver-framed. Spotless.

You tilt your head at it.

Bucky walks closer, and the moment you both step in front of it, you freeze.

Because it’s you.

But not exactly.

Standing too near. Soft expressions that don’t match the faces you think you wear. A version of you that belongs here. A version of Bucky that isn’t carrying everything in his shoulders. 

Like you’re mid-conversation. Like this is familiar.

You glance at him.

He’s staring at the mirror with an unreadable expression.

“…That’s not real,” he says after a long pause.

“No shit.”

“I don’t stand like that.”

“I don’t smile like that.”

The version of you in the mirror glances up. At him.

The reflection of Bucky gives you that smile. You recognise it– it’s the one he only ever uses when he thinks no one’s looking. Sometimes it makes an appearance when you say something exceptionally stupid. 

Your stomach does something unhelpful.

“Okay,” you say too loudly, stepping back. “Well, that’s cursed.”

“Some fucking gas leak has us hallucinating here,” he adds, voice rough. “We’re leaving before we pass out.”

He slinks away, clearing his throat and blinking harshly a few times. What the fuck. 

“Got another hundred rooms and a whole night– well fuck,” you stop midway. 

“What?” he asks, trying to reconcile with what he just saw. 

“I don’t know how long we’ve been in this fucking room but it’s close to midnight,” you murmur. “Crazy.”

That’s one way of putting it. 

“Well, that was fun. I’m gonna go check if we got any of that on camera or if we just went through a cool new bonding exercise in our heads,” you say, unfazed.

Bucky thinks that the world may not be all he’s been believing all these years. 

You walk out of the room, leaving Bucky to follow. 

He turns to the mirror again.

It’s cracked.

Just once, straight down the middle.

“C’mon, we’ve gotta go check out the captain’s quarters,” you call.

“Coming,” he grunts out, exhaling slightly. 

He turns again, just out of instinct, one last time– 

She’s there.

Small. Smiling. Bright-eyed in that way only memory can exaggerate..

Standing beside him in the reflection, just for a moment. Hair tucked behind her ears. Wearing a sundress he got her with money from overtime at the docks

She mouths something.

“Leave.”

He takes half a step back. Blinks.

She’s gone.

Your voice sounds distant, asking something, but he doesn’t register what.

He turns. Doesn’t speak. Just walks out.

You walk in silence for a while.

Your boots creak against the warped floor. Bucky’s steps are quieter. Measured.

You glance sideways at him.

He’s got that look again. The one where he’s processing, but pretending he’s not.

You open your mouth. Close it again.

You stop in the middle of the corridor. He stops too, reluctantly.

Your voice drops, suddenly serious. “You saw it. The mirror. Us.”

“Did I?

He starts walking again.

“You’re being weird about this,” you say, catching up.

“I’m being normal about this,” he mutters.  

You roll your eyes. “You’re deflecting. That’s fine. That’s your thing. But I know when something rattles you.”

He snorts. “I wasn’t rattled.”

You study his face. The way his mouth is set, the way his jaw ticks every few seconds like he’s grinding through something.

You stop again.

And then you sit down. Right there in the middle of the hallway. Clipboard across your lap like a shield.

He blinks down at you.

“What are you doing.”

“Something’s wrong, Bucky.”

“Something’s always wrong.”

You pull a pen from behind your ear like it’s a sword. “You’re being weird. This isn’t just normal you-weird, this is that weird.”

He sighs.

“Alright. Paranormal scale. One to ten. Emotional impact, ten being a full snot-crying on my shoulder.”

He groans. “Put that away.”

“You’re pale.”

“That’s just my face.”

“You look seasick.”

“I am seasick.”

“From a ship that hasn’t moved since 1900s?”

He closes his eyes. “I should’ve left you in the mirror.”

“You wouldn’t. I was fake-laughing at your jokes.”

He snorts. Looks away. That one almost got him.

You make a show of writing something down. “So. You’re not talking. You’re not denying it either. Conclusion?”

“I’m tired.”

You study him for a few more moments. Bucky doesn’t change.

You glance down at the clipboard. Then, gently, you place it back in the bag.

You offer him a bottle of water instead. He takes it.

“Where’s the quarters,” he asks. 

“Straight ahead,” you oblige. 

The lantern’s been off for fifteen minutes.

Technically, it’s lights-out.

Realistically, you’re still awake.

Lying on your back, blanket pulled over your chest, eyes fixed on the water-stained ceiling, listening to the gentle scratch of pen on paper.

Bucky shifts in his sleeping bag beside you. “Are you writing again?”

“No,” you say, scribbling something else. “I’m documenting.”

He exhales through his nose. “Same thing.”

“I’m keeping a record in case we’re murdered in the night. I think that’s responsible.”

“You wrote ‘smells like seaweed’ earlier.”

“It did smell like seaweed.”

He turns his head. “What does it smell like now?”

You pause. “Unresolved tension.”

“Go to sleep.”

“I will. I’m just waiting.”

He groans. “For what?”

You tap your pen. “To see if any of the staff shows up. Captain usually goes on rounds at night.”

“There’s no ghost captain.”

“There might be. He probably wears epaulettes and appears only to emotionally complicated people.”

“My bad, tell him I say hi when you meet.”

You toss a balled-up gum wrapper in his direction. It hits his shoulder.

You glance at him. He’s lying perfectly still, like if he commits hard enough, he’ll vanish.

You turn back to your clipboard. “I think if I die, they’ll probably promote me. Make me first mate.”

“You’d be thrown overboard in five minutes.”

“I’d haunt the galley. Spill soup on your ghost boots.”

“Ghost boots.”

“Ghost boots.”

“You still haven’t told me where you got that fucking candle from.”

“Stole it from brunch.” You glance at the small tealight flickering next to your knee. “It’s ambiance.”

“You’re going to burn the ship down.”

“It’s in a dish.”

“You put it in a cup.”

“It fits perfectly.”

There’s a long pause.

“You’re insane.”

You smile to yourself. “You love it.”

“I tolerate it.”

“You love it.”

Bucky doesn’t answer.

He just rolls over, pulling the sleeping bag tighter. “Wake me up if anyone on the staff’s hot.”

You grin, still scribbling. “I’ll put that in the notes.”

The first thing he notices is the movement.

A deep, rolling sway. Not a casual creak or a groan, but a full-bodied shift.

He blinks awake.

Immediately regrets it.

His stomach lurches sideways.

The ceiling above him is doing slow, sick figure-eights.

“God–” he mutters, pressing the heel of his hand to his forehead. “You’ve got to be kidding me.”

The ship rocks again, harder this time.

He grabs the edge of his sleeping bag like it’ll help. It doesn’t.

He closes his eyes, counts to five, and opens them again.

And that’s when he realizes.

The sleeping bag next to his is empty.

No candle. No clipboard.

No you.

“Jesus fucking Christ. You have to be kidding me.”

He tries to sit up and instantly regrets that too.

Something slips down from his forehead and lodges on his nose. 

He pulls it off and stares at it.

A sticky note.

You’ve written in your neatest cursive:

“Gone to investigate.

If I die, avenge me.

If I live, take me bowling.”

He stares at it.

Underneath, in all caps:

“DO NOT THROW UP IN THE CORNER. THAT’S MY SIDE.”

Then lets his head fall back against the floor with a quiet, miserable thunk.

Another lurch. The ship groans like it’s stretching awake.

He exhales through his nose. Folds the note once. Puts it in his pocket.

Then he rolls to his feet, grabbing onto walls and railings to steady himself, and sets off to find you.

_____

Bucky staggers down the corridor like a man cursed, one hand braced against the wall, the other curled around his stomach. 

The ship sways harder this time like it’s trying to shrug him off.

He swears under his breath.

He rounds a corner, stomach lurching again, and stops in the doorway of the captain’s room.

You’re there.

Grinning like a lunatic, wind in your face that doesn’t technically exist, spinning the massive ship’s wheel with both hands.

He shouts over the noise. “What the hell are you doing?”

You look over, delighted. “Steering!”

He blinks. “We’re not moving.”

You point dramatically. “We are listing to port, sir. Someone had to take control before this ship took us to fucking hell.”

The wheel creaks as you spin it again. You lean into it like it might actually do something.

“You’re making it worse,” he groans, dragging himself fully into the room. 

You glance at him. “You look awful.”

“I feel worse.”

“You’re green.”

“The room is fucking spinning.”

“I know, I’m trying to counterbalance it.”

He collapses against the nearest console like it might forgive him. The whole floor shifts again, a slow, sick tilt that makes the walls groan in protest.

You finally let go of the wheel. "Honestly, the ship started making all these weird noises and when I got up to check, it started rocking like we're in the middle of a storm. I was hoping I'd get it under control before it woke you up. Didn't want you to get sick."

The ship groans again. Still. Slower, maybe. But still wrong.

You look at him a little closer now.

“Okay, you really don’t look good.”

“I woke up alone. On a moving ship.”

“Did you throw up on my side?

“There was a note taped to my face.”

“I told you not to throw up on my side.”

“Stop talking about throwing up,” he groans. 

“Alright, Buck,” you say brightly, “your turn!”

He doesn’t even lift his head. “Absolutely not.”

You let go anyway.

The wheel creaks, spins half a turn on its own.

“Why is it still moving?” he asks sharply.

You’re already across the room. You step up onto the low ledge by the window and spread your arms slightly, windless but dramatic.

“I’m the king of the world,” you announce.

“Get down.”

The ship lists again. He lurches forward, catches himself on the wheel, and immediately regrets touching it.

You hop down lightly and clap your hands together. “Okay, okay, fine. Keep steering. I’ll figure this out..”

“I’m not steering.”

“You are steering. You’re at the wheel. That’s what it means.”

“I’m touching the wheel. That’s not consent.”

“Ghost captain would be disappointed in you.”

“Ghost captain should drive his own damn ship.”

He grips the wheel with one hand. It shifts again beneath his fingers, slow and unsteady.

The wind’s gotten worse.

The deck tilts again, hard. You catch yourself, slide a few inches toward the helm, wind slamming through the cracks in the wall.

“Okay, okay,” you pant. “I think it’s pulling to the left. Hold on, I’ll try to level it out–”

“Christ alive, hurry up.”

“I am doing my best.”

The ship lists again. He makes a noise and grips the wheel tighter.

“I hate this place,” he mutters. ”I hate ghosts. I hate ships. I hate being haunted.”

“I thought the brunch wasn’t that bad–”

“That’s not what I’m talking about. 'm talking about the dead people who've been after me for months.” He clenches his eyes shut to quell the nausea. 

The ship groans under you like it’s stretching its spine.

“What?”

Fuck.

“What do you mean dead people have been after you for months?”

He’s not looking at you. Both hands on the wheel, jaw clenched.

You stare.

He swallows. Doesn’t repeat it. But the damage is done.

You step toward him, slow. “Bucky.”

“Can you make this stop?” he says, voice as even as he can make it.

The ship groans again, loud now. Almost angry.

You plant your legs firmly on the ground. 

Your fingers dig into the palm.

Steady. Focused.

And the wind begins to slow.

Not like flipping a switch, but with a groan. 

The ship stops rolling. The tilt evens.

It doesn’t feel natural, not in the way ships normally respond to weight or wind, but it’s still. 

You breathe hard. Keep your hands where they are.

Bucky is still staring at the wheel, like it’s safer than meeting your eyes.

“Forget what I said, I’m sick,” he says, voice rough. 

You don't say anything when you look at him. 

The ship groans beneath you but this time it’s heavier.

You step to the window again, squinting out into the dark.

He doesn’t look up. He’s leaned over a console like the only thing keeping him upright is his refusal to puke in front of you.

You clear your throat. “I think we’re not in the water anymore.”

“What?”

You open the hatch. Step out into the stale wind.

He drags himself after you, reluctant and mildly green.

Outside, there’s nothing. No lapping water. No dock.

Just air. Fog. The faint shape of the coastline beneath you.

The Odette is levitating.

Bucky stares for a long moment.

“Did you lift the ship?”

“Not on purpose.”

“You anchored us into the air.”

“I was trying to keep it from swaying.”

“You took it off the ocean.”

You hold up both hands. “To be fair, it worked. I can put it–”

“Do not put it back down.”

You blink.

He slides down the wall and sits, knees pulled up, head in his hands. “If it starts moving again, I will jump off the side.”

You nod solemnly. “Understood, Captain.”

He drops his head to his knees.

You sit beside him.

For a long beat, neither of you say anything.

The air is cool, and it ruffles through his hair. You wipe stray strands away from his forehead. 

“If you bring that clipboard out, I’ll drown myself.”

“I’ll circle back later.”

“Absolutely not.”

You pat his knee. “Let me know when you’re ready to go back down.”

He just closes his eyes. “Give me five– twenty minutes.”

You barely make it through the front doors before being ambushed.

Really, Maya appears like she’s been summoned.

“Jesus Christ,” she says, stepping into the hallway. “You’re alive.”

You pause mid-step. “Statistically, we’re usually alive.”

Maya exhales like she’s been holding it in for hours. She’s in flats, an oversized blazer, and carrying two phones, both vibrating. 

She stops in front of you. Eyes bloodshot.  

“I have emailed. I have pinged. I have sent a courier, and the only response I got was an AI generated TikTok of both of you turning into swans.”

You blink. “I figured I was in trouble again.”

“And so you thought avoiding it would make it go away?”

“I try that with everything, it never works,” Bucky mutters. 

Maya closes her eyes. “You two are going to be the death of me.”

“You’ve said that before.”

“Yes. And every time I mean it more.” She opens her tablet. “Anyway, that’s not what I wanted to talk to you about, which you'd know if you opened my mail.”

“Sorry.”

She waves you off. “Your numbers are up. A lot.”

You raise an eyebrow. “How much is a lot?”

She turns the screen. “This is your traffic graph.”

You stare. “Why does it look like a heart attack?”

“Because while you test terribly with people over the age of 65, ages 13 to 55 love you. Congratulations. You are now accidentally our most valuable brand.”

Bucky falters. 

Maya continues, flipping to another screen. “Also, the poll about the code name? That thing you launched without approval?”

You nod slowly. “People had opinions.”

“They always have opinions. You know who else had opinions? Legal. Communications. Homeland Security, somehow.” She gestures broadly. “But good news for you: it worked. Your metrics are through the roof. So, as per the contract you signed– you only need enough videos to finish off the season. Then you’re out.”

You stare at her.  

“We’re out?” you repeat. 

Maya nods. “Done. No more videos. Just a few interviews here and there, and some social media.”

You glance at Bucky.

He’s still facing away, completely still. Like he’s buffering.

Maya softens a little. “Hey. This is good. Right? You guys– him especially– wanted this. You’re free.”

Still nothing from him.

You say, carefully, “Yeah. Great.”

She studies you both. Her voice gentles. “Seriously. You did good. I’m proud of you. Deeply, incredibly exhausted. But proud.”

Bucky finally turns. Looks like he’s trying to remember how language works.

“Thanks,” he says flatly.

Maya tilts her head. “Okay. That’s about the emotional range I expected.”

You smile faintly. “You should lie down.”

“Oh, I’m going to die standing up like a horse.” She steps back. “Eat something, you guys look terrible. And sign off on the new Mayday merch. We’re launching a footwear collection.”

“No promises,” you reply.

“I know,” she mutters, and walks off down the hall, muttering to herself about analytics. 

The silence returns.

You and Bucky stand there a while longer.

Finally, he says, without looking at you, “C’mon.”

Neither of you say what you’re thinking.

Bucky doesn’t know whether the sick feeling in his stomach is still from the ship or not.  

The elevator dings softly.

The doors slide open to your floor.

You’re half-asleep, half-hovering against the wall of the elevator, hoodie pulled over your head.

Bucky stands beside you, hands in his pockets.

You yawn, dragging your feet as you step out. “You look like you’re about to collapse. You don’t have to walk–”

Before you can finish the statement, he steps forward. Stubborn motherfucker. 

Follows you down the hall.

“I’ve made it to the room in one piece," you announce. "Now go sleep for a week.”

“I will.”

But he stays until you cross the threshold. Until the lights come on fully. 

Until you turn and say, a little softer, “Thanks.”

He nods just barely.

Then turns and disappears down the hall.

Bucky doesn’t even bother with the light when he gets back to his room.

The door slides shut behind him and he lets his coat hit the floor somewhere between the entrance and the bed.

He lands face down, boots still on, half a groan catching in his throat on the way down.

He lies there for a long time.

Somewhere near the pillow, Alpine lets out a soft chirp.

She steps delicately onto his back. Sits.

He doesn’t complain.

The buzz of his phone vibrates against the nightstand.

He reaches out blindly, flips it toward his face. Squints.

He closes his eyes again. Let the phone drop.  

From: mayday

You ever gonna talk about what you said on the boat?

Exhales long and heavy.

There’s a pause.

Then, from somewhere near his shoulder:

“You should talk about your sister.”

His eyes snap open.

He doesn’t move.

Just lies there.

Face still in the pillow.

He lifts his head. Slowly. Looks over his shoulder.

Alpine is still sitting there. Tail flicking gently.

Silence.

“I haven’t told anyone about her yet, if that’s what you care about.”

Bucky stares, mouth open.

Alpine licks her paw. Casually. 

“You can fucking talk?!”

THANK U TO EVERYONE WHO BOUGHT ME A KO-FI FOR THIS SILLY FIC

shoutout chapter 5. y'all thought I wouldn't do it. but i have been scheming throughout

here’s my ko-fi if you’d like to support my writing!

Next part

to know when this fic updates, please follow @shurisneakersupdates and turn on post notifications! it’s the only way tumblr will let me have a taglist and i don’t post there at all except for fics </3

[rafes-honey]

part two of “the one that got away” when? ☹️ low-key both rafe and jj aren't enough for her, she deserves better fr .ᐟ

Part two of… The one that got away <3

You used to laugh at girls who ran to Rafe Cameron.

The gold wrapped devil in linen shirts and daddy’s blood money. The spoiled prince of Figure Eight with coke in his back pocket and violence under his skin. A boy born of rot.

But now?

You’d rather hear his voice than another minute of your so called friends.

The fire crackled in front of you at the Boneyard, casting golden light across Pope’s face as he ranted about something school related. Again. No one listened. Not really.

Kiara leaned into JJ’s side, legs draped over his lap. His hand was on her thigh, absently tracing shapes. You tried not to look.

You failed.

Every word felt like white noise. You tried to speak once softly, offering to grab more drinks from the cooler but John B was already talking over you. JJ didn’t even glance up.

You weren’t part of the conversation anymore. You were a ghost orbiting the sun.

Your phone buzzed.

Rafe:

Come over.

Now.

No please. No question.

Just a command.

And maybe that was the only kind of voice that could still cut through the fog.

You stood up.

“Hey,” JJ looked up briefly, brows lifting. “Where you goin’?”

“Home.”

“You want a ride?” Kiara offered, tone neutral.

You shook your head. “I’ll walk.”

No one followed.

🪼

The difference between the Cut and Figure Eight slapped you in the face the second the Uber rolled past the gated Cameron estate.

His house was a fucking palace. Glass and stone and silence. The kind of wealth that swallowed up sound.

You stepped out, hugging your hoodie around you like it might keep you from being swallowed too.

The door opened before you knocked.

Rafe stood there tall, shirtless, sweatpants low on his hips. Not high. Not giddy. Just looking at you like you were expected. Like he knew you’d come.

You stepped inside.

He didn’t grab you.

He didn’t push you against a wall.

Instead, he motioned with his chin toward the stairs. “Upstairs.”

You followed, heart thudding.

The silence between you was weird. Not tense. Not cold. Just… still.

His room was dimly lit, all dark furniture and expensive cologne lingering in the air. You half-expected him to shove you onto the bed like he always did.

But instead?

He handed you something.

A bouquet.

You blinked, confused until you saw what it really was.

Jellycats.

Those stupid, overpriced plush flowers soft, floppy, smiling like cartoons. Wrapped like a real bouquet. Silk ribbon, tag still on.

$84.

You stared.

He leaned against the dresser, arms crossed. “You said you’re allergic.”

You swallowed.

“I thought you didn’t listen.”

“I don’t,” he said, too fast. Then quieter: “I just remember shit.”

You didn’t know what to say.

So you didn’t say anything.

He reached for the remote. “Come on. I put something on.”

You sat on his bed, the plush bouquet still clutched in your hands like a lifeline.

He flicked through options. “You like movies with sad girls and soft lighting, right?”

You choked out a breath. “Are you trying to guess my Letterboxd?”

He didn’t smile. But his eyes flicked toward you. “You logged Portrait of a Lady on Fire three times.”

You froze. “You looked at my—?”

He shrugged. “It’s public.”

He patted the space next to him. “Come here.”

You curled beside him. Not sexually. Not even flirtatious. Just… tucked against him like you were trying to disappear. Like maybe you could.

His arm slid around your waist.

You didn’t flinch.

The movie started. Something quiet. French. Subtitled. You weren’t paying attention. Neither was he.

You felt your throat tighten, unexpectedly. Emotion swelling. Like a bruise beneath your ribs that wouldn’t fade.

No one had remembered your allergy before.

Not even JJ.

Not even when your eyes swelled and your throat closed during that picnic months ago when he brought daisies “just because.”

Rafe did.

And he didn’t say anything clever or sweet. Didn’t joke about it. Didn’t act like it meant anything.

But he did it.

And when you closed your eyes and pressed your face into his chest, his hand drifted lazily through your hair.

You didn’t speak.

You didn’t need to.

Because for once, someone had looked at you and noticed.

Not to love you.

But to keep you.

[gallavichsreddie1128]

Are You Kidding (John Walker)

Description: Bucky isn’t a fan of Y/N flirting with John Walker

Word Count:1,255

Author’s Note: Send in requests!!!

When Val sent Y/N to kill this US Agent she didn’t realize who it was until he took off that awful mask. “Oh my god.” She lowered her weapon, “I would have never tried to kill you had I known how hot you are.” She walked up to him. Yelena and Ava give her a weird look. John looks down at her with a smirk, “You think I’m hot?” He asked. “Think? You are hot.” This awful moment got interrupted by Bob. 

“Bucky!” She exclaimed and he hugged her, “Why’s everyone tied up?” She asked. “They are working for Val.” He told her and she shook her head wanting to tell him that everything they’re saying is true but John gets to that first, “Come on Bucky, you know me.” Y/N turns to her friend, “You know him?” She asked and Bucky nodded, “Unfortunately.” Her eyes lit up, “Bucky, you didn’t tell me you had other hot friends.” “He’s not exactly my friend-What? Are you kidding me?” He hadn’t realized at first that she called John hot but when he did he wasn’t happy.

“What?” She asked, oblivious. “First it was Steve and now him? Do you know what he’s done?” Bucky asked and she sighed, “Yes and frankly Bucky all of us have done terrible things.” She pointed out. John’s smirk dropped as he realized that she also had a thing for Steve, maybe it was just the suit. Mel called Bucky and confirmed what they were saying was true, “Help me untie them.” He told Y/N. She smirked as she went to Walker, “I don’t know, I kinda like you tied up, Walker.” She said and he smirked as she untied him. 

“So you liked Steve as well?” John asked her as they sat in the back of the truck. “Yeah we had a thing.” She said it, like it was nothing. “So it’s just the suit?” He motioned towards what he was wearing. “If you think I’m not attracted to your fuckable face then sure it’s the suit.” She smirked at him. “You think my face is fuckable?” He asked and before she could reply Ava changed the subject, “So what cool weapons does everyone have?” 

“Oh so now you’re nice?” Yelena asked John. Century just beat their asses and Yelena had no shame. “Is it my turn?” He asked. “No, you know you’re a piece of shit and so does your family.” Y/N’s jaw dropped, that was crazy. Yelena turned to Y/N, “And you find him attractive. You're so hot and yet you’re after him.” Y/N looks down, “Yeah she’s always been like that.” Bucky mumbled and Y/N glared at him. “Look Yelena, we’ve all got problems and we’ve all done terrible things. But if we all work together, maybe we can take him down.” Y/N said before walking away. Bucky watched as she walked down the road and John followed her. 

“Yelena.” Y/N yelled as she walked towards the void. She sighed and looked at John before kissing him. He was shocked at first but kissed her back. She pulled away from the kiss and ran towards Yelena. They looked at each other and nodded as they walked into the void, everyone yelling their names. Y/N looked around as she realized where she was, “Yelena.” She yelled trying to find her and ignore the memory that was playing out. It was her and she was fighting someone that was just as good as compact as she was.

She remembered it being really hard to get the person where they were. She was on top choking them at first, watching them gasp for breath. She watched herself get tackled by another person and she had a sword to her throat, she stared up at the person, No fear in her eyes. Y/N had tears in her eyes as she watched the scene play out over and over again. She snapped the person’s neck and watched them fall as the other person screamed their name. Y/N was sobbing at this point, wanting it to end. “Yelena.” She yelled, hoping she would hear. “Bob! Stop this!!” She cried as the scene played over and over. Tears streamed down her face as she cried for it to stop.

The look on her face as she killed the person was tattooed in her memory, “No!” She screamed and fell to the ground, arms wrapped around her. “It’s okay. I’m here.” John whispered as she sobbed, “Make it stop!” She cried. He watched the scene play out, “Bob!” He yelled. She shook her head, “We need to get out of here.” She said and they stood up. She closed her eyes as she tried to ignore the scene playing out again and again. Y/N screamed as they fell into a different scene, this one was John’s. He was sitting on his phone, looking at an article that was shitting on him.

His baby next to him tried to get his attention but he was too focused on the article. “Are you watching him?” His ex wife came in the room, “Yeah sure.” He said, not looking up from the phone. Y/N watched as his ex got mad for not watching his child. “If you don’t like the way I do it, you do it yourself.” He yelled at her and walked out of the room. Y/N looked over at John who wasn’t even looking at the scene, “She took him away from me.” He mumbled. “I’m sorry.” She whispered. “Bob, this isn’t funny anymore!” He yelled. Y/N looked around and the scene changed, all of them were there with Bob. “Thank fuck.” Y/N sighed. “Bob, how do we get out of here?” She asked.

“It kinda just changes, this is the nicest one yet.” He said. “Show us the worst one.” They made their way through different rooms and memories until they stopped at one that looked like a lab. “Were you tested on in here?” Y/N asked as it looked like Bob was on the table. “I’ve been here before.” Yelena pointed out. Bob was being tested on here except that wasn’t Bob at the table, it was the void. “You guys won’t get out here. You’ll never be heroes, you can’t even save yourselves.”

Things in the room started flying and moving towards them, John grabbed Y/N before they got pushed against something and he got stabbed in the shoulder. She gasped, “Are you okay?” “Yeah.” He groaned, his arms were wrapped around her. She watched as Bob walked up to the void, “Bob!” Yelena yelled as he started beating up his alternate personality. “That’s what it wants!” Y/N tried but he was slowly turning into darkness. Once everyone managed to get free they all ran and grabbed him, “It’s not worth it.” She said to him. When they all ended up falling backwards, they were back in the real world. John helped Y/N up and they saw Val. “What should we do with her?” Y/N asked. “Turn her in.” Bucky said as they walked towards her. 

“Welcome the new Avengers!” Val announced to the press, all of them looking around in shock. She was smart, a little too smart. Bob cheered for them making Y/N laugh and lean into John who put his arm around her. She smiles up at him and leans up to kiss him, The crowd cheered even harder. She pulled away, “So Walker, you look damn good in that suit, can I see you out of it?” “Are you kidding me?”

[lovecandyxx]

Worst! Logan Howlett x Reader

Wanna try out my fuzzy pink handcuffs?˚₊· ͟͟͞͞➳❥

A/N: Rewatched deadpool & wolverine.. Now I feel motivated to write for (worst) Logan (he’s a baby and my fav next to old man Lo) Went to the short n’ sweet tour too recently so this idea popped up! I KNOW I OFFERED TO WRITE A CAGE FIGHTER LO X READER TOO, DW IT'LL COME!!! This is really for my X-Men and Sabrina loving babes, is that really such a weird mix of fanbases? ALSO I am NOT American I have based my info abt the MSG thru tiktok ..ANYWAY ENJOY LUVVIES!!

Short summary: U have an extra ticket for a Sabrina carpenter concert and u wanna go w Logan!!! That's basically it :p

There's not rlly any warnings, pretty fluffy with light sexual tension

divider cr: @bernardsbendystraws

“Fuck no.” is the only anwser Logan gave you for this request, you we’re currently hanging out at Wade’s apartment with Wade, Vanessa and no other than Logan himself. Blind al wasn’t anywhere to be seen. According to Wade she was getting her old ***** popped, or something traumatic along the lines of that!

..Anyway, You had asked Logan to tag along with you for the short n’ sweet tour in New York to which he of course denied harshly.

“Come on Lo! It’ll be sooo much fun I promise..” you tugged at Logan’s sleeve only for him to pull his arm away again. “Why won’t you go? Concerts are awesome!” you whined again huffing as you plopped your back against the couch.

In response he took a sip of his beer, “Because, that concert is for pop loving teenage girls bub. Not my type of shit.” he gruffly said.

“Come on Logan, it’ll be fun for you two to go together” Vanessa spoke up, “I would’ve gone with her but you guys know I can’t go now, it will be a waste of the extra ticket!”

You and Vanessa we’re actually supposed to go together at first, but Wade was unknowing of this and booked them both a ‘romantic’ get away PRECISELY on the date of the concert. Fucker.

So here you were, bugging him and praying Logan would say yes to your request. "I'll pay for all of your beer.. all night. Will you go with me now?" You stared at Logan with puppy eyes awaiting his answer.

He sighed heavily and chugged his whole beer down in one go, "Jesus.. fuck! You never give up now do you woman? Fine, I'll go." He groaned out furrowing his brows with a scowl.

Your eyes lit up and you gave his broad arm a tight hug, "You're the best Lo! Thank youuu, it'll be so much fun I promise!!" He only rolled his eyes muttering a 'yeah yeah' in annoyed response as you and Vanessa just gave each other a big thumbs up.

"Promise to film it for me when Wolvie here actually starts enjoying himself AND dances to espresso, will you pumkin?" Wade playfully said, You just giggled and brushed him off "For sure.." There's absolutely no way you'd ever catch Logan dancing to espresso, really.

⌦ .｡.:♡⌦ .｡.:♡⌦ .｡.:♡⌦ .｡.:♡⌦ .｡.:♡⌦ .｡.:♡⌦ .｡.:*♡

As the concert date finally came I woke up all excited, I already had my outfit all planned out and laid out perfectly. It was really just the typical high heels with sparkles outfit, just a few kisses on my dress and the signature heart cut out too!

A few hours pass and I call up Logan. The plan we made was that I got to wade's place, to first off help him with his outfit, and then just drive to the madison square garden together.

I knocked on the door and a groggy still halve asleep Logan opened the door, I pushed past him and walked directly to the spare room where he was staying. "Good morning to you too sunshine, did you just wake up from another nap? it's what, almost 4 PM already?" I jokingly called out. He only muttered something about me being annoying in return and closed his door after entering his room too.

He raised an eyebrow as he finally noticed my sparkly outfit, "What the fuck are you wearing? It's like you're trying to blind me with your light.." I rolled my eyes and opened his closet door, "Very funny," I responded sarcastically.

After a few minutes of searching in his closet I groaned out frustrated. "God! I don't know why I assumed you'd have anything sparkly or with heart prints in your closet.."

He sat down on his bed with a soft thud, "Yeah, that's pretty stupid." He remarked. I only groaned again in response and then my eyes lit up with an idea, "Maybe Wade's got something sparkly.. Oh he's definitely got something pink!" I exclaimed happily.

To which Logan only scoffed, "Listen sweetheart, you should be happy enough I'm even going to this girly concert with you. I won't also become a walking disco ball." He crossed his arms in protest.

I turned around to face him with furrowed brows that quickly turned into a fake sad pout. "What about just a pink T shirt?"

⌦ .｡.:*♡⌦ .｡.:*♡⌦ .｡.:*♡⌦ .｡.:*♡⌦ .｡.:*♡⌦ .｡.:*♡⌦ .｡.:*♡

No matter how hard he tried to deny it, by just looking at those soft plump lips of yours pouting like sad puppy.. He folded immediately. Logan will probably never dare to admit it but really, he has the biggest soft spot for you.

The music of this concert was horrible, that's a fact for Logan. But going with you? Getting to spend more time with you that you practically begged for? How could he deny after he almost saw you basically cry to go together??

You could've just asked one of your other girl friends, but you decided to go with Logan, which you tried to make it seem 'natural' since you and Logan we're close friends but for Logan it felt like he was made your first option.. For you it was more than obvious 'why' cause you've been wanting to fuck this big jerk for forever now!

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And that's exactly how Logan ended up in a bright pink sequined T-shirt, where you had cut out a heart off precisely in the middle. You'd pay Wade back for the damage on his T shirt.. Really.

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As we we're standing in the line of the concert we had like one and a halve hour to go.. And we we're pretty close to the entrance too! you gazed around and looked at everyone's cute kisses make up and got this fun idea..

"Hey Lo..

Kiss me."

you said bluntly as you stared up at him with wide pleading eyes, in a way to deceive him of other motives.

The poor guy almost choked on air, with both brows raised he questioned "What?"

"Yeah I mean like, put on some of my red lipstick and kiss my cheek! I want those cute kisses too!! And I'll put a few in your neck or something.." you mumbled the last part as you went to grab the red lipstick out of your purse, along with baby wipes. "And don't worry, you can clean your lips after." You said with rolling eyes.

"Wait I'll do you first, bend down a bit.." Since Logan was lots taller than you it was hard to actually reach his neck.

In a bit of a flustered state Logan just stared at you with confused eyes, "You're serious about this?" He asked in disbelief. "Duh!" You responded in excitement.

He let out a deep chuckle while shaking his head, "Only because it's you." He said as he leaned down.

I bit back a grin as he spoke those words but quickly applied my lipstick and put my hand on the back of his neck, pulling him a bit closer.

As his body was so close to mine the pure smell of whiskey and tobacco hit me, god it was like drugs to be this close to him. I held onto the nape of his neck and gently placed a few kisses from down to his collarbone up toward his jaw.

And I fucking swear I could've heard him groan softly.

Now it was Logan's turn to basically give me lipstick hickey's, he was still bent down a bit and he delicately grabbed my face with one hand, squeezing my cheeks slightly and turned it to the side so he had easy acces to my neck.

As his lips touched my neck I also had to bite down a moan honestly.

Soon enough we we're both covered in kisses, "Oh my god Lo, this it too cute! Let me take a picture!!" You quickly grabbed your cellphone out of your bag and Logan just smirked at your excitement, his only current thoughts we're truly just one: You are really fucking adorable and two: How adorable would you look under him?

You turned the camera to both of you and before you snapped the picture you had placed your lips on his cheek and quickly took it. Logan's surprised face was really easy to notice on the picture, which made you laugh real hard.

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Finally the doors had opened and you told Logan to not let go of your hand since some of these fans will go absolutely crazy. "After we're past the security we can run.." "Run?" He questioned, you only smiled awkwardly in response. "You'll see."

And as I had expected, once we we're past security everyone started running. To which I, of course joined in to.. I truly wish I could've filmed Logan's face as soon as I started sprinting with his hand still interlocked with mine, to die for.

As we reached the hall I noticed how there was still a spot open on the barricade side, "OH MY GOD LOGAN RUN." I yelled out as I increased my pace a bit and grasped onto the barricade.

I slowly turned to Logan with pure disbelief splayed on my face. "We got fucking barricade." I said in the most serious tone. He only laughed out of breath, "Yeah and you almost broke my neck getting it." I giggled and muttered out an embarrassed 'sorry'.

We chatted and giggled for a bit before the opener, Rachel Chinouriri came on. She was absolutely amazing and to my surprise Logan didn't think she was all that bad too!

As she got off stage I looked up at Logan, "She was so good right?!" He nodded, "Sure, but was that the concert? Was that the Carpenti girl you've been going on about?" I only laughed in response. "Sometimes you're so clueless Logan.. And it's CarpenTER oh my lord!"

Me and Logan laughed a bit more until a crazy idea popped up in your head. "Oh my god Logan okay. So like when Sabrina performs she usually does this position during one of her songs, Crazy idea but we should totally recreate it." I said it with a flirty undertone, being a halve truthful joke.

He just raised one eyebrow at me, confused. "What type of position?" I smirked up at him, "You'll see, I'll tell you right before she does it."

He nodded skeptically, not sure what to expect.

Because the standing room was so small Logan had decided to move behind me, since he could easily look over me and just cage me in between his arms holding onto the barricade. He also muttered something about 'this dress is too damn short' to which I responded 'short n sweet' with a playful wink and loud laughter.

I slowly reached down for his hands on the barricade and wrapped my hands around his two index fingers, holding on tightly.

And then the lights died down.

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Logan's facial expressions during bed chem we're to most laughable ones, a few songs later and after a bit Sabrina went off stage and quickly came back holding pink handcuffs to which I obviously had prayed to get.

Logan just asked 'why does she have handcuffs?' and I giggled "Be patient Lo! You'll see"

She looked around the crowd a bit, and guess fucking what- Her eyes landed on you. "Hello there gorgeous.." She exclaimed through the microphone.

"Oh my god I'm gonna fucking faint.. LOGAN HOLD ME!" I yelled out dramatically while giggling.

After the whole Juno intro and with her passing me the fuzzy pink handcuffs I nudged Logan gently while yelling out loudly, "In this song she'll do the position! watch it carefully!!" I had a big grin on my face while screaming along at this point too.

'You make me wanna make you fall in love..'

'Oh, late at night I'm thinkin' 'bout you, ah ah ah ah'

'Wanna try out some freaky positions?'

"Here it comes!!"

…

'Have you ever tried this one?'

I stared at her intently to see what position see was doing and I yelled out loudly as she went down on her knees and pretended to give her microphone a blowjob.

"OH MY FUCKING GOOOOD!!" and if I could've seen Logan's face in that moment I bet I would've been rolling on the floor laughing for real.

For the rest of this concert Logan just had this surprised look on his face and it seemed as if he had to hide his sly smile.

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As the concert ended I almost cried happy tears "God Logan that was absolutely amazing!! Did you have fun?" I happily yelled out as we walked out of the concert hall arms interlinked with one another. "Lots." He said sarcastically but he was smiling gently.

"Oh I know you did you dick!" I giggled as we walked back to my car.

I sat in the drivers seat and Logan in the passengers, we chatted just a bit more and we finally reached wade's apartment. I walked up with Logan to tell him goodbye at the door before leaving to my own house.

"I had so much fun today Lo, thanks again for coming with me.." I hugged him tightly and didn't quite let go, I just loosely had my arms wrapped around his shoulders as I looked up at him. "It's fine.." He hesitated for a bit but looked down at me now, "So about that position you wanted to recreate?" he smirked.

"Oh my god Logan! You freak!" I giggled out as I playfully hit him biting my lip. "Wade's not home you know.." He said in a deep teasing tone.

I looked away from him and thought about it for a second.. To which I quickly stepped into the apartment gazing at his eyes again in a sultry way this time, "I offered it anyway." I winked as I said that and rushed to his bedroom.

A/N: Not proof read since it's 2:30 AM, god what do I have with finishing my stories at 2??? I was just so into it I didn't wanna SLEEEPPP!!!! Hope you had fun readinggg I actually loved this random idea <3

DOES ANYONE FEEL LIKE A PART 2??

MUCH LOVE, CANDYYY ੈ♡˳

Edit: i’ve read it now and the only thing wrong was a few grammar mistakes (IM NOT AN NATIVE ENGLISH SPEAKER ALRIGHT..) and the title.. forgot to put in what variant for logan it was but honestly i think any would fit alright..?? not sure..

[theunholyvirginemilyprentiss]

In the case of Canon vs. Jemily, I submit to the court:

A GAY JEMILY ESSAY WITH SUPPORTING GIFs BECAUSE I’M UNHINGED —>

Holy SHIT, I did not realise just how SUS early seasons Jemily were?!? When I first watched the show in 2015 I was 12. I didn’t know I was gay yet and wasn’t watching the show through that lens. Rewatching now, the way JJ behaves around Emily and Will and the way she talks about homosexuality is INSANE, especially in episodes 3x16 and 3x17. Take a seat, I’mma break it down.

Will and JJ’s chemistry was pretty… flat. JJ barely seemed interested. Will himself said JJ had “one foot out the door of this relationship.”

Their interactions are SO uncomfortable. JJ refuses to tell her team about their relationship, and I noticed that when they meet again on the case in 3x16, JJ makes a point to look at Emily when she clarifies that their relationship is purely ‘professional.’

I mean come on, Emily seems to find Will more appealing than JJ:

JJ doesn’t even want him to touch her, it actually pisses her off even though, as Will points out, they’re at the crime scene of his murdered friend and he obviously isn’t going to use this moment to make a move.

This case is about gay victims, and JJ seems to relate to it so strongly. What really made me go ‘damn,’ is that right after JJ admits that she wants to break up with Will:

IMMEDIATELY after this conversation, JJ goes inside to talk to Hotch suddenly having an epiphany about the case, SPECIFICALLY how the victims felt. She says to Hotch, while on the verge of tears:

JJ: You said in the profile the UnSub was targeting gay males, possibly due to his struggles with his own sexuality, right?

HOTCH: Right.

JJ: Well, what if the reason Luvet let his guard down is because he could finally… be who he is? No judgements, no fear. *She zones out for a few seconds.* What if the UnSub is seeing a freedom in his victims that… he wishes he had himself?

COME ON. That is an INSANE epiphany to have 2 minutes after practically breaking up with your boyfriend.

But wait, I’m not done. Because we’ve all seen that GIF set a hundred times at the end of this episode where Emily says to JJ “you should go for him,” and then Emily IMMEDIATELY regrets it and walks off:

It’s almost like JJ needed Emily’s permission to be with Will. Like she was subconsciously holding out for Emily and her saying ‘you should go for him’ cemented in her head that her and Emily couldn’t happen. Working a case where the UnSub and the victims were being punished for being gay, it really feels like JJ eventually went with Will because she felt like she was supposed to, not because she was in love with him.

The excuse she gave to Will for why she didn’t want to reveal their relationship felt so weak as well, that ‘if people know then it becomes too real and people get hurt.’ Like, miss girl, that excuse is weaker than a nun’s piss, come on now.

In 3x17 one of the first scenes is in JJ’s office. She has chosen Emily to confide in about a stalking case, coming to her before anyone else on the team—weird, since Emily has only been on the team for a year, and Morgan literally specialises in obsessional crimes. Those two are together the whole episode, but it is the cliffhanger that was crazy.

The episode ends with Emily of course in JJ’s office, making sure she’s okay. JJ watches Emily leave her office sullenly, and then retreives a doctor’s note from her desk once she’s gone. She calls Will, and reveals she’s pregnant. And she does not seem all that happy about it. It gives the impression of this being the final nail in the coffin—she’s stuck in this relationship now, and she knows it. Emily has walked away, and she’s left with Will. I had to cut out a 10 second long longing stare from the GIF below because the file size was too big 💀

Upon rewatching, it really feels like JJ got cornered into this relationship with Will. Rewatch those two episodes and you’ll see what I mean. It’s just… so weird.

The defence rests.

[fafodill]

Do you think Sneep is artistic? What form of media do you think he favors?

I'd argue that creating spells and experimenting with potion is totally an art form. He possesses the yearning to create. Similarly to painting for example, it requires discipline, patience, skills and imagination.

And Severus is someone who appreciates his solitude so in the event of him surviving the war and starting a new hobby (which would mean he's not just mopping somewhere) I'm gonna go ahead and again say : taxidermy. Be it bugs, weird magical creatures he'd put in jars and everything.

Because (to me) this is an art form AND there's something academical to it. Also it's quite precise, requires patience, it's a bit eerie... We know he's got so many jars of creepy stuff in his office, so as he experiments with specific potion ingredients, I could see him be like 'uhm, i'd like to keep a specimen of that one'.

Something about him being a collector of creepiness suits him I think.

I'm having a harder time seeing him paint or draw, but if he did, it would be fucking creepy and gory shit. And I'd love that going for him.

Or... write poetry.

[clickityweasel]

cheapskate bleach tutorial

Sticking it under a readmore but this is how i make my shirts etc for like a fiver's worth of materials. I am far from being an expert btw im just playing with chemicals. also probably do this in a ventilated area or something

You will need:

Bleach (I use thick toilet bleach it's like 80p)

The thing you want to bleach onto (In this case, a tote bag for a friend. usually i thrift old black shirts.) You should do a patch test before any real bleaching -- dab a tiny bit on the inside of a hem somewhere before you commit. I don't show that below because i forgot to do it but you should. You should ALSO iron the thing before you bleach it. So it's flat. Do as I say not as I do etc.

Something to put inside / between your garment and the table (Asda brand weetabix box babyyy)

Paintbrush (Mine is from a multipack from Poundland. I also accidentally left it in bleach last time and it kind of dissolved so I had to cut off the most egregious of the stray bristles.)

Chalk (For snacking) (I'm joking please don't eat the chalk) (I only have big pavement chalk, again, from Poundland, but you can get a good point with a craft knife)

Step one: move the cat

Step two: insert cereal box into / behind the thing you are bleaching.

Step three: chalk on your design. this is the logo of a wine brand i have never tried but i like the snail. It can be super rough or very precise, whichever helps you know where to put your lines.

As you can tell it's easy to move stuff and redo it by just smudging the chalk away, or, worst case scenario, giving it a wash. Though that sucks if you're impatient like me bc you do NOT want to bleach this while it's wet. Once you're happy with your design, smack it around a bunch to take off most of the chalk, so you wind up with a vague outline. I didn't get a pic of this stage but here's what the iasip one looked like:

Step four: Acquire your bleach and put it in the special bleach jar your hosuemates labelled so you would stop drinking normal water out of it. Accept that Nyx hates you for not letting her drink it.

Step five: Go for it man. The bleach is kinda goopy so don't expect it to come out like paint, but it does mean that you can control the line crispness and width quite easily depending on how hard you press the brush down. I find it really helps for stuff like serif fonts.

You can dilute your bleach with water, which can help it get into all the little crevices esp if your fabric is a little bumpy, but do another small patch test before committing to anything on the main piece, because some fabrics absolutely suck up water and your lovely crispy lines will blow out like an old tattoo. don't do it. Unless you want that look, in which case get silly with it

The other weird thing abt it is obviously that you can't see what you painted right away, it takes a couple seconds to show up, so it's a pretty slow process. The fabric will first go darker where you painted, then lighten from orange to a pale yellow over about 30 seconds. DON'T go "this bleach aint shit" and paint over it to make it lighten faster -- overbleaching it can weaken the fabric and make it tear.

Tragic.

Here are some progress shots of the snail! When you're finished, you should wait for it to develop properly, but it depends how light you want it to be. I let the lines sit for a while before doing the details, and then washed it a bit prematurely so they'll stay a little darker. For nice pale yellow you want to wait around an hour.

Step six: drown her

Nice cold water, wash out all the remaining bleach and chalk. I chucked it in the wash for ten minutes because it's a weird shape and size to wash in the sink and I'm a lazy bastard. but handwashing works just as well.

Step seven: revel in your new bootleg merch. You made that. You did that. thrive. go forth and make weird shit.

[becauseicantthinkwritings]

This, is my Solemn Vow

Part 17 of my Accidentally on Purpose Series!

Billy Russo x Female Reader

Warnings: I don't want to spoil anything, but this part contains similar themes as most other parts of this series, including discussions that may be deemed as dark. Be warned.

It was looming over your head, twisting your insides into knots, and you were pretending that everything was okay.

When you wake up in the morning, he asks you to get dressed, taking you down to the marina, and guiding you onto a barge styled boat, with a restaurant inside.

You have breakfast beside him for the few hours it takes to sail around Sentosa island, wearing a loose yellow sundress, while he wears an olive green t-shirt tucked into black jeans.

You looked like a lemon-lime combo, and you can’t help saying this to him at some point throughout your journey, laughing with him as though everything was alright.

It wasn’t.

You were both pretending and you knew it. Clinging to the role of husband and wife because you had no idea what would happen after.

It was fucking weird.

You would hold his hand, and tuck yourself into the space beside him, but you resisted kissing him, because you were confused and this was confusing and you might tear your hair out if you didn’t clear the air soon. 

It was familiar to you… but also not. 

You could at least admit to yourself that there was an easy friendship here, if nothing else, you liked sitting with him, and listening to him speak, and engaging him in light conversation about tides and wind resistance.

Something twists sharply in your chest at the thought of being only friends with him.

When you get back to your hotel room, you curl your hands into fists, anxious and determined to have it out before you find yourselves stuck in this strange purgatory for much longer.

You strike a match, lighting one of the scented candles you’d gotten in your time here, letting the aroma of sage and Palo Santo wood calm you. 

He’s in your bedroom taking a call, you can hear the calm cadence of his voice as you find the stupid divorce papers, pulling them out of their hiding place in your luggage.

You feel like you’re ambushing him, when you drop it onto the nearby marble countertop, bracing your arms on the sturdy surface and willing yourself to have the strength to say what you have to say.

You hear him step out of the room, his muffled footsteps as he approaches, and then slows down when he notices you.

You gulp, looking up at him, his face is calm, but it’s his eyes that hold all of his heartbreak.

“It’s time for that talk.” You whisper ominously.

He sucks in a shaky breath, approaching, giving you a sharp nod.

“I’ll start simple- I remember that night we got married.”

You watch him nod in understanding.

“I had the rings with me… hoping for a chance to work them in. You stopping to look at the veil was my perfect opportunity.”

“If I hadn’t stopped, did you have a backup plan?”

He glances down, nodding.

“I would have made you sign the papers and fabricated the witnesses.”

You shake your head.

“If I had been a little bit more sober-”

“-but you weren’t. You were tipsy enough to go along with me, and sober enough to consent. I kept you right on that precipice the entire night. I was standing on that balcony, counting the shots you were taking, making sure that you didn’t have more than you could handle. I wanted you impressionable, not unconscious.” 

You can’t fight the horror that his words draw out of you.

“You know how that makes me feel, right? Like I’m just some pawn in your twisted web.”

He swallows, nodding, he doesn’t meet your eyes.

“I know. I just don’t want to hide from you anymore.”

“Did you,” You struggle to ask the words, “Did you have any hand in Dominic breaking up with me?”

The corner of his mouth lifts, he shakes his head.

“I knew he would fuck up eventually. I wanted to kill him so many times, but I needed you to see him for the piece of shit he was.”

“Oh.”

You swallow, trying to get yourself together before you ask your next question.

“What if I didn’t go along with your trap? Would you have killed me?”

He glances up in shock at your question. You give him an apologetic smile, unable to phrase the question in a better way at the moment.

“I could never bear the thought of ever hurting you,” He whispers, approaching till he’s right in front of you. He raises a hand to cup your cheek, “However bad of a person you think I am, I need you to know that no matter what happens between us, I will always put your safety first. I’ve watched you from afar for years, I knew what kind of person you were before I’d ever slipped that ring onto your finger. I hoped that I could give you exactly what you needed if I had the chance.”

You swallow, eyelids fluttering at the soothing feeling of his hands on your face.

“If we got divorced. Would you keep stalking me?”

He holds your gaze, your heart hammering as he answers without hesitation.

“Yes.”

Well, that wasn’t terrifying at all.

“You-” You huff in exasperation, “Why didn’t you just ask me out on a date like a normal person?”

He chuckles.

“I keep trying to tell you- I’m not normal.”

You groan, laughing at his words in the next moment.

“Okay, I wish I had a clear answer, maybe I’m like a dog that isn��t socially adjusted so I do weird shit and hope I don’t get caught. I’ve never been like this before either, I’m usually more… subtle when I approach women. But there’s something about you, something that made me terrified of your rejection.”

His thumbs dance thoughtfully on your cheeks as he looks away, deep in his own head.

“And the more I got to know you, the more I saw you, the real you hiding under all those layers of anxiety and insecurity, I realised that we were more alike than expected.”

You gulp, your dark tryst in the castle coming to mind.

He looks back at you, those dark eyes of his trying to see into your mind.

“Can you honestly say, without a doubt, that you hated seeing how obsessed I was? Would you really rather watch me pretend to be less?”

“That’s not fair,” You argue, “You didn’t give me a choice.”

“I know,” He says firmly, “And don’t you love that?”

You gulp, raising your hands, you push him away, angry at the way he makes you feel with such a dangerous question.

“You’re so-” You were going to say ‘insane,’ but hadn’t he been admitting that the entire time?

You stop, your eyes drawing to the manilla envelope, the gears turning in your head at a too slow rate for you to comprehend.

“Tell me what you’re thinking,” He begs.

It takes you a moment to get the words out.

“I’m… scared that I’ll regret my decision.”

Billy releases a slow breath, and when you turn your head to look at him, his eyebrows are drawn together, the faintest hint of a wrinkle in the space between. His eyes take on a glassy appearance as they fill with unshed tears.

“I’m sorry.” He finally whispers, and you can almost feel the defeat in the tone of his voice.

You glance away, unable to meet his eyes, there’s a strange feeling inside of you, a hurt you can feel coming but it’s not quite there yet.

“For what, exactly?”

“For… loving you the way I do.”

You try not to let your words choke you, though they beg for your decimation. You didn’t know heartache could come on so gradually.

“And what way is that?” You pry.

He’s quiet for a long time, and you glance up at him, seeing the way his words stick in his throat, the same way yours do, the way sweet words have the bitterest taste.

“Tell me.” You demand.

“Please.” You beg.

He still doesn’t meet your eyes.

“I’d let you ruin me, destroy every piece of me,” A slow breath, “If I could just stay with you a second more. A moth and a flame, Icarus and the sun. I don’t want to exist without you.”

Your mind reels with the implication that he thinks you’re going to be his destruction.

It’s a calm sort of anger, your hands shaking imperceptibly, your heart trembling in the very same way.

“Fuck you, Billy Russo.” 

His glassy eyes meet yours, dark pools of love and despair. He doesn’t look away, doesn’t shy from your anger, so ready to accept it, prepared for your rejection.

The way everyone in his life had abandoned him before.

“I didn’t choose this,” You hiss, stepping into his personal space, “I definitely didn’t ask for it. You took any agency I had and made it your own. You made me your own.”

He closes his eyes, it cracks your heart into pieces to watch tears stream down his face.

You reach up swiftly, locking your fingers behind his neck, bringing your face right up to his.

After a moment, you bring your thumbs up to wipe at the tears on the apple of his cheeks.

“You’re not Icarus, Billy, and I am not the sun.” You finally breathe to him.

He shakes his head, disagreeing with you silently.

“It’s true,” You urge, pressing your forehead to his, “You’re not falling.”

And with one final kiss to his lips, you reach over, grabbing the little pile of divorce papers, and letting the edge of it touch the flickering candle.

You hear his choked breath, and you smile, angling the papers so that the fire eats the material faster.

“Till death do us part.” You mumble to yourself, the finality of your decision sinking in, the immediate relief of it comes as fast as the fire does.

One moment he’s letting you hold him, and the next moment he reaches for the papers, pulling them from your hands and dropping them on the counter to continue burning. 

You open your mouth to protest, the papers are going to scorch the marble if they’re not moved, but Billy steals your focus, turning your face forcefully to pull you into a kiss.

You make a sound of surprise, eagerly responding to him, understanding how badly he needs to be reassured right now.

Your kisses are bruising, so forceful that they borderline on pain, you grip his shoulders, humming happily as he pulls you even closer together.  Your brain glitters like shattered glass, embracing sunlight.

“I love you,” He says into your mouth, “I love you. I love you. I love you.”

You can’t help your giggle.

“I love you too, Billy Russo.”

He groans, his hands roam your body, tugging your dress up on his way to squeeze your ass. His mouth is unrelenting, kissing over your neck, down to your clavicle. The pleasure you feel is alive under your skin, begging for more.

“My wife.” He hums in between kisses, “My perfect wife.”

You feel like you’re being mauled, and you can do nothing but take it, smoke fills your nose, and you turn your head to see the divorce papers almost halfway on fire.

You want to warn him about the fire alarm, but at the same time he turns you, pinning your front to the counter, tugging forcefully at the strap of your dress until you hear the seams rip. You only have a second to gasp before he bites down gently on your shoulder.

Pleasure explodes behind your eyes, you shudder as his hands find their way under your dress, palming over your panties, before he slips his warm hands under them.

“I need to feel you.” he breathes into your ear, the heat of his words setting your insides on fire and you nod, your body responding to every part of him.

His fingers find your clit easily, pressing down, he hums in approval when he finds you wet and swollen.

You make an embarrassing squeaking sound, his tongue gently tracing its way over your shoulder, and up your neck a little till his lips meet your ear.

“You're so wet, baby.” He praises easily, “Did hearing how obsessed I am for you get you like this?”

“Yes,” you groan, “Yes. Yes. Yes. Yes.”

He chuckles, palming your breast over your dress, while his fingers swirl purposefully over your clit, making your hips move in an attempt to grind on his hand.

“There’s no going back now, you know that right? I’m not letting you leave again. You’re mine. Forever.”

You nod frantically, understanding the consequences of setting the divorce papers on fire, glancing at them, watching the flame consume your only chance at escaping him.

“You’re mine now too.” You breathe.

He swears, pulling his hands away and spinning you once more to face him. His mouth finds yours just as he grips your hips firmly and seats you on the countertop. 

The marble is fucking cold against the back of your thighs, but you can’t help sinking your fingers into his hair and rubbing your tongue against his messily as you hear the clink of his belt being undone.

You smile into the kiss, thinking that he’s so feverishly eager for you and of course, you feel the exact same, reaching down to wrap your fingers around his magnificent cock, his answering groan into your mouth as you stroke him firmly, sending ripples of delight through you.

He huffs, pulling you to the edge of the countertop before tugging your panties to the side. You want this so badly that you feel the ache between your thighs worsen, a thrumming in your center that begs for relief. 

His eyes meet yours when you align the head of his cock to your entrance, searching your eyes for reassurance as he presses in.

“Deep breaths baby.” He guides, watching as your eyes roll shut, nodding your head. He’s big, you almost forgot how big, now astutely obvious as his cock demands you yield for him.

You try to relax as best as possible, feeling him sink in further, making you feel so full.

You whine his name, and he leans in to press a kiss to your mouth, unintentionally sinking himself deeper into you.

Your thighs tremble, wrapping around his hips, you bring your arms over his shoulders so you can bury your face in his neck.

“Doing so good,” He praises, “My perfect little wife.”

You make a keening sound, struggling not to clench around him prematurely, gripping the back of his neck, breathing him in as he fully fits himself into you.

You’re so wet, but it’s been a month without him and it stings in the deepest parts of you, brings about an ache that hurts and feels so undeniably good all at the same time.

He takes a moment, you feel him kiss the top of your head, the gentleness of the act unintentionally making you clench around him.

His next groan has an unhinged manner to it, drawing back subtly to press into you again.

Fuck, it feels immeasurably good, you baffle at the willpower he has to take it slow for your sake.

You can tell he’s trying hard to rein himself in. The veins on his neck poking out from beneath his skin, his breaths are all shuddery against your hair.

You want him insane with desire, tipping your head back, you look up at him before you whisper in your sweetest voice.

“Please, husband, I need you so bad.”

His breath catches in his throat, and you watch as all the self-control bleeds from his eyes.

He makes a low sound, one hand tightening on your hips, the other reaching up to tangle in your hair.

“I was trying to be nice, wife. But you don’t want nice, do you?”

You shake your head rapidly.

He snaps his hips forward, your mouth dropping open at just how forceful his movements are.

He does it again, and you can’t help the little sound of pleasure that leaves you, his cock, stretching you open in a painfully perfect way.

His hand tightens in your hair, tugging so that your head is tipped back while he keeps snapping his hips.

“Do you want me?” He asks, his words warm against your lips.

“Mmm, I do.” You hum in the affirmative.

He grunts.

“Say it.”

“I- ah- I want you.”

His nose brushes yours, “Fuck. Fuck.” he swears.

There’s nothing you can focus on except how primal this feels, to be taken like this, to freely give yourself to him, to feel each movement he makes and have your body respond with bliss. And then his actions grow more forceful, faster, your thighs tremble around his hips, your body shaking as the pleasure overwhelms you, pushing you right up to that edge before you can even comprehend the feeling.

He knows, you watch him grin as he realises how quickly you’re on that brink, body shaking, head swimming in hazy desire with each thrust he makes.

“Do it, sweetheart. Come all over your husband’s cock.”

Your body tightens, and with one final push of his hips, you hit your breaking point. 

An unintentional sound leaves you, your inner walls flutter around his cock as the shockwaves grow more intense, finally gripping him tightly, your eyes rolling back in your head as you lose control of your body. It feels like lightning, the way it electrifies each of your nerve endings, making you feel like there’s energy coming right out of you as you hit that peak.

Your fingers claw into his shirt, gripping for dear life as you come so hard you stop thinking. You hear him groan loudly, his cock fitted deep inside you as you explode around him, giving him exactly what he asked for. You squeeze him so tightly that you swear his length is imprinted into you, dropping your head into the crook of his neck as you come down.

You still shake in the aftermath, looking up at him, you give him a weak smile, holding him closely as you continue to tremble.

“Perfect.” He hums, leaning down to kiss you, and then he withdraws subtly to press into you again.

His pretense of control is all gone, you can tell by the wild look in his eye, and the sharp, uncontrolled movement of his hips. 

He’s so alluring in this moment, taking what he needs from you without apology, his hair askew from your hands, his body hot beneath all his clothes, your orgasm being drawn out by your perfect husband.

“I love you.” Are his last words before he buries his face in your hair and groans- his orgasm taking control of his movements, filling you with his cum.

You even feel his cock throb inside of you, your body so hypersensitive that you feel every little move he makes inside of you..

He laughs deliriously into your hair, and you find yourself smiling in turn.

“Fuck. That- was so fucking good, little wife.”

He studies you, strokes your hair, cups your face to tilt your head up so that he can keep kissing you passionately, moaning into the kiss like he’s still hungry for you, as if his spent cock isn’t already softening inside of you.

He waits, till you’re calm, till your body has stopped shaking, to withdraw himself.

You hum when you feel a touch of soreness, clenching when you can feel his cum, slipping out of you in that uncomfortably messy way you’ve grown to love.

“Does anything hurt?” He asks softly, bringing his mouth back to yours when you look away- glancing at the smoking pile of divorce papers.

“No,” You answer into his mouth because he gives you no other choice. He hums in delight, before scooping you up, walking you down the hallway towards your bed.

“I need to hold you.” He murmurs, as if you don’t already know, seating you on the bed as he undresses himself, kicking his pants away, and pulling his shirt off.

You wait patiently for his help, as he kneels in front of you, clad in only his boxers as he leans in, reaching around to unzip your dress.

You study his tattoo, as he tugs the torn dress down your torso, and you tilt your hips up to let him get it totally off.

You watch his eyes roam over your body, a pleased smile on his face. It takes him a few seconds to locate the ink on your hip.

He blinks, as if he can’t believe what he’s seeing, tilting his head, eyebrows draw together before he looks up at you in surprise.

“Is this real?” He questions, glancing down once more to trace his thumb along the edges.

It’s right at the front, over your hip joint, about the approximate size of your hand.

It’s the same snake that’s on his shoulder, except this time its fangs aren’t bared, its serpentine body is wrapped around the stem of a rose. 

You know what you wanted it to mean, that he owns you, in every dark possessive way he wanted. This was you, allowing yourself to be wrapped up in him, for better or for worse.

It was a sign, that you would always love him, no matter what.

“Snakes,” you whisper softly to him, too afraid to break the trance that he’s in, “shed their skins all the time. They are symbols of transformation and rebirth. Misunderstood, but deadly when underestimated.” You repeat the words he said to you as best as you could remember.

His eyes are filled with tears once more when he looks up at you, a shy smile graces your features as his dark eyes consume you.

His jaw tightens, as he rises, and goes from staring up to looking down.

Desire sparks once more in the deepest parts of you, his darkness is like an aphrodisiac, it makes you want to be very good for him.

“Get naked,” He hums, “Lie back on the bed.”

You tug the straps of your bra down frantically, and then your panties are tossed in his direction when you get them off.

When you settle, he presses his palms to the bed, crawling toward you, fingers gripping around your right ankle to bring it up to his face.

He kisses the inside of your ankle, beard scratching along your skin as he works his way up. His other hand finds your pussy, your mouth dropping open as he rubs his open palm messily over your cunt, his thumb swiping over your clit swiftly.

“Mine.” He finally whispers into your inner thigh, “You’re all mine.”

His words make you rut your hips into his messy palm.

He draws his palm away and you whine, breath stuttering when he brings his hand up to your face, hovering right above your nose.

“Taste us.” He says in a low tone that warns you not to question him. You huff, running your tongue along his palm, humming as you catch remnants of his cum and your arousal on his hand.

When you’re sure his palm is clean, you feel him drag his thumb over your lips, a deep concentration in his eyes, as though he’s trying to stop himself from doing something.

When his fingers go around your throat, cutting off your gasp with a squeeze, you finally begin to get a hint of what you’ve gotten yourself into.

“Tap me on the shoulder if it’s too much.” He murmurs with absolutely zero explanation, your eyes widening and he leans in, and you feel his hard cock pressing into you in the next moment.

You groan, the sound muffled by his hand on your throat, his cum from earlier making it so perfectly easy to slide right into you. 

You feel your body relaxing to accept him, the head of his cock touching your cervix in a way that makes you see stars, your breathing sharp and shallow while he grips your throat.

He begins with a rough pace, that only gets rougher as time goes on, grunting and moaning into your ear, whispering on shaky breaths every version of how good your cunt feels wrapped around his cock.

You wish you could respond to him, or even articulate a thought, but you can actually feel any semblance of thinking leave your head with each move of his body on yours.

Chest to chest, he gives you a delirious smile when he sees the tears of bliss slipping from your eyes, the grip on your throat eases, but doesn't relent.

“Were you hoping to see me react like this, little wife?” He leans in, licking at your tears, “Is this what you fucking wanted?”

You gasp, nodding violently. 

His skin slaps loudly against yours with how forceful his thrusts are, and you begin sobbing, begging him to never stop.

“Stop? No, sweetheart,” He withdraws from you, for only long enough to flip you over, tucking a pillow under your hips, leaning over you till you can feel his front pressed to your back.

“I'm not fucking stopping.” He whispers sweetly right before he enters you again.

Your moan is almost a shout, the way he feels so much bigger, and even more unrelenting in this position.

It doesn't take long before you're mewling out a warning that you're close to orgasm.

“Take every inch of my cock.” He grunts, speeding up the force of his thrusts until you feel like your body is about to supernova.

“I'm gonna keep you like this, nice and full of my cock until you beg me to stop.” He chuckles breathlessly over you, “Forever, little wife.”

Your eyes roll back in your head, your body stiffening as you cry out, before your orgasm slams into you, making you tremble violently as you come.

“That's it- oh fuck you're squeezing me so tight-” He groans, and while you come apart around him, you feel his movements stutter as he releases inside you once more.

You're still trembling as he pulls out of you, collapsing into the sheets as your body aches in sweet bliss. Billy grabs the pillow, tossing it behind him so that he can pull you into him.

You curl against his body happily, resting your head on his bicep, barely able to keep your eyes open but wanting desperately to be reminded of the things you've been missing when he wasn't around.

“I love you.” You sigh, the emotion building too much in your chest to be left unsaid.

He pauses his act of pulling a thin sheet over your bodies to look at you. Tilting his head he smiles softly, before cupping your jaw.

His kiss is deliciously slow, your heart fluttering softly in your chest at the sensation of his slow passion.

He breathes out a sigh, rubbing the length of his nose against yours. 

“Fuck. There aren’t words.” He hums to himself for a second, “Hold on let me think of some.”

You smile, opening your eyes when he raises his head a little, deep in thought, your eyes find their way to the beautiful snake inked onto his perfect skin.

“You don’t have to,” You whisper, “...Find the words I mean.”

“I really do, I need you to understand how much you mean to me.”

“I know.” You protest softly, pressing your palm to his face, moving over his jaw, and down his neck.

He blinks, looking down at you.

“I want to feel your body crushed next to mine in the morning when I wake up. I want to memorise the colour of your eyes in the darkness before I fall asleep.”

He pauses, his eyebrows drawing together as he searches the deepest parts of his brain for the right words.

“I want you to reach out and touch me anytime you want, because when you do, you remind me that there’s a person out there that sees me- all of me- and you’re not scared of it.”

You take a slow breath, trying not to disrupt his thoughts, desperate, hanging on to his every word.

“I’ve spent my entire life trying to be worth something, to convince people that I belonged wherever I was, but I never really believed it… until I met you.”

He finally meets your gaze, tilting his head, giving you a small smile.

“I don’t just love you. It’s more than that. You’re my reason. You’re why I breathe.”

Your breath hitches in your throat, an ache in your chest as you look into his eyes. 

You say his name softly, fingers tangling in his hair as you coax his mouth down to yours.

He groans into it, cupping your jaw to tilt your chin higher.

“My wife.” He whispers into your mouth, before he kisses you again and again.

You grin.

“My husband.” You reply.

.

“What’s taking you so long?” You call from your spot in the warm bath, glancing at the open door, trying to catch any sight of Billy moving around.

“Patience, wife, I’m just getting something.” He calls back.

“Get it faster,” You whine, “I miss you.”

He steps into your line of sight, grinning at you as he raises one of those fancy water bottles in explanation.

You almost want to ask, but you assume he’s bringing water and not wine because of the copious amounts that ‘Dave’ has seen you drink in the last week.

He places the water on the ledge beside you, before kicking his boxers down his legs. You lean forward, allowing him to slide in right behind you, smiling when he grips your hips to pull you into his lap in the warm water.

“I remember our first bath.” He teases, bringing a hand up between your breasts just like the first time, to wrap his slender fingers around your throat.

“What was it I said? Nothing feels more right than this.”

You laugh, closing your eyes, settling against him.

“I have something for you.” He murmurs, and you open your eyes, turning your head to look up at him, thinking about all the possibilities and zeroing in on the most probable.

You can’t help your grin, raising your left hand out of the water expectantly.

Billy blinks in surprise, before he chuckles, reaching to pick up something on the ledge beside him, before he slides it onto your finger.

“You might know me a little too well.” He acknowledges, as you watch your wedding ring glint under all the suds clinging to your hand.

You link your left hand with his right, letting it settle under the water as you relax into him once more, a small kiss to your head.

“If there was anywhere else in the world you wanted to be right now… where would it be?” Billy asks after a few moments, his voice is low and calm, as at ease as you feel.

The corner of your mouth ticks up in mischief.

“I would be… hmm… in a cozy little cabin in the snowy woods.”

He hums, amused.

“All by yourself?”

“No, I have my bodyguard, Dave with me.”

It’s not an answer he was expecting.

“Dave?” Billy asks with an incredulous tone.

You giggle.

“Yeah, it’s cold, and I want to get cozy, and I sort of annoy my bodyguard Dave by making him do things for me because I’m not the best at keeping tabs of everything, so I boss him around a lot, the poor guy.”

“I’m sure Dave likes being bossed around by you.” Billy thinks aloud, playing along.

You nod.

“Yeah, but I’m especially bossy this time, and the snow gets worse, and I make the mistake of drinking a little too much alcohol because it makes me feel so warm.”

You can almost feel the air supercharge with electricity when Billy realises where this is going.

“Definitely, a poor choice, princess.” He murmurs, his breath tickling the shell of your ear.

You clench around nothing, trying to stay perfectly still.

Nodding, you continue talking as if nothing is wrong, “Dave would probably be so angry, having to take care of me, I doubt that’s even his job.”

“On the contrary,” Billy interjects, “His job is to protect you, even if that’s from yourself. If you push him enough, there’s no telling what he might do- or how he might go about teaching you discipline.”

A low moan of delight leaves your throat, you find your hips rolling in need, desperate for friction.

“He’d probably pull my clothes off, so he could touch every part of me, cuffing my hands behind my back-” You shudder when Billy’s fingers find your clit, rubbing generously at the aching spot under the warm water.

“He’d fuck you so hard you wouldn’t be able to walk, mark your pretty skin so that you knew, deep down, who’s really in charge.” Billy raises his other hand to pluck gently at your stiff nipples.

You grin, nodding.

“And then, when I’m nice and full and dripping with his cum, he takes a few pictures so that he can tease me about them later.”

“That’s quite a dream, little wife.”

You smile, turning your head to kiss the column of his neck.

“No rush, we’ll take our time working up to that.”

He kisses the top of your head.

“Of course.”

You shift your hips, feeling his stiff erection under you- telling you exactly how he felt about your pretend scenario. 

There were so many things you wanted to do with him, and you couldn’t wait, the prospect of a lifetime with Billy Russo made you happier than you could imagine. Even better, the knowledge that he was just as content with you, as you were with him, made all of the hardships of the past, present and future seem absolutely worth it.

Because when it really came down to it, you were together now, and it didn’t matter how it started, whether it was accidentally,

Or on purpose.

.

.

.

[lizardho]

I also REALLY wanna emphasize that part of the reason our stories are so weird and funny and whatever is because babs and I were tenaciously curious about EVERYTHING and we got REALLY into what we liked. And we got really into storytelling because we love stories, because stories are part of our upbringing and our cowboy heritage, and because they make more sense than real life. And one day I made the mistake (I say this jokingly because it’s actually a really good memory now) of telling my dad that I wanted to learn to write my stories. My dad, who had worked 12-hour swing shifts at the E.R. for my entire life up to that point, felt sad that his job had limited his time with us, and he put his whole pussy into making me a writer. He spent two weeks spending every spare second of his day looking into how to be a better writer. And one day, two or three weeks after I had told him that, he comes to me and tells me that he’s going to support my dream of being an author. And he tasked me with writing a LOT of stuff. Any story I made up, any thought or opinion I had, he asked me to write it down and then he gave me feedback on it. The same thing, or something similar at least, happened to Babs, fwiw.

This is the source of many of my happiest, best memories with my parents, and this was also REALLY annoying as a kid. I’d wanna tell my dad about the story I just made up with my l’il lego guys or whatever and he’d be like “write it down and I’ll give you feedback on your story in 2-3 business days” and like, sometimes I just wanted to yap (Again, looking back on it I have good memories of writing for my dad). But the thing my dad had learned by studying this for us was that the way to get better at writing was to write a LOT, to get a LOT of feedback on our writing, and to be aware of the important elements of a story. Because of this, me and babs have become gifted writers. We wrote a lot, we got lots of feedback, we studied our favorite authors, we studied the tips and tricks of the people who mattered in our lives, and we can fucking WRITE now.

So when we verbalize the little things we did in our lives, part of why it’s fun and funny is because we’re genetic freaks, and we’re not normal, and that makes our lives unusual too. A lot of the shit we did didn’t come naturally which meant we had to make conscious decisions, which in turn are easier to remember.

Another part of why it’s fun is because our dad helped us become excellent writers, and that means we can express ourselves well in writing (in-person is a totally different experience). And it’s always nice to read stuff from people who can express themselves well.

And the last reason it’s fun to read our stuff is because we were raised by a loving nerd-cowboy and a loving feminist supermom, both of whom are neurodiverse in some way. This meant we were almost always safe to share our thoughts and feelings because our parents were genuinely curious about our inner lives and feelings, and they were able to understand how our inner worlds were different from other people’s. It also meant that we were very loved and appreciated, which meant there was always at least one point in our day and one place in our life where we could safely engage in deep self-reflection and analysis. This was helpful for us in being able to uncover the little stories in our lives and really let them sink in. A lot of why we’re good writers is practice and hard work, and also a lot of it is a privilege we received not out of merit (it’s not like we deserved great parents and other people deserved crappy parents, we just kinda ended up with good parents) but out of blind luck and love.

To make this all succinct, many of our stories come from us being able to fully live in our own lives. We didn’t go out of our way to seek excitement - we actually were pretty serious homebodies so we often went out of our way to avoid it. Instead, we found ways to find the magic in the small silly things that happen in life, and finding the magic in simple, mundane, every day stuff makes it easier to add magic into it on purpose too. And if you do that enough it takes you to some strange places. I know both @inbabylontheywept and I have made decisions or done or said things that were unnecessarily complicated or kinda “going out of our way” just because we knew it would make the story of our lives a bit more entertaining or magical. Recognizing that you are living in a story can help you find your own stories. Finding the things that matter to you can help you do this too. And finding your stories can, in turn, make your life as enchanting and silly and bewildering and crazy as our lives have been. It’s an active skill to develop. It requires a willingness to see yourself as a character at times. It requires practice and time. It requires a willingness to make things silly for the plot. And it requires some unspecified amount of autism. But it IS doable, and it can make life more interesting.

How is your life so interesting

Normally, I just kind of laugh this question off, but I've been asked enough times I'm gonna take an honest stab at it.

So, the first thing worth considering is whether the story itself is all that interesting, or whether I am just a good storyteller. My most popular story is about cutting a lot of worms and half, and crying, and then being comforted by my mom. That's not a terribly uncommon or hard to imagine event. A lot of my stories more about the telling than the substance.

There are also some stories that are weird, but they're weird in ways that I also find, like, relateably weird? It might just be that I knew a lot of athletes in college, but I don't think eating raw eggs is that weird. Eating 15 in one go is, but I was roommates with a guy that ate like, three for breakfast, three in his in-class protein shake, and another three at dinner. That guy was attending ASU on a gymnast scholarship, but also, he genuinely ate 5 dozen eggs a week. That seems much more normal than eating 15 in one day.

To say nothing of eating raw onion. Tons of people eat raw onions. It baffles the non-onion eaters, but it's a super common thing. Especially in Mexico.

Some of the stories happen because I am better at noticing story-worthy events than most people. I can't tell you how many times I've been in public, and seen someone do some weirdass thing, and then had to nudge my wife and to get her to watch it too.

If I had to point to the parts of my life that are truly, genuinely, bafflingly weird, they would be my dating stories, and. I dunno. My general thermonuclear dumbass event posts. And I can break down why those two are interesting pretty simply:

I was unbelievably bad at dating. The majority of the time, that just meant that there was a few minutes of stilted small talk and never get a call back. But the thing is, Mormon culture strongly encourages dating as like, a social-practice thing, and I was very motivated to get good at it, so I just kept trying and trying and I think I went on at least 200 first dates before meeting my wife. I genuinely believe that if anyone went on 200 first dates, they would get some pretty incredible bad date stories too. Especially if they had autism. I know I write well, and I can sound very charming here, but it took me a very, very long to get decent social skills. I am just a disturbingly persistent learner.

I am very convincing. This is helpful when I am interacting with other people, because it can do things like, convince them to let me into their secret facility, or convince them to not vote Republican again, or to save at least put the company match into their retirement accounts. But when I'm just debating something with myself, my convincingness works against me: I am very good at tricking myself into believing that bad ideas are, somehow, actually good. This is part of why I have so much sympathy for the right wing lunatics that I work with. Every time I meet a crazy person I go, ah, but for the grace of God, go I. Anyway, this does an unfortunate thing where my excellent verbal skills drive my poor decisions, which results in the very odd combination of welll written, articulate stories about someone being A Fucking Idiot. Like the condom bomber story. I think this is also why most of the lawyers that I meet are insane in their personal lives.

Anyway, those are my theories! I'm gonna tag @lizardho because we mostly had the same childhood, but she has a better grasp on what normal people look like than me, and perhaps she'll have her own theories on the weirdness of our lives.

[sinisterexaggerator]

OK, my main issues with the Bane arc are as follows, while some can be explained away with headcanons or critical thinking skills, lol. Still. They bother me because it left US to do the work and did not properly elaborate on the how or why, or the who these people are even?!

Bane takes his style from a mentor who we don’t see his relationship with him at all yet are supposed to believe he cared about him within his five minutes or less of screentime. Cared enough to take up his hat and his mantle. I get he was left in charge of the gang, but they didn’t show that either, yet his guys come to pick him up once the transport arrives?? Then it’s straight to the Police Station? I have no doubt Bane would look up to someone who gave him a roof over his head when he was homeless and was starving, but I just wish we had seen more. Why he cared so much about his passing.

He ditched his friend right off the bat for a guy he just met. I mean, I guess it makes sense he could do that for his love of credits, and his fear of the cops, but that was the first betrayal, and it was Bane betraying Niro and not the other way around.

Arin was cool enough in her own right but the very first scene we see her she is already holding her stomach like she preggo. She was worried from the outset about telling Bane she’s knocked up, and that’s all she was there for—to serve as a plot device between two men.

The fact she leaves Bane for his best friend turned enemy after they meet one time. Did you even love Bane? And of all the people to marry, why Niro? Is it because of closeness to Bane you chose him? Is it because you didn’t want your child to grow up a bastard and fatherless? Smells like teen pregnancy and a shit situation for a girl caught between a rock and a hard place.

Thug / cop / good guy / bad guy trope with a love interest caught in the middle so cliché and overdone and did not like, tbh.

Why was Bane so delulu about Arin wanting to see him after being in prison for so many years and no one heard anything about her or seen her? Yeah, we can say he didn’t get messages in prison, but really?? No one told him anything??

Niro says she died a few years ago—did she die while “giving birth?” Did passing that huge ass egg kill her?

WHY DID THEY HAVE TO KILL HER OFF SCREEN?

Colby. I cannot get behind the name Colby, I am sorry. I see people’s reasonings for their acceptance of it and just no, not for me.

Why was he already called Cad? Why no backstory as to why he renamed himself Cad Bane? Shouldn’t there have been a lead up to that? It’s literally just a nickname he goes by? How unoriginal. I expected more.

They did not show how he got so good with blasters. Did Lazlo teach him offscreen somewhere? I suppose we’re supposed to guess or use inference here, but not all viewers are that smart HAHA.

Where did he get the accent from all of a sudden? Did he steal that from Lazlo too? Kid Bane didn’t talk that way but all of a sudden young adult Bane does.

The whole “you took everything from me” bit is still kind of a weird thing to say. I know fandom is explaining it in different ways. I just have to assume he means his freedom, his girl, his right to vengeance, his right to choose in terms of Arin stopping him from another duel and that it was stolen out from under him. But that’s not Niro’s fault??

They never explained “why” Arin couldn’t tell Bane. Was it because she was afraid of what he would say? Again we have to assume here. Of course the man would be conflicted, and he’s a known hothead.

Why did they say he got off on a technicality?? Are murderers not given life sentences in Star Wars?? Why not a prison break scene—much more fitting. Lazy writing, imo. But. They only had so much time I guess.

What the fuck was the point of making him a dad?? Are they going to revisit this in the future? Is he going to have—god forbid—a redemption arc?? Is he going to have to face-off against his own kid, and maybe show just how much more of a bastard he is ( hope so )?

This story in and of itself did not convince me of why he is the way that he is. If anything it showed he does care about people, like Arin, and even briefly his “son” before he is turned away. So how does that explain how he is so ruthless, coldblooded, a baby kidnapper, etc? Of course I guess that is up for us to decide, and decide we will. I can only imagine it erodes his psyche overtime, what with regret and all, and that lingering knowledge of fuck I have a kid out there—unless yeah, no big deal. Didn’t actually give a fuck about his girlfriend beyond her being some kind of prize to be won, and he just … writes him off. We can INFER it is for the best; he thinks he would be terrible as a dad; he knows he couldn’t raise the boy for the lifestyle he chose .. but again. Why. Just why. This wasn’t needed.

WE SHOULD HAVE BEEN GIVEN THE BOBA VS. BANE ARC. IT WAS RIGHT THERE.

AND IF HE CAN'T EVEN TAKE HIS OWN KID UNDER HIS WING, WHY WOULD HE TAKE UP JANGO'S?? Because he owed him a favor?? So he didn't owe Arin anything then?? HmMMmMM

[faiszt]

⠀⠀⠀───⠀⠀ ACADEMIC LIFE⠀⠀·⠀୭⠀⠀🚬̸⠀ִ⠀ﾟ⠀ r. ︎ cameron ꒰ 注意！ ꒱⠀minors do not interact⠀⠀ে♥︎ ूੂ⠀ eighteen plus

୨୧⠀summary!⠀you and rafe are the complete opposites of what an exemplary college student would be and, honestly, you can barely stand each other. except when he’s the one responsible for de-stressing your brilliant brain for you.︎⠀♥︎

୨୧⠀content warning:⠀ smut. hard & strong language. weed mentions. enemies with benefits. masturbation. slightly praise kink. dirty talk. fingering. handjob. ୨୧⠀wordcount:⠀2.8k⠀·⠀again, minors do not interact!

୨୧⠀letters to lovers:⠀hey! this has been in my drafts for a while and though i’ve read and re-read it, i can’t really guarantee that i haven’t missed any little mistakes. so, i apologize in advance. i hope you like it! ♡ see you soon.

star student, there was an appeal to being the highest-graded student in the class, though college was more about survival than being exemplary. you decided that surviving wasn’t your only goal, but rather always being the best, almost a matter of honor for your competitive brain.

everything could be a competition if you tried hard enough not to be the loser. but, rafe believed that you were actually just a spoiled know-it-all in who’d end up successful, because you’re brilliant, but alone and divorced at thirty... or rather, maybe not even divorced because he doubted you could stand to be around anyone without losing your temper with them in the next five minutes.

he certainly had a lot of opinions about you for someone who’d make the long walk to the visual arts building just to see the know-it-all who pretends to be a nobel prize winner in physics.

and he’d say it from the rooftops if he wasn’t drooling over you and your beautiful, stupidly smart brain that he’d like to do many things with which, again, he’d never mention out loud. envy or weird love, probably hard to say which feeling was stronger in him.

it wasn’t like you didn’t have controversial opinions about him either. like his stupidity, his bad sarcastic comments, his slowness, his use of weed beyond what’s supposed to be recommended, maybe looking like a chimney wasn’t exactly cool. he was intelligent, not the scientist type, but as hot as insufferable.

rafe was the perfect person to set an example for you of what not to do, so you criticized him whenever you had the chance, then he criticized you whenever he had the chance. it wasn’t an academic competition, much less an artistic one, maybe it was just one about who could last the longest without trying to get into the other’s pants again.

the first competition you both lost.

in the passenger seat of his minivan, you had your arms crossed over your chest and a grumpy expression on your face. rafe looked at you over his shoulder, rolling his eyes and chuckling softly at your behavior before taking a drag on his joint. “you need to relax, two-shoes,” a low cough between his words. “i swear this one is good.” he offered you the joint, but you grabbed his wrist and pushed it away from you. “fine, you’re the boss.”

silence reigned in his minivan for a few minutes before he sighed and put his joint aside, looking at you, waiting for you to tell him what was making you so mad that you asked to spend time with him and didn’t insult him yet. a miracle, honestly. “it’s not like i’m going to care that much, but if you want to talk about what’s makin’ your lame ass hurt so bad... i’m all ears.” yeah, he wasn't really unbearable.

“i’m just stressed, rafe,” you sighed, still looking as grumpy as you did before. “and a joint isn’t going to make that better.” you took away his hopes and he just looked like a kicked puppy after knowing that you didn’t even want to try the best thing he could offer you. “i just need to stop thinkin’ about my academic life, that shit is killin’ me.”

“i see...” he mimicked your behavior, crossing his arms in front of his body with a slightly serious expression. “get a dog and teach it to bite you every time you spend more than three minutes quiet.” rafe suggested in the dumbest way he could think of, starting to laugh when he saw that it only made you more grumpy. “okay, okay... i can drive around, how ’bout that? i’ll take you somewhere nice... and i can make you chill your brain, princess.”

his words echoed in your mind as he drove around, you didn’t know where he was taking you and honestly, you just hoped that this would be enough to take your mind off all that unbearable pressure on your shoulders. ironic that he was the one who cared enough to want to take care of you when you turned to him.

twenty minutes or a little less, the silence was quite loud, though the music on the radio was too, you were talking to your own thoughts and he was trying to talk to you, even if you couldn’t hear him. the sun had already set on the horizon, the blue sky was no longer as vivid as it used to be and the clouds were slowly covering the stars that were trying to appear. melancholic, you thought.

you would’ve even thought about it a little more if you hadn’t been distracted by the minivan pulling up. the whole city right in front of your eyes through the windshield, you had never seen it before. “a viewpoint?” your eyes didn’t want to leave that sight, but you did it anyway, looking at rafe with a little more than that tired, stressed mood from before.

“the best place in this shitty city, actually. nobody comes here, perfect to have a nice joint,” he grumbled, crossing his arms over his chest before leaning back in his seat. “i mean, it’s a good place to chill with a pretty girl, yeah? now smile a little, you’re makin’ me depressed.”

“your life is already makin’ you depressed.” you retorted and he just laughed, placing his hand over his chest as if he had been slapped hard.

“ouch, princess, why so mean?” then, rafe sighed, almost like a snort, looking away from you for nothing more than a second. “come on, you can’t stay sulking forever... you need a helping hand or somethin’ to lighten that mood?”

you knew perfectly well what he meant by helping hand, not that he was discreet with the meaning of his words when his hand was already snaking over your bare knee. “i’m trying to be generous with you today, but looks like you don’t deserve my generosity right now.” he was just teasing you, quite predictable, it wasn’t like he’d deny you if you just looked at him with that look.

“you were less pathetic to try to finger me back then, you know?” your not-really-funny joke made him laugh, kinda bothered as he took his hand off your knee, adjusting your seat so you could lie down a little more.

“yeah, yeah, pathetic... let’s see who will be the pathetic one here in a few minutes.” damn bastard. you should’ve known rafe was silly, goofy and whatever, but he took it seriously when you called him pathetic, almost as if that was his only weakness when it came out of your mouth, specifically.

before you could think straight, his hand was already on you again, between your thighs, caressing the thin fabric of your underwear while he didn’t even look at you. he looked so good, not at all bothered like he was before by your little joke, maybe because he knew you’d still have a massive crush on him even if he was the most jerk man in the whole world.

your skirt meant nothing more than a boring piece of cloth that was getting in the way of him reaching his goal and, honestly, he wanted to take it off right that second, but he held himself back. “pussy and joint, thank god.” yeah, well, he was high, you already knew that anyway.

“are you going to be quiet or do you need me to sit on your stupid face?” rafe paused for a second contemplating your words before nodding, pulling your panties down as if he was following orders you didn’t even have to give him.

“this isn’t as threatening as you think it is.”

“rafe.”

“it’s the weed.”

and could you stay mad at him? definitely not. he was a little... well, frustrating and silly, but damn, you could put up with so much bullshit if it meant having his fingers all the way on you. rafe was the perfect blend of everything you couldn’t be, the perfect antidote to whatever it was you had.

his long finger with a silver ring stroked your clit gently, little pressure, just looking at you as if he wanted to gauge exactly what you wanted and how you wanted it. he wasn’t a stranger to it, but pleasing you every time was what he wanted to do. “can i put my finger inside?” anyone could say anything about him, except that he wasn’t a good boy even when he was fingering you.

“yeah.” you sighed deeply, watching his fingers caress your clit before moving down your slit in an almost chilling manner. that was exactly what you needed and you couldn’t believe how well he did it even when he was kind of high.

you had to bite your lips, his middle finger stroked your entrance for a brief moment, using your own juices to make you wetter for him—which, honestly, you already were, but he wanted a little more, just for the show. until he began to lightly pump his finger in and out for a good time, watching you with a small smirk, listening to your every single little grunt.

“you look so pretty with my finger inside your pussy, princess.” he almost sounded like he was purring in his whisper, putting a little more force on your finger and increasing the pace. didn’t you want to de-stress? then, he’d de-stress you nice and deep. “can you suck it for me?”

rafe pulled his finger out of you, making you miss it for a minute before he brought his wet finger to your lips. “open your mouth for me.” he asked in the nicest way possible waiting for you to open your pretty little mouth, like he wasn’t finger fucking you before, like he was a sweet gentleman. “yes. just like that, you’re so obedient, princess.”

he brushed his finger across your lips, chuckling softly in a sly manner. “this could be your lip gloss... i’d love to kiss you with that taste...” he stuck his finger in your mouth, running the tip over your tongue, making you taste yourself on his finger before going deeper. his silver ring was cold against your lips as he was tickling your throat, he loved the sight. “you choke so well on my cock, i wanna see if you do the same with my finger.”

idiot, that was the truth about him, he was still chuckling softly like a silly boy when he purposely started trying to make you choke on his finger. you’d be lying to yourself if you said that you didn’t like the way he treated you. “there you go, nice and wet.” he seemed satisfied when he made you gag enough for your eyes to water, it was exactly what he wanted to see. “back to your sweet pussy...”

you took a deep breath as he removed his finger from your mouth, saliva wetting the corner of your lips as he slowly put his finger back inside you, pumping in and out again. “you’re going too slow.” your words came out with a spark of discontent.

“yeah, princess? let’s do this your way then... is that fast enough for you?” the question was almost on purpose, just because he absurdly increased the pace of his fingers and wanted to see if you’d answer him without sighing. which you didn’t, and like the good bastard he always was, this served to make him feel way proud about the effect he had on you. “or do you need a little more?”

he put another finger inside you, making you let out a restrained moan as you bit your lower lip, then he stopped. “no. i wanna hear you. now... or i’ll stop again.” he warned, moving his fingers inside you again. hearing you moan was like listening to music, he couldn’t get tired, especially knowing that he was the one making you moan like that.

but, rafe was weak and you could see the bulge growing in his pants, but he was too busy pleasuring you to care about how horny he felt.

“rafe,” you called him, your hand slowly moving towards his thigh. he was making you feel so fucking good, it was fair that you did the same for him too. “let me touch you too... please.” a smirk began to appear on his lips when he heard you asking to touch him, that was the last straw and he knew he couldn’t deny you anything—not when his fingers were so deep in your pussy.

“yes, princess, whatever you want. my cock is yours... to do what you want.” he grunted, using his free hand to pull his pants down, a little bit, just so he could pull his cock out of his boxers. thick and hard, waiting for your touch. then, he took your hand, guiding it towards his erect member and wrapping your fingers around it. “mhmmh... sweet girl.”

he began to arch his hips upwards as he thrust his fingers deeper inside you again and again, pumping in and out quickly, your moans intensifying and making him feel ever closer to a pleasurable end. he was so worked up for you.

“i’m going to...” your legs were going weak, your fingers squeezing his cock as they moved up and down. your mumbling was intense and messy, you had to look at him and damn, what a sight. you could see his cock glistening with his pre-cum, as if it was offering itself to you. “... fuck.”

“use your... words, princess...” rafe moaned hoarsely, his digits slowing way too much just so he could appreciate your expression of pleasure, the expression of someone who was so close to break down.

“yes... mmhm... i’m going to... come...” each of the words that came out of your mouth dragged out like a long moan. he could feel how much you were squeezing his fingers, moving your hips towards them and almost closing your legs—he knew your stress was dissipating at that moment, seeing the satisfaction reflecting in your eyes.

a low chuckle escaped him, he pumped his fingers in and then, they were completely out of you, so he could just put them all the way down inside you again. back and forth until your inner thighs were shaking. “and so am i...” he grunted, using his free hand to guide your hand one more time, making you stroke him faster and harder than before. “come for me, sweet princess... let me know i made you come like you needed.”

it didn’t take long, your orgasm came like a flood that almost left you drowsy. your breathing was labored, your legs weak and shaking, just like you wanted—just like you needed, the stress of your college life finally leave you alone for a while.

meanwhile, rafe next to you had his eyes closed, enjoying the feeling of your hand on his cock, making him see stars until he was a cumming mess. the jets of cum on his bare stomach making him notice how intense he was with you and how only you could provide that to him. “this would be embarrassing if i hadn’t made you cum just now,” he grumbled before straightening up in the driver’s seat to grab a roll of toilet paper from the backseat. yeah, of course he had that there. “here if you need, my princess.”

the emphasis he placed on the possessive pronoun might stress you out if you weren’t simply too busy still thinking about how amazing his fingers felt. you watched him clean himself out of the corner of your eye before doing the same, wiping yourself down and lifting your panties back into place—as if nothing had happened.

“thank you.” despite your behavior, it was clear that this would give him a few good days without having to deal with you insulting him for any little reason you could think of. eventually, he’d totally win you over, it was just a matter of time.

rafe was almost overjoyed to know that he was your escape valve, glad to be able to take advantage of the chances you gave him, especially because he’d make good use of each one of them. “how about we go get something to eat now? i’m so hungry that i could eat you.” he said, the confusing face you made when you didn’t understand what he had said was priceless.

“what did you just say?”

“nothing. it’s the weed.”

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