#which is exactly what’s happening right now | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

bleuberries-and-video-games · 2 days ago

Text

I can tell you this first hand, even the people who are fighting, they're doing it running ragged. Double that for anyone who's like a marginalized identity targeted explicitly by him, I know trans people who are burning the candle at both ends, myself included, to create support groups, networks of aid, any kind of shit just to keep going and to maintain any sort of equilibrium and even make ends meet. I'm very fortunate to have the job I have, I don't know if I will have it forever, as my job does kind of require or rely upon Federal and local government grants and the state of Missouri is not exactly a very kind place right now to trans people.

Not only that, but also like, I would like to explain to anyone from outside of the United States what the United States is like, because I don't think any of you understand what it's like. I think you see New York and la and maybe Austin Texas and maybe Portland oregon, or God forbid any one of the places where there's like a Disney theme park that some of y'all go to, but like those are really big economically beautiful and thriving places. That means they look picturesque, that means they look like America is fine and thriving, but I can assure you that is not the case for a number of different groups and people and places. Hell even in those places I've listed, there are issues you can see on a day-to-day basis that you wouldn't normally see just touring.

The vast majority of the United States, for the vast part of its history, has been some kind of police state with some kind of hyper regulatory body enforcing some kind of morally tied laws. From cross-dressing laws, to race mixing laws, to laws disparaging and maintaining women's oppression, to the very fact that if you didn't own land for a large part of this country's history, you didn't have any sort of power. At all. This means that you are beholden to a capitalistic class that has grown more and more powerful as time has gone on. America is not a shining City on hill and has never been a shining City on a hill, it has always been this place that has been propped up by capitalism, and always had a bunch of people that are sitting in the periphery and which makes the majority of the capital but doesn't see a dime of it. If you think that this is suddenly abnormal, that we went from voting for Obama to voting for the orange dweeb, you're a fucking idiot. You're not paying attention. You're so wrapped up in economic and social nationalism for your countries, thinking about how much better your Society is in contrast and trying desperately to figure out what went wrong™ in America that you forget fascism starts when you start drawing heavy borders and when you start thinking about us versus them. Everyone in the entire world is beholden and capable of doing fascism. I mean it fucking started in Europe for God's sake, Europe is not this enlightened Center of cultural good, for a long time it was very regressive and stifling, and it is only a recent part of History in which that has not been the case. And didn't even more recent history, you have benefited off of economic booms and trade Partnerships that have basically dissolved orders that once caused decades-long escalating conflicts that almost entirely destroyed the world. This is not an accident, this happens because of the economic powers that be, this is because of capitalism, and this is specifically because we have still not addressed the issues that plague the world.

We are trying our very best to do what we can to fight what we can and protect what we can. But when the majority of the country has been getting increasingly economically disparate, when police get more funding than schools, when the military is all over the world working with allies and toppling Nations or propping up proxy states, when all of our money goes to defense contractors or contracted Federal businesses run or cut to Pieces by private Equity firms, there's not a whole lot many people can do, and the more marginalized you are, the more Afflicted and affected by different issues in the world you are, the harder it is for you to do something. And yet I know some people who do stuff, who do fight, who fucking have to walk with a cane or crutches, who struggle to breathe or struggle to go anywhere, who don't have cars, and they still manage to go to meetings, work with organizations, and they're trying, they're God damn trying.

You see the problem is for the last 40 fucking years, the media apparatus that the United States runs, CNN and fox news, have accelerated the concept of propaganda in America from something that is a lot more decentralized and region specific, into this National Force that basically tells the world what America thinks. The issue is? Neither CNN nor Fox news, nor HLN, the Oprah Winfrey channel, cbs, abc, nbc, or Comedy Central really represent the American people and their opinions. A number of these nationally syndicated television shows and news programs have to water down a lot of perspectives, and they often dehumanize, Rob The Voice of, or just genuinely ignore very necessary issues. This is also because of the fairness doctrine, a standard that guaranteed the news would be a certain way, was abolished around the time that CNN and Fox News started taking off.

So not only were you getting watered down, oftentimes nationalized opinions, there was no alternative perspectives and there was no way to tell who thought what and why. And so pretty much the entire world and anyone who watches CNN and Fox News has just assumed that's what Americans think, when in reality we are very much skeptical and very much frustrated with what either program says, and by extension a lot of other media companies. We have watched and tried very actively to stop the monopolization of our media, but we are pretty much helpless to stop it because there's not a lot of avenues we can take especially the worse and worse things get.

You have to stop thinking of America in terms of the prosperity that is projected on television and by a bunch of places for touristic means, you have to start thinking about it in terms of the places that you don't see, you have to start thinking about it as a sort of oligarchic dictatorship that has traded hands over and over again for the last several decades to financially benefit a bunch of dick heads at the top of the hierarchy. Those same Financial dick heads go and explore the world, prop up and collaborate with different financially powerful individuals, and maintain the conflicts and oppression that run the world. Ever since the fall of the Berlin wall, and even since before that point, America has had pretty much free reign with little opposition to do a bunch of bullshit like that.

All the while a lot of it citizens suffer, a lot of them are compulsory forced to serve in the military in order to get the bare minimum amount of college, medical care, and so on, which creates a massive benefit to the military industrial complex, and by extension ships are troops all over the world to help our allies supposedly defend themselves, when in actuality all it's doing is just legitimizing and continuing the cycle of financial destruction.

What I'm trying to say is you have to stop thinking of America in terms of what you see in the media and start looking at America in terms of what you hear from people around here, and more importantly you have to talk to people who are not kissing the ass of government or posting rampant conspiracism. You have to talk to regular citizens and actually get a gauge on what it's like living in both middle and wider range America. I would love for California and New York to be the emblematic representation of america, I would love for the media and ideas you see and engage with to be true, but it's not and it can't be.

America has never been this prosperous giant, it has been a testing ground for the extent of which capitalism can be abusive and get away with it. It is always been that way. You can ask however it got to this point, and I will point to the Civil War and say it was always this way.

It was always about maintaining indentured servitude, always about maintaining disparity and destruction and oppression, and basically from the beginning America has constantly been founded by and sustained by consistent and perfect PR spins. Liberty and justice for all? Or for a bunch of guys who own land? Yes you can change it, but you don't change it by simple votes. All of the Amendments that have giving us rights and changes that have made the country supposedly better have been paid for in blood, and almost all of them have been subverted by a bunch of movements antithetical to their existence simply because a group of people didn't like being told what to do. We are trying our very goddamn best. Please know that the media lies to you, please know that our government lies to you, please know that everything you hear about us is likely some kind of fabrication meant to maintain some kind of facade to get you to believe bullshit. To make you think that we're complaining with this. To make you think that we wanted this. We didn't. Those of us who did? I guarantee you are in the minority. I know they are in the minority.

For those outside of America going "why don't you fight back" or "don't you guys know what's going on?" let me explain something to you.

We know.

There is nothing a lot of us can do right now.

We are either minorities surrounded by Trump supporters or struggling to make ends meet or (most likely) both.

These first few days are designed to exhaust us. It's the same tactic he used during his first administration. Overwhelm the media and the masses so that the more sinister things he does gets swept under the rug.

And honestly, a lot of us are checked out because we spent the last four years warning people about a second term because our lives were on the line and those we thought cared about us proved they didn't.

And now we're just trying to find some sort of semblance of happiness in this joyless world we're now living in. We fight when we can, we bring attention to what we can, but a lot of us are just fucking exhausted.

So please, cut us some slack. We've been fighting for the last eight years, we still have to fight for the next four.

Right now, survival is the only rebellion we have.

5K notes · View notes

reverieblondie · 15 hours ago

Text

Book Club

Pairing: Bucky Barnes x Female Reader

Warnings: 18+ Minors do not interact! explicit smut, Porn with plot! Oral (fem receiving), P in V unprotected sex (please wrap before you tap people), dirty talk, reader is loud and Bucky loves it.

Summary: Working at a library and at times be boring... but what happens when one of your regulars wants to make a book club? Just you and him?

A/N: Self indulgence like always! Please let me know what you think! Never have written for Bucky but he's slowly consumed mt soul and I got this silly idea on a whim so I hope you all enjoy! If you like How I wrote for him send me an ask, request are open always!

Word Count: 5,723

‘The feeling of the cold metal is at first such a shock to her skin; it makes her whole body snap… and her thighs spread wider with need. He’s sliding his armored hand up so slowly… his ardent eyes drinking her in, relishing in all her sounds.

His princess, his lady he swore to always keep safe from anything, the one he promised to keep pure… now gasps and pleads for him to grace her with his touch.

Their game of stares and honeyed teasing finally had a result; they both lost…

She dragged him from the party, desperate for fresh air from the stuffy ballroom, but he knew the truth. She did it for him and his hate of crowds. Nothing ever gets past the princess he’s learned… but now, as she is so sweetly moaning and bucking your hips further, he’s learning more than he ever dreamed he could.

He brings his lips to her ear, kissing lightly before he whispers gruffly, “Shh Princess, we wouldn’t want anyone to catch you out here… with your skirts bundled up on your hips. With your knight’s hand in your cunt… They might get the wrong impression of you, my lady.”

She rolls her eyes as she squeezes his shoulders, her frustrations building. “Stop teasing, and please just touch me!”

He smirks as he brings his metal-covered finger to tease her clit, beaming as a moan rips from her throat as she-’

Ahem…

Entirely lost in the book’s text, you hardly notice the tall figure in front of your desk. It isn’t until a gruff clearing of their throat that it knocks you from your book, meeting your eyes to the piercing blue ones of Bucky Barnes. Who stands so patiently with his book in hand, waiting for you to do your job at the library instead of wasting time.

Fumbling with your bookmark, you hastily place it inside before awkwardly slamming your book down. “I am so sorry, Bucky. I was just…” Your cheeks burn with embarrassment, and you can’t help but feel a bit foolish in front of him.

“Getting lost in the story? I understand a good book can take you away from the present. No need to apologize.” He kindly offers you the right words with a smile that always makes you want to swoon.

“Exactly,” you say with a sigh of relief, taking the book from his hands. Feeling the slight warmth from his fingers as his skin brushes long yours. Such a contrast to the usually frigid library… you bet his whole body is perfectly toasty to curl up with.

You must force yourself to stop your obvious gawking to look at the book he’s checking out. When you see the familiar front, you can’t help but giggle. “Checking out the Hobbit again?”

Bucky shrugs, keeping his smile as he looks at the book in your hands. “It’s my favorite, plus it helps comfort me.”

You bite your tongue, suddenly feeling like a complete idiot. Of course, he checks this book repeatedly; it’s like a memory of his former life… everyone knows what he’s been through, and now you’re teasing him like a jerk…

The start of an apology is on the tip of your tongue, but Bucky cuts you off before you can say anything, “I am starting to remember all the lines, though, and will need to start reading something else. Do you have any recommendations? Like what are you currently reading?”

He looks at the book you placed on the side, eyeing the title Iron Promises. “Sounds like a fantasy, which is right up my alley. What’s it about?” he asks, his curiosity piqued.

Bucky reaches over and opens the book right on the bookmark, but you’re quick to slap it closed and drag it back to your TBR stack, “Wait! Um… I don’t think it’s… your kind of book…”

“Why?” he asks, his brows furrowing, showing you that cute crease on his forehead. You fidget with it momentarily, feeling the awkwardness of the situation, trying your best to avoid his icy blue eyes.

“Well, it is a fantasy but also a romance…”

He tilts his head, “What’s wrong with romance? I can read a little romance.”

Internally, you grimace, More like a lot of heavy smut…

Bucky leans casually on the counter, his vibranium arm taking the weight as he gets closer. “Plus, it will be fun to read something together that we can talk about maybe… kind of like a book club… if you’re interested…”

The last part comes out a bit unsure, timid of possible rejection. You feel your cheeks blooming with a blush. A book club with James Bucky Barnes? This was something you could never even dream of.

You have been working at the library for a while now, and having the former Winter Soldier check out books was certainly a surprise. However, as time passed and he continued to visit, it became less shocking. In fact, you both began to form what felt like the beginning of a friendship as you talked more.

Over time, you discovered some fascinating aspects about him. He’s strict about returning books on time, surprisingly quite friendly once he’s opened up and got to know someone, revealing a sweet playful side to himself. And to your delight, he’s a secret nerd, which explains his desire to start a book club in the first place, though his reading choices differ from yours...

“A book club sounds fun… but please, not this one. I’m already almost done with it anyway. Maybe it should be something we both haven’t read.” You propose with a shaky smile, hoping he agrees.

He tilts his head in compilation until he’s eyeing past your shoulder. You blush despite knowing exactly what he’s doing… It’s the stack of your TBR right next to the computer. He browses through the stack, reading their spines until he finally points his finger, “How about that one?”

Clashing silver, Oh no….

Bucky asks if he can see it, and you bergrugently take it from the stack and place it in his hand. Thankfully, the cover of this book isn’t like some of the others with shirtless men holding women in a sensual embrace… but you know… you know that on the inside of the fantasy is spice that you’re not sure you’re ready for Bucky to know you’re into. Is he making fun of you? Or is this some weird game that will suddenly blow up in your face when he laughs at you?

Bucky looks over the cover and reads through the summary before finally looking up with one of his rare grins, “This is perfect. Do we have any extra copies? We could get started tonight.” -he’s completely earnest in wanting to do this. It’s terrifying and yet so endearing… if he wants to read a dirty fantasy smut book with you… who are you to deny him?

A few types on the computer show that you currently have one copy available, of course…

You see that Bucky is looking up at you expectantly; you will never know how a man you know can be completely deadly and look so adorable with his smirk and clear blue eyes. Sliding the Hobbit over, you sigh, “The last copy is in the fantasy selection; put this one back and go grab it.”

With a grin and a newfound pep in his step, Bucky takes the book, going to put it back and get the one for your book club. This may be the death of you… reading smut with the winter soldier, you couldn’t even fathom this shit.

It's been surprisingly really fun and going shockingly really well.

You two decided to have your first weekly meet-up at the library, somewhere you both knew well and could be comfortable with. To say you were nervous to talk to him about this romantic fantasy, this romantisy was an understatement. You figured if he said he hated it, the book club would dissolve, and you two would return to sharing smiles and small talk as he checked out his next selections. Sure, that thought made your gut twist into a bitter knot, but what was the alternative? You two hit it off … continue your little club with more books and conversions till you finally have two glasses of wine and slip how you think he is the most beautiful man you ever saw?

Okay… maybe not that…

Especially not now when you two are going up to the elevator in your apartment. How did this happen? Ah, yes, you two were getting stares in the library, so he suggested somewhere more private, and you just had to offer up your apartment.

"Meet me at the library, we can walk to my place!" - ugh, great thinking…

You're trying hard not to stare at Bucky's reflection in the silver walls while also trying to avoid the eyes of Mrs. Green… You attempted to warmly greet your elderly neighbor… but she just stared at you two with her usual annoyed grimace. This, of course, started a staring war between her and Bucky… Honestly, you're not sure who's going to fold first. Bucky, of course, had that hardened military edge, but Mrs. Green? That's one stubborn granny… it seems to last forever till the set of cold, wrinkly eyes finally slide over to you.

"Guest of yours?" she drawls dully.

"Um, yes! This is James Barnes. He's my-"

Mrs. Green taps her cane, making you stop talking, "Fine, fine, just make sure you two keep it down… I don't want to hear your sinning."

Your jaw drops, and Bucky seems to crack a smile. "W-what, it's not like that!"

Before you can explain, the elevator stops, sliding open and letting Mrs. Green waddle away to her apartment while you and Bucky follow suit to your place directly next to hers. God, you hope Bucky isn't too embarrassed. You're sure he's probably mortified.

Shyly looking over as you're shutting the door, you think he will be glaring, but suddenly, he's letting out a loud chuckle. Then, you are both bursting into hysterical laughter.

Three loud bangs knock on your door, and you two have taken a minute to silence yourself.

"She's… fun," Bucky finally mutters, making you almost snort.

"You should try living next to her. It's a dream."

"I bet.." he says slowly as he looks around the small living room. Taking the chance while he's looking around, you dart off to your room to grab your book and notes. You're trying to get back to him quickly, but not before sliding over to your mirror and fixing your hair; you're tempted to put on some lip gloss… but maybe that's too much.

A quick flip through your book reminds you of where your book left off. Ah, right, the fight scene that ended with the main two characters kissing… this will be great…

“He feels his blood still rushing through his veins, the sweat drenching his skin in a desperate attempt to cool himself from the carnage. Screams and the crashing of metal continue to ring in his ears till he turns and looks at her. No longer does he hear all those voices. He just hears his heartbeat… it’s not a want; it’s a need as he walks over to her, scooping her in his arms and kissing those full lips that have always been so taunting.”

You feel a shiver once Bucky gets through the last lines of the chapter. Hearing him read it makes it seem less cheesy. Though you still can’t get one question out of your mind…

“I wonder if it’s like that…”

He stops looking from the book’s text to meet your gaze, “what?”

As soon as the words slip from your lips, you regret not being more careful with your words. Bucky is the last person you should be asking about this topic. The public only knows fragments of his past, but even those snippets reveal that deeper issues are haunting him that you can only imagine. Bucky shifts on the couch, adjusting his posture from sitting wide-legged to leaning his elbows on his knees, almost hunching over.

Great, you made him uncomfortable; please, world, swallow you up and save Bucky from your obnoxiousness.

“Everything feels… distorted; it’s a surge of many things all at once. You have to try to bring your focus back… but that blood-pounding rush lingers, making you exhausted but still ready to jump at a moment’s notice.” Bucky shifts his gaze awkwardly, fidgeting with his hands. “At least that’s how I felt…”

You swallow, shocked he’s being so open…

“So the kissing part is unrealistic?”

You’re thankful that gets a laugh from Bucky, “Well, I’ve never kissed anyone right after a fight… but I can imagine if my blood was rushing hot enough, and the right girl was nearby… I would get carried away.”

Dammit… Why is that hot?

“Well, if you ever do it. Let me know?”

“Don’t worry, you will be the first to know…” Bucky replies so simply… but you can’t help how it makes your whole body feel suddenly hot.

It’s quiet for a beat before he’s readjusting to lean back, trying to look comfortable. “Okay, your turn; read your favorite part.”

You’re not sure if you should curse the universe... or be extremely grateful, but either way, it does not change the fact that Bucky is stowing away at your apartment to do some silent reading. A week before you two were supposed to meet at Bucky’s place for book club, loud construction started happening near his building, and he just couldn’t concentrate because of the noise. So, considering you’re his book club buddy, he asked if he could come by to catch up on some reading.

Of course, you said yes, then frantically started cleaning and prepping like you would for

a book club meeting. You’re excited but also extremely nervous!

The apartment is silent, aside from the sounds of soft breathing and the slow turns of the book’s pages. The calmness is comfortable; you were worried that the time would have been filled with awkward rambling ... but it’s not; you two had fallen into a quiet routine. It makes sense that you get more comfortable when two people spend time around each other. However ..... When you peek over to look at him taking up So much space on your sofa .... You feel sparks of electricity pop through your veins. His eyes locked to the text, his brows slightly furrowed in concentration. His scruffed jaw in a lock and his full lips completely perfect.

It’s not until you see his tongue slightly lick his bottom lip that you break from your trace and realize you’re not even reading. You just staring at Bucky. Silently, you curse yourself for your shamelessness, but that only causes Bucky to quickly look up and meet your eyes. Oh, so suddenly you dart your face back to your book and try to hide that you were, in fact, leering. Of course ... it was in no way sublet, but Bucky is too much of a gentleman to say anything about it.

With the crisis averted you try to take in the book, even flipping the pages to reread a bit to familiarize yourself with what’s happening in the story. Blah, Blah, Blah, they are alone in the library together… finally starting to pay attention ... But unfortunately, old habits die hard, and before you can stop, you’re peeking for a glance again.

Creepy? Maybe, but it’s been a while since you spent time with someone silently like this. Plus, Bucky is beautiful, and getting to watch his little tics from how he lightly flicks the colored tabs with his thumb, and when he’s really entranced in the text, he slightly leans into the book, almost like he needs to read closer to really catch everything. Then suddenly… Bucky’s expression changes. You watch his eyes widen in surprise, and he sits back up fully straight. Of course, curious, you quickly scan some pages before finding the source of his surprise.

“And what do you think you’re doing on your knees, princess...” He grits through his teeth, watching as her dress billowed all around her and her hands slowly traced up his linen trousers. Inching towards where his cock is starting to strain the cloth.

“Trying to show my devotion to my knight...” She says innocently while pulling the ties.

Before she is done, he steadies his breath and comes back to reality, “You shouldn’t waste such sweetness on a man like me. I will ruin you.”

Considering his words, she pauses momentarily before looking back into his blue eyes, so dark in the library’s candlelight. It all becomes clear for her once more: her desire, her love for him.

“Then ruin me and forever mark me as yours…” From the look in her eyes, he knows She’s not. wavering

A good man would halt this and deny her... but he’s weak... and his love for her outweighs his rationality. He pulls the ties of his pants before gently he roughly grabs her and pushes…

- Oh my god!

Okay... it’s not like you haven’t read Smut in front of people before... but this is your crush... reading the same thing…

Embarrassed, you look up from the text, shutting the book only to be met with his eyes. You two stay locked for a moment, trying to ignore how both of your faces are starting to flush. Bucky’s eyes roam down to where you’re currently clenching your thighs. His light eyes suddenly get darker, and on the inside, you’re begging for him to spread you apart. But in your sudden nervous panic, you chuckle instead. Bucky matches your nervous chuckle with his own, though his is undoubtedly smoother. “These books love to just get to the point, huh? It and these situations... the p-positions, definitely unbelievable.”

You try to laugh off the whole thing, but to your surprise, Bucky doesn’t laugh. He shrugs while fidgeting with his book.” Not that unbelievable... I could easily lift you to my shoulders and not even waste a breath.”

Suddenly, the whole room feels like it’s shifted to its side. Was that a proposition? Maybe it’s just a statement? He is built, so he could lift you with one arm while the other rips.... - No! No!

Unsure where to take the conversation, you say the only thing that can come to your mind. “I’m going to drink water.”- Smooth...

Mentally slapping yourself, you walk to the kitchen and down some cold water before scrounging for something stronger. Maybe he was starting a discussion? But, of course, you ruin it by going into horny territory.

What if that’s the point, though... You freeze, feeling your heart rushing all over again...

Ahem...

You don’t even need to look up to see that it’s Bucky, standing in the kitchen doorway with a guilty look, “I’m sorry if I made you uncomfortable... I didn’t realize how it sounded like a... proposition till it was out of my mouth, and I saw the look on your face. I mean... not that I wouldn’t... Want to, to um... show you.” Bucky hesitates again, “Wait, that’s not - well, do think you’re…”

It’s perplexing... a deadly super soldier., stumbling over his words like he’s nervous... You continue to watch him stumble, weighing your options..... Maybe putting everything out there will go well, or it will blow up in your face and ruin everything…

Letting your feet take over, you walk over to Bucky; as soon as you step forward, he’s putting his ice-blue eyes on you. He almost speaks again but gently places your hand on his broad chest before he can. Under your fingertips, you feel his heart racing despite his calm exterior. Bucky places his hand over yours, waiting till you’re ready to speak. He would probably stand her all night if he had to. But no, your mind’s made up, and the feeling of his warm skin on yours only cements it for you.

“I want you to show me... everything.”

It’s all Bucky needed to hear before gently touching your cheek and trailing his fingers down your jaw. His concentration flicked from your eyes to your lips as he slowly leaned in. Finally, his full lips met yours as he brushed a gentle kiss on yours. Then he kissed you repeatedly, letting his hand slide into your hair as the kiss grew more starved.

You wrapped your hands over his neck, standing on your tiptoes to tangle your fingers through his dark hair. Without hesitation, Bucky leaned down, grabbing the back of your thighs to lift you closer. With you wrapped around his waist, he seeks more of your taste as he traces the softness of your lips with his tongue, begging for entry. Parting your mouth, you feel his tongue slide along yours in a perfect slowness that only adds to the heat between your legs.

It was sweet and desperate and only made him even more drunk with want. Bucky blindly walked with his lips locked, wandering to find your bedroom. He bumped and crashed into everything till, finally, you broke the kiss with a desperate panting.

“Hallway, left door...”

“Right, right…” he says through lidded eyes before kissing and licking against your mouth once more.

The super speed must be one of his other abilities because before you knew it, you were in your bedroom, pushed against your wall as his tongue traced down the column of your throat. And his hands slide down from your waist to tease the hem of your shirt up. You run your fingers through his hair as he sucks along your collarbone, leaving his marks, waiting to finally feel his hands on your skin.

He’s so close. He wants to lift your shirt but hesitates. “Bucky, please, take it off... touch me…

Bucky feels weak from your desperate pleading. Wants to touch you, feel you, head into the crock of your neck, further getting fuck you. He rests his drunk on you. As you’re about to plead again, suddenly you’re lifted forward, and your shirt is ripped from your skin; your bra, bottoms, and panties couldn’t be saved, however, as he tears them off you.

With your clothes discarded, Bucky paints, staring down at your naked body reverently before hosting you up to kiss your soft breast and run his hot tongue over your nipples. Both his hands help pin you to the wall of the bedroom. The contrast of their touch is intoxicating. His warm flesh hand cupping and pinching your breast for his mouth to lick. While the cold of his metal arm keeps your legs spread, inching further to your aching core, making you moan in the excitement of that erotic pleasure of filling you with his cold fingers.

Your moaning is debauched and needy; you’re quick to cover your mouth to silence yourself, but Bucky needs to hear you. Bucky moves your hand from your lips, “No, I need to hear you screaming for me. Come on, Don’t hold back...

For added measure, his metal fingers finally brush through your pussy, dragging your slick all over your sex. It’s so cold it makes your nipples harden, and a shivering moan rip from your throat. He looks into your lidded eyes, memorizing every noise you make as he teases your quivering slit with his two fingers, Then harshly pinches your clit, making you jerk your hips.

“Never Imagined you would be so sensitive like this...” He rubs rough circles over your cunt, making you slam your head back against the wall as your grinding hips beg for more. “You like it there?” He says roughly into your ear before pinching your swollen pearl once more.

“Yes! Fuck yes! please, Bucky…”

He pulls his hand away from your sticky cunt, you whine from the loss of being so close, but your complaint dies in your throat as he licks his metal fingers shining from your arousal. “Ready, princess?”

You nod completely at his mercy. Bucky quickly lifts you further up the wall, putting your legs over his shoulders as his face noses into your puffy cunt. He really can do any position with you. Bucky’s nose rubs your clit, making your legs clamp, then his tongue licks a slow strip over your wet folds, making you say his name...

The sound of his name leaving your lips has him losing himself to taste more. Moving his tongue into your drooling cunt, trying to drink in every drop in and out, making your whole body ignite with a fever as your breaths come out in long surrendering moans. Lost in the passion, you grind your hips against his sinful tongue, losing your mind as he groans in approval.

You’re close to your peak, ready to let it snap and crash over you till loud slamming starts knocking against your wall... You feel Bucky growl, and you’re scared he’s going to stop... but instead, he moves his mouth to suck and nip at your clit, making you keen louder as he slams his fist against the wall back in what you’re considering a warning...

Sorry, Mrs. and Mr. Green... you will send over cookies… or not… You can’t care right now as the coil in your stomach tightens till a snap is felt in your veins, and an electric rush is aching through your whole body. Legs shaking, your body loses control as you cum all over Bucky’s eager tongue. Bucky lets you ride out your high over his tongue till it’s approaching overstimulation. He pulls away from you, his chin soaked, and as he lowers you down gently to your unsteady feet, you still see that hunger in his eyes, which still remains.

He whips his mouth before licking the remnants away from his hand, “Which position next?”

He asks with a smirk, and you feel another surge of heat burst through you to your “M-might be boring... but the bed?”

Bucky looks from you to your metal framed bed and chuckles, “Just don’t be mad if I break it...” - Wait. What?

You can’t ask for clarification on that last statement because Bucky is already turning you to the queen-sized bed with a quick tap to your ass. “Lay down and touch yourself for me...”

His honeyed voice instantly makes you feel needy as you fumble into the mattress, spreading your legs wide and slowly rubbing your clit as you watch Bucky strip. His skin is beautiful, scars and all... Immaculate is the best way you can describe him from his bulging muscles, chiseled abdomen... and his cock straining, already glistening at the tip. The noise that leaves your lips is involuntary and makes Bucky smile shyly as he removes his underwear. Bucky strides closer, keeping his eyes on your dripping cunt, “Oh, I love the sounds. Please keep them coming.”

He crawls over your body, completely overwhelming you with the heat, sight, and smell of him. Everything was now James Bucky Barnes, and it made you spread your legs wider for more. Bucky leans down, brushing your lips with his in a filthy kiss, “Tell me you want it, come on, Sweetheart... Please, I need to hear that sweet voice beg for me, for my cock…”

You feel yourself grinding on nothing just from the sound of his sweet desperation, “Bucky, please ... I need you... need you to fill me up…”

Bucky catches your hips in a bruising grip lifting them, forcing your back to arch as he lines up his thick length, “So good to me...” he says, almost in a daze, before his rubbing the tip of his cock up and down your slick before pushing into your tight cunt.

As Bucky's cock finally stretches you open, you wrap your arms tightly around his neck as the intense stretch makes you gasp in sweet agony. It's music to Bucky's ears as he takes his time pushing down each inch to the base, filling you completely. Your cunt clenches on his length, allowing you to feel every burning curve and vein as they rub your raw insides down to your cervix. The drooling tip of his cock licking against that tender spot inside you, forcing your toes to curl.

His thrust starts out as slow and soft before his breathing starts to pick up, and he slams his hips into you faster and faster. Your bed begins to squeak with a whine, but he keeps his pace steady and desperate for the sounds of your high-pitched moans as he moves in and out of your snug cunt.

Every thrust is hot and tingling as he alternates from fast and rough with his hand on your throat to soft, slow rolls of his hips hitting deep as he kisses you gently. It's all building to that familiar tensing you felt when he had you against the wall. Bucky starts to pick up his pace, holding your hip with one hand as the other grabs the metal frame, banging against the wall.

Your eyes roll from him being so deep, managing to open your eyes for a moment. You see Bucky flushed, with his eyes locked on yours, while he holds in his primal groans with each clench of your wet cunt. The sight makes you gasp, holding him tighter and bringing your legs to wrap around his waist. You move your hips in time with his thrust till your core starts to burn, and his groans form into delish moans that only strengthen your resolve to fuck against him faster.

Bucky's cock throbs as he kisses along your skin, his breath hot and frantic as it blows over your sweating skin. With a final thrust, you feel the white-hot wave of pleasure flood over you in an instant, It not only burns through your body but your mind as well till it is clouded in an orgasmic haze. Bucky shudders at the feeling of you cumming against his cock, with a moan that sounds almost like a whimper, his hips still, the throbbing more frantic like a heartbeat as you feel your cunt filled with thick squirts of cum. Looking up at him, so lost in his pleasure, he looks so soft, his eyes doe-like and lidded as his full lips are parted to allow him to gasp for short, stabilizing breaths. It's beautiful to see him this way.

You two stay still as you come down from your highs; Bucky slowly pulls out and lays his fevered body beside yours. He may not be in a full sweat... but there's definitely a sheen of it glazing his skin, and you feel pretty accomplished for wearing him down... even if it's only a little.

Bucky takes his time clearing the two of you up and getting you water. As he walks in with water for you, you notice he's brought in the book and the colorful tabs you lent him. He settles beside you, getting underneath the sheets and pulling you closer before opening the book where he left off; Bucky starts to read like you two didn't just have mind-blowing sex.

You keep watching him till he drifts his eyes from the pages to your face, "Yes?"

"You're really going to read right now? That's fine, but I'm surprised you're not exhausted."

Bucky laughs, "Well, I don't want to be late for our next meeting. Plus, this way, I can tab some more positions for us to try."

244 notes · View notes

glamourscat · 3 days ago

Text

FLOWERS? ISAGI YOICHI X READER

the bastard münchen vs pxg match HAS FINALLY ENDED. A lil (late Valentine’s) childhood bestie! x Isagi fic because I love him so much

Pathetic.

That’s how Isagi felt; truly and utterly pathetically in love.

It was foolish of him, really, falling for his childhood best friend. The one person who knew him better than anyone else, the one constant in his life. And yet, he had fallen anyway.

He had known you since before you could even string proper sentences together, back when the biggest problem in your tiny world was who got to play with the fluffy teddy bear. He had been there for every phase of your life, just as you had been for his.

The bad haircuts, the breakouts, the braces. The cringe stylistic choices that made you both groan whenever old pictures resurfaced. The triumphs and failures, the reckless dreams and harsh realities. Every best and worst moment you had been by each other’s side.

And because of that, maybe he should have realized sooner.

Your parents, his parents, had always teased. “You two will end up together eventually.” A statement so casual, so inevitable in their wise eyes. Maybe that was why he held back for so long. Maybe it was out of sheer defiance, or maybe it was the terrifying truth that you already saw him. Every flaw, every insecurity, every crack in his carefully built walls.

And yet, you still chose to stay.

To love someone who truly sees you, all of you, and still stays by your side? That scared the shit out of him.

But Blue Lock is over now. He felt like he had aged thirty years in that soccer prison, but it had been worth it. Because now, he was here. Walking freely through the streets with the weight of his dream in his hands. He was part of Japan’s World Cup team.

And you, his best friend, his everything, would be by his side, not just as his anchor but also as the team’s manager.

Isagi exhaled slowly, running a hand through his hair as he stared at the selection of flowers before him.

He had faced some of the greatest strikers in the world. Outwitted geniuses on the field. Fought, struggled, won.

And yet, confessing to you on Valentine’s Day? Felt like the biggest challenge he had to yet face.

“Roses are too much, right?” he mumbled under his breath, shifting his weight from foot to foot as he stared at the bouquets like they were an opposing team’s defensive lineup. Puzzle pieces hardly connecting in his brain. “I mean… yeah, they literally scream romance, but isn’t that kind of obvious? Too predictable? Shit.”

The old lady behind the counter glanced at him, unimpressed. She had seen countless lovesick fools in this exact position before, hell, today alone and Isagi fell right into that category.

Tulips? Too plain. Sunflowers? You might think he was calling you bright and cheerful, which—yeah, fair, but what if you took it as a joke? Lilies? What do lilies even mean?!

“You need help?” the florist finally asked, raising an eyebrow.

“No,” he admitted immediately. “I mean—yes? No. I’m just trying to figure out what flowers match a card that I, uh, may or may not have rewritten six times… as a valentines gift. Which turned out fine! I think. Maybe. Hopefully.”

The florist hummed, giving him a long, knowing look before glancing at the selection in front of her. “Alright, what kind of message are we going for here? Romantic? Sweet? ‘I’ve been in love with you since childhood and only just realized it because I’m a dumbass’?”

Isagi choked. “Why would you say it like that?!”

She gave him the flattest stare of his life. “Because that’s exactly what’s happening.”

He groaned, running a hand down his face. “Okay, yeah, fair point.”

The florist smirked before plucking a bouquet from the display. “Here. Go with these. A mix of daisies, lavender and forget-me-nots. It says you care, but you’re not coming on too strong. Subtle romance, but meaningful. Perfect for an idiot in denial.”

He took the bouquet, staring at it like it held the secrets of the universe. “Huh. Yeah. This… this actually works. How did you—”

“Experience, kid. Now go before you start overthinking again.”

Isagi nodded, clutching the flowers like they were the winning ball in a match. Alright. Flowers? Check. Card? Done—well, kind of. Cake? As good as it was gonna get.

Now, he just had to actually go back home and give them to you.

…Oh, shit.

This was really happening.

This might actually kill him.

He is pretty sure his heart is beating faster than the last goal he scored while playing for bastard münchen. He feels like throwing up. Was this normal? Probably not. But despite everything he wants you to know. He needs you to know that at the end of the day, pathetic or not, Isagi Yoichi is in love with you. And it was damn time he did something about it.

But for his luck, as he walked out of the flower shop, he almost crashed into someone.

“I am so—“ before he could even get the words out his soul almost came out of his body.

YOU. Out of everyone, you. In front of him. With a bouquet of flowers too. Wait, FLOWERS? Who— you…. Did— who gave you those?

“Yoichi” you say, words coming out slightly higher pitched than intended, trying to act normal, but you’re pretty sure the panicked expression you were trying to fight off with a smile came off more as you were constipated, more than anything else.

“Y/n” he says, seemingly unaware of your mental state, thankfully? Or maybe you should be worried that he was so oblivious to it.

“ Are you g—“

“Who— gave you those?” He said so quickly, not even allowing you to finish your sentence.

Your eyes fall to the flowers in your arms, if your cheeks weren’t red before, you’re pretty sure they are now.

“Who gave you those?” you say, nodding to the flowers he had in his arms. Trying to change the subject.

“I asked first.”

“I asked second”

A moment of silence before you two burst out laughing from the strange moment.

“Alright— alright. On the count of three? Together?” You says amused

One. Two. Three.

“I got them from you” you two say in unison.

AHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH.

That’s what his brain was screaming. He probably looked like an absolute moron, standing there with a confused expression and jaw open as he looked at you. Huh? Him? YOU GOT FLOWERS FOR HIM— AKCKEPWLCNGIVVIFNRNWPW.

“You— eh?”

That was it. That was all his brain could come up with. World-class striker, future ace of Japan, but the second you said you got flowers for him? Immediate system failure.

You smiled, shy but warm, the edges of your expression softening in that way that was playful yet so beautiful. It made his heart feel like it was about to spontaneously combust. “Yeah, you—is that so weird?”

Yes. No. Maybe. His brain was still rebooting.

“You—you got me flowers?” he repeated, as if the words might make more sense if he said them out loud.

“I mean, yeah,” you said, shifting your weight from foot to foot. The bouquet in your arms crinkled as you fidgeted with the wrapping. “It’s Valentine’s Day, isn’t it? I figured i had to be clear because you’re so dense sometimes.”

“I’m not dense!” he argued immediately.

You raised an eyebrow, unimpressed.

“Okay, fine. Maybe a little dense,” he admitted, scratching the back of his neck. His heartbeat pounded in his ears, drowning out the rest of the world. “But—wait, why did you…?”

The words hung heavy in the air. Why did you get me flowers?

You took a shaky breath. “Because I like you, idiot.”

“I—wait—what?” He blinked, gripping his bouquet tighter like it might hold him upright. “Like… like-like?”

“Damn… and you say you aren’t dense” a small snort left your lips. “Yes, like-like!” you huffed, but your voice trembled a little. “I’ve… kinda liked you for a while. And I figured—if I didn’t say anything today, I’d probably chicken out forever and cry myself to sleep for the next month. Maybe two.”

“You like me,” he repeated dumbly, trying to wrap his head around it.

You tilted your head, exasperated. “Yoichi, please tell me those flowers are for me or am I about to die of embarrassment right now?”

“What? NO—I mean, yes! Yes, I like you too!” The words practically exploded out of him, way louder than he meant to. “I’ve liked you since—God, I don’t even know when. Probably since that stupid teddy bear fight when we were kids.. And—” Lord, he is rambling now. “And I have made you a card. A beautiful one, I think you will like it. And a cake. Though I burnt it the first time. Maybe the second time too. But, fuck yes, I like you too”

For a second, neither of you said anything. You just stood there, two idiots clutching flowers, blushing like middle schoolers with their first crushes.

Finally, you exhaled, shaking your head as you tried not to laugh. “Wow. We’re really bad at this.”

“Yeah,” he agreed, grinning so wide his cheeks hurt. “But, like… at least we’re bad at it together?”

You rolled your eyes, but the teasing smile tugging at your lips was impossible to hide. “Together, huh?”

“I mean… if you want that. If you want me.” He said, trying not to look more giddy than he already is.

“I wouldn’t be standing here holding flowers and trying to not burst into flames after a confession that I definitely did not rehearse in my head twenty times for you if I didn’t, genius.”

In a rush of courage, Isagi moved closer and wrapped his arms around you, bouquets squished in between your guys’ chests. You smelled like warmth and home.

“Can I—uh,” he pulled back just enough to meet your gaze, “can I kiss you?”

“Yoichi, if you don’t kiss me after all that, I’ll start overthinking and we know—.”

He doesn’t need anything else. His smile shushed you, as his lips finally met yours in a kiss that was a bit messy, yet soft and sweet. You tasted like that tea you like so much. A mix of honey, flowers and sugar that makes him greedy for more. Despite being in the middle of the sidewalk and in retrospect, he will for sure be embarrassed about the pda later.

But that’s a problem for later. Because the realisation that fuck yes, he is finally kissing you, settles in. And for the first time that day, but perhaps in his entire life, his brain went completely and blissfully quiet.

209 notes · View notes

solxamber · 2 days ago

Note

For the Valentine’s Day event

Cater, Romantic, APT. by ROSÉ and Bruno Mars.

Specifically the lyrics

“Kissy face, kissy face sent to your phone, but I'm trying to kiss your lips for real”

Always excited for your content!

And don’t overwork yourself! :D

"Don't you want me like I want you" || Cater Diamond

𝐅𝐨𝐫 𝐦𝐲 𝐕𝐚𝐥𝐞𝐧𝐭𝐢𝐧𝐞'𝐬 𝐄𝐯𝐞𝐧𝐭

𝐒𝐨𝐧𝐠: APT. by ROSÉ and Bruno Mars

𝐖𝐨𝐫𝐝 𝐂𝐨𝐮𝐧𝐭: 760

𝐓𝐚𝐠𝐬: Mutual pining, Friends to Lovers

It starts, like most things with Cater, as a joke.

A playful nudge here, a winking emoji there — an endless game of Are we? Or aren’t we? that neither of you have ever bothered to define.

You’re both out of NRC now, graduated and trying to figure out what adulthood means — which, for you, seems to be juggling work, friendships, and whatever this is with Cater.

It’s never been serious, not really.

Because Cater doesn’t do serious. He’s all smiles and filters and perfectly crafted captions. He’s the kind of person who knows exactly how to flirt without ever letting it get too real, like love is something that only happens on the other side of a camera lens.

But then there’s you.

And, well… you like to push buttons.

It’s a game between you.

A push and pull, a dance along the line of something real—so close to crossing, but never quite.

The stolen moments stretch between you: a lingering touch when you pass him something, a glance that holds too long before one of you looks away. The way your voice gets softer when you say his name, like it’s something precious, something that belongs only to you.

And Cater… Cater tells himself it’s fine.

It’s fine if you never say anything, because he’s good at this. At pretending. At keeping things light and easy, at making sure no one ever sees the part of him that wants.

But sometimes, it gets hard.

Like when you call him late at night, your voice warm and sleepy, saying, “Hey, you’re still up, right?”—and he always is, even when he wasn’t before.

Or when you lean into his space without thinking, close enough that he could just tilt his head and—

But no.

You don’t cross the line.

So he won’t either.

Until one afternoon, when the line between flirting and something more starts to blur.

It’s one of those lazy Sundays — the kind where the sky’s too blue and the breeze too warm to do anything productive. You’re at Cater’s place, sprawled out on his couch, scrolling through your phone while he fiddles with the playlist.

“Hey,” he calls from the other side of the room. “What do you think of this one?”

A sultry beat hums from the speakers — something slow and sweet, a little too romantic for a playlist that's supposedly just background noise.

You raise an eyebrow. “Feeling a bit sappy today, Diamond?”

Cater winks. “What can I say? I’m a man of many layers.”

You roll your eyes but your heart skips a beat — because that’s what he does to you. Makes you laugh, makes you want, makes you wonder if this little game you’re playing is ever going to end.

He flops down next to you, close enough that his thigh brushes against yours. He’s still grinning, but there’s something else in his eyes — a flicker of something that makes your stomach flip.

“You know,” he says, voice light but careful, “for all the kissy face emojis you send me… kinda rude you’ve never actually kissed me.”

Your brain short-circuits.

It’s not like Cater hasn’t said things like this before — he’s always toeing the line, always dangling his words just far enough out of reach that you can’t grab onto them.

But this time feels different.

This time, his voice is a little too soft. His smile is a little too real.

And maybe it’s the playlist or the lazy afternoon sun or the weeks of almost piling up in your chest — but before you can stop yourself, you lean in.

And kiss him.

Not a quick peck. Not a flirty brush of lips.

A kiss. Slow, lingering — the kind that tastes like every unsaid word between you.

For a second, Cater doesn’t move. His brain seems to short-circuit just like yours did, frozen with wide eyes and parted lips.

But then — oh.

Then his hand slides to your waist, his other hand tilting your chin up as he kisses you back, just as slow, just as deep.

And it’s not a joke this time.

When you finally pull away, breathless and a little dizzy, Cater just stares at you.

“Uh,” he says, voice hoarse, “was that… to prove a point or…?”

You burst out laughing, forehead dropping to his shoulder. “Shut up.”

He’s laughing too, but there’s a softness to it now — a sweetness underneath the usual teasing. His fingers are still resting on your waist, like he’s afraid to let go.

“So…” he starts again, and for once, his voice wavers. “Are we… still just flirting, or…?”

You tilt your head, biting your lip — the same playful glimmer in your eyes. “I don’t know, Diamond. Wanna kiss me again and find out?”

Cater laughs, breathless. “Yeah,” he whispers. “Yeah, I think so.”

You grin, and it’s the same smile he’s always loved—the one that makes him feel like the world isn’t so scary after all.

And this time, when he leans in, he doesn’t hesitate.

Masterlist ; Valentine's Event

#ˋ°•*⁀➷ valentine's event #twst #twst x reader #twisted wonderland x reader #twisted wonderland #cater x reader #cater diamond x reader #cater diamond #cater #twst cater

181 notes · View notes

ladyloveandjustice · 2 days ago

Text

I mean, Legend of Lattes did have a conflict, her coffee place straight up burned down? It wasn't a major focus for most of the book but it happened.

I've only read a few cozy fantasy things, and didn't find a few of them super memorable myself, but the definition of cozy fantasy is pretty broad from what I've seen. Emily Wilde is categorized as that and it is FULL of conflict and action and has some great and memorable characters.

But people have always liked stuff that's low tension/stakes/fluffy. See coffee shop aus in fanfic, or fanfic tagged fluff. See slice of life anime where characters are just hanging out. It's not a new thing. People have always wanted to watch or read things that just give cozy vibes and allow them to hang out with characters. The book industry realizing there was a market for that was inevitable. If it's not for you, it's not for you, but it's obviously for someone or it wouldn't be doing well.

I also think this is a good example of how condescending we can get when talking about a genre we don't like. Rather than say "it's not for me, I don't find the characters memorable and want better stakes, maybe there should be more variety" (which was more where OP was at) it has to be somehow bad for people to read it and write it. like...

And so sometimes it feels impossibly challenging to write any book except one where nothing bad happens and nothing is in danger and nobody is really bothered or worried about anything and everything is mostly fine and there aren't any major setbacks…..

That is a hell of a condescending assumption to make about those writers. Jesus. I'm a professional author too, but I would not want to make these assumptions about my fellow writers.You don't know if they're doing it because it's easy, or if they're doing it because they felt there was a need for it, or it was just an idea they liked writing. You don't like it, great. That doesn't mean those writers are slacking off or doing something wrong somehow. You don't know that they don't also write books with tension and conflict. I feel like most of them probably have, actually. Assuming they sat down and thought "omg this will be easy I'm so lazy" is just...do you make the same assumption about romance writers? It can get pretty formulaic, but that doesn't mean it's easy to write. Have you tried to write a cozy fantasy and sell it and make it do well? If not, I don't think you should talk about how easy it is.

But that leaves readers cold.

I mean not all readers obviously, since it wouldn't be doing well or selling well?

And frankly, I don't feel like it does much of anything to nourish either our souls or theirs.

It feels like eating a bag of potato chips for dinner instead of going to the effort of even just heating up a frozen dinner that has a vegetable in it.

Why does reading HAVE to "nourish your soul", whatever that means? What's wrong with eating a bag of potato chips? You teach college, so I wonder if you've ever run into a colleague who thinks this way about regular fantasy and sci-fi. Where they think that genre fiction is inherently more disposable and less challenging than literary fiction. I've sure as hell run into those professors, that look down on readers and writers of "commercial fiction", and I've seen the bad impact they have on their students. Do you agree with them? Because you're sounding a lot like them right now. This is the exactly the kind of argument they'd make.

You don't know whether these people don't also read books with more stakes or a variety of genres as well. Low effort reading has it's place, it just maybe shouldn't be the only thing you read if you want to actually experience the breadth of literature.

And I see this a lot in the book community, but dissing the stuff people are into and saying they need to challenge themselves more or they won't be smart like you (I see this with YA a lot too) is not going to convince them. It frames reading as a chore, and people often don't like doing chores in a life full of them, and reading is a hobby for a lot of people. Rather that say "you need to read this to better your mind" say what can be interesting or intriguing about these books that are more challenging, what kind of cool things you can get from them. Sometimes it seems to me like the point of these arguments is to feel superior, rather than actually convince people.

Nothing's wrong with reading low effort books or watch low effort shows--it's when say, a YA reader says books are inherently flawed if they don't spell things out like YA sometimes does or has more challenging themes. Or a cozy fantasy reader acting like all books should be cozy fantasy and books with tension are bad. Those are the people that ruin the discourse. But, doing the inverse isn't any better.

idk, man. I've taught university classes about this shit, but what do I know.

I teach grad school classes on writing, (I don't like to pull that card, since it's not like teachers can't have flawed ideas about their subject but since we're here) and have taught similar lessons. Yet, here's what I think I do know: telling students the genre they write is wrong is not something a teacher should do. Those literary fiction professors love doing that, and I'm not them.

As a teacher with a variety of students in a variety of genres, I have to read genres I don't like all the time--god I hate most 'dark romance' and man do I not get or like omegaverse, but I sure as hell had to read both. But just because I don't like them doesn't mean they're worthless, or there isn't a market for them, or it's wrong to write them. So I put those feelings aside, think about what kind of help the student needs to be successful in their chosen genre, and what the audience would want, because that will help them improve. (though I do try to hint if something seems like, incredibly sexist, that maybe we should reconsider that, or look at it from all angles and decide if it's something the story needs). And at the same time, I do teach them basic lessons on how to structure a story, and what's good about conflict, stakes, etc.

But I wouldn't tell any of them they're wrong for writing cozy fantasy even if it's not always my cup of tea, because there is a market for it, and I want them to do well at it and do what they love. What pays the bills pays them, and if you actually like what you do, that's also important. Writers do need to challenge themselves, which is why I encourage students to be open minded about all genres, try out writing them, try writing different POVs, different stuff even if they don't publish it, because that can only help them get better at what they do. But if what they publish is cozy fantasy, hey, it gets them good money and they like doing it, that's more than I can say for most jobs.

Cozy Fantasy and Why It Doesn't Work

I think I am among many who feel like they should love cozy fantasy and have found it an incredibly lacking genre.

This newly branded "cozy fantasy" genre that has taken readers by storm since 2020 and while it is new that books are now marketed as cozy, the genre itself isn't new. Howl's Moving Castle by Diana Wynne Jones is a great example of the genre before it was labeled and also how to make it work.

Cozy fantasy is defined by many as fantasy with low stakes. Fantasy aesthetic but less sword fights. On paper, it sounds great. But the execution has been less than stellar for readers like me. The lack of physical stakes has also impacted the emotional stakes of these books, creating forgettable characters with boring problems. As a romance reader, I find this frustrating. Romance is known for being a predictable and formulaic genre, the now defunct Romance Writers of America defined romances as needing happy endings, a term romances have continued to follow. Yet these romance texts manage to have low physical stakes (how to date your neighbor, how to confront your toxic friends, etc) while still maintaining high personal stakes that keep readers invested and begging for more. So I was initially confused why cozy fantasy authors struggle to write texts that connect to readers like me.

I think I have found the answer which is the genre is just here for vibes. It is all about aesthetic, not even worldbuilding that fantasy is known for as most cozy fantasy I read have so many problems as soon as you ask one question. It is hard to acknowledge that a genre that is pitched to work for readers like me doesn't work for many of us. Especially because occasionally there is one that works beautifully to my taste.

I often say my favorite cozy fantasies that are more contemporary are short and visual, which I plays into the idea of the genre being an aesthetic. The Bakery Dragon by Devin Elle Kurtz is a good example because it is a simple story that is given the perfect amount of pages and gorgeous visuals without dragging on when the message is very clear and easy to understand. Books like The Phoenix Keeper and Legends and Lattes have absolutely nothing for me, their very clear message hitting the reader over and over so the readers don't miss it and focusing on the aesthetic of worldbuilding rather than the reality of the fantastic elements within the world.

I guess my point is. . . I realize this genre isn't for me since I have realized it is more of an aesthetic than anything. .. .but I want it to be. Should I let it go and put my efforts elsewhere? Or should I keep exploring this new trend and find the hidden gems?

#writing #book talk #sorry...sometimes the tone of a thing gets to me even if i also don't care for the subject

6K notes · View notes

yailtsv · 11 hours ago

Note

Reader/Paige where Paige is a Secret admirer and leaves notes and little gifts to the reader(like from the 1st to the 14th) eventually leading up to a Valentines Day Date where Paige is waiting all nervous hoping the reader shows and they both can admit feelings towards each other. Very fluffy

Secret Admirer - p.b

💌 Syn: you have a secret admirer that just so happens to be your best friend

»»— warnings: none i don’t think

»»— notes: i’m really proud of this one 🙃 i’ve also never watched the notebook i just know it’s considered a romance movie so i went with it 🤷‍♀️

»»— word count: 2.7k

»»— pair: Paige x Gf!reader

the last 13 days have been weird for you as one could say. it started with a bouquet of roses outside your dorm room with a note that just said "from: your secret admirer" and that was on the first of february.

the 2nd day was a gaint stuffed bear outside your dorm room - like the gaint ones you would get at costco but not exactly those bears as this one is a stuffed panda bear. there was no note for this one.

the third day was a assortment of valentines balloons and a box of iced cookies and chocolate dipped strawberries with a note that said "to the most beautiful girl - your secret admirer"

the next 10 days got even freakier. you got multiple different jewelry options on different days, you got your favorite things in a basket one day, you got a build a bear one day with it already named and everything, you got at least 3 more bouquets all different colors and all different flowers, and on the 13th you received a box full of letters - like actually hand written love letters

you were going absolutely crazy. you couldn't figure out who it was but you knew it had to of been someone you were close to because they knew all of your preferences and likes/dislikes or i guess maybe you we're getting stalked right now

you're picky with your jewelry and they knew that somehow. all of the jewelry was picked and created the way you like all of your jewelry to be. not to mention you literally received a basket full of your favorite snacks,foods, smell good things, and clothing brands.

since the first day of february you have been going around asking all of your friends if it was them with all of them looking at you confused and saying no. someone had to of been lying, there was absolutely no way not one of them knew what was going on.

the letters you received on the 13th were your 13th reason - this was probably your biggest crash out

you were honestly starting to believe all your friends - that they had no idea what was going on, and you we're starting to panic

what if i have a stalker?

what if i am being watched right now?

do i need to call the cops?

those were only some of the thoughts running around in your head. your friends weren't helping either, they were only calling you dramatic and to live a little.

"you're getting expensive jewelry and gifts for free, just take it" one of your friends had told you after you told her you we're starting to get concerned

that did not ease any of your concerns. after you got back to the dorms from class you decided to study the letters and see what you could find out about your "secret admirer" - which was absolutely nothing other than they're down right in love with you.

while reading one of the letters there was a knock at your door making you look up towards that door and eventually stand up to open said door - only to see nobody there...like at all

you were about to close the door when a box on the ground caught your attention, making your breath hitch but slowly and hesitantly grab the box anyway and make your way back into the safety of your dorm - behind the closed and locked door obviously

when opening the box you come face to face with a beautiful white dress with puffy see-through sleeves, a pair of white red bottom high heels, and a note

come to the park tomorrow night @ 6:30 and wear this.

don't be scared, you know me.

- your secret admirer

you don't know wether to be relieved or more terrified. "don't be scared, you know me" could mean that you do actually know this person and they are your friend or it could mean that someone's been watching you enough to know that you're starting to get creeped out and want to make sure that you show up to the park.

you pull out the dress and the heels setting them on your desk when you see another note in the box

you once accidentally in high school spilt your drink all over your math teachers white pants and he gave you detention for a week.

-your secret admirer that's not a creepy stalker

you laughed at the signed name before remembering the other part of the note - there are only a few people that know that secret as you were really embarrassed about the whole situation, and those people are your immediate family ....and paige your best friend since high school

wait is paige my secret admirer? no she can't be. but she's the only other person that knows that. but there is absolutely no way paige is my secret admirer right?

you didn't sleep much that night. you were going back and forth with your brain wether paige was your secret admirer or not but your decided you were gonna go to the park that night

you couldn't keep questioning everything without getting answers and now? the answers are gonna be directly handed to you tonight, - obviously with your location on and sent to your mom and 9-1-1 on speed dial

it's finally time to leave. for the last few hours you've paced, showered, did your hair and makeup, paced some more, got dressed, paced, added jewelry and other accessories, talked your self out of going, talked your self back into going and left the house before you could change your mind again

you took your time in walking to the park, as one you were obviously wearing heels right now, and two your anxiety is skyrocketing right now

you spent the walk to the park thinking of everything. all the gifts, all the words in the letters, the note with your secret, your friends reactions, all of it, trying to figure out if maybe your secret admirer was paige.

it would make sense as she knows you better than anyone. she knows how you prefer your jewelry - which not a lot of people do, she knows ALL of your favorite foods and snacks, she knows all your favorite brands - not just your favorite type of clothes, the actual clothing brand, she knows how much you love stuffed animals, and how much you appreciate hand written letters

she knows everything about you, so her being your secret admirer would be a reasonable thought.

but you still can't wrap your head around that thought. you've been in love with paige since sophomore year of high school, you've just never said anything because you were scared of ruining the friendship + you didn't think she liked you back. you've been dating trashy men this whole time to hide your feelings for paige, but know it might not have been necessary?

you've snuck glances at her while she wasn't looking for years.

you've been her own personal cheerleader for years.

you've watched her in awe for years.

you've worn her jersey to games as a way to support her for years - but really you were also doing it for you, wearing her jersey or clothes in general felt safe to you, unlike wearing your then boyfriends clothes. they gave you a sense of comfort that you were scared to ask of her. you could be having a bad day and put on one of her hoodies and it feels like a soft bear hug from her - without actually getting the hug. the clothes are always a little oversized on you and no matter if she wore it last week or a month ago, it still has the faint smell of her. you could ask to borrow her clothes but you were scared to ask for a hug or comfort from her in general.

you've been her number 1 fan for everything she does for years. she does no wrong in your eyes. if she's the reason the ball didn't go in during a game your not gonna admit that. your gonna say it was the other girls fault even if you and her both know that's not true, because that's your way of comforting her. she knows your never gonna blame her for stuff including the small meaningless things like wether she's the reason the ball went in or not.

so after years of yearning for her love, her comfort, her attention, having her be your secret admirer feels like a dream you need to wake up from.

walking into the park you see an area lit up with fairy lights and candles nearby and start heading towards that

when you get closer you see a giant pink and white blanket on the ground with a picnic basket in the middle. wine glasses and wine on a small tray, a big wooden basket filled with what appears to be gifts, and a car parked just a few steps away with the trunk door open with fairy lights and a heart banner hanging from the door. the backseats were down and multiple blankets covering the seats with a few pillows

there also seemed to be a pile of clothes folded on top on the blanket made bed. "hey" you hear from the left making you turn your head to see paige walking out from behind a large tree with a bouquet of pink and purple flowers

"hey" you say back in a kinda relived tone "i know you probably have some questions so i'm just gonna start talking, first these are for you" she says nervously before walking closer to you and handing the flowers over to you, with you taking them "they're beautiful, thank you" you say after sniffing the flowers

"of course. um ok so i'm just gonna be straight up and say it. i love you. i'm in love with you. i have been ever since high school i was just scared to say it. i feel like now that we are both adults we're running out of time with our time together and i don't want that. i mean i'm entering the draft this year and am moving to texas, your going wherever your career takes you. we are both growing up and going down somewhat different paths. which is why i can't be scared to admit my feelings anymore. i'm definitely scared of you rejecting me but i can't be high school me anymore. that's not gonna get me anywhere other than losing you. i might still lose you after this but at least i won't be living in question wether you like me back or not."

"paig-" you try to say but get cut off "i'm not done. for years i've watched you get played,hurt, cheated on, mistreated, by guys that have no idea how much of an amazing person you are. they didn't know that they were losing a person that would drop everything for them, they didn't know that they were losing someone that would do anything for them, and every time you came to my room crying about the pain they caused you, i just wanted to wrap you in my arms and protect you from the world. show you how your supposed to be treated, buy you the flowers that they didn't think you deserved, buy you the gifts that they didn't want to spend their money on, give you all the attention,love, comfort, that they refused to give you. i don't want to watch you go through that again, i want to be to the one to buy you flowers, to buy you expensive things, to show you love because what they were showing you definitely wasn't love. i want to wake up beside you and be able to kiss you whenever and tell you i love you everyday-"

you set down the bouquet and run over to paige, immediately bringing her lips to yours in a rough passionate kiss

you pulled away for air first with paige chasing your lips before you put your hand on her chest "i love you so much. i've been in love with you since sophomore year of high school"

paige giggles at that confession "if only we communicated in high school right?" she says with an amused tone before pulling you back into her but this time the kiss was soft and gentle, saying the remaining words paige didn't get to say.

after the love confessions you and paige ate the food she packed and talked for awhile before paige saw you starting to shiver

"cmon" she says standing up and holding her hands out for you "what? where we going?" you asked while she pulled you up

she didn't answer and instead just pulled you to the car and handed you one of the stacks of clothes and grabbed a blanket holding it up

"get dressed in those, i'm gonna hold the blanket up and look away" you don't question her and do as she says, getting dressed in the way to long sweatpants and oversized hoodie that still smells like paige

"alright i'm done" you say making paige put down the blanket "get in the trunk and get comfy, im gonna go pick up our stuff" she says setting the blanket down "i can help?" you say watching her as she turned back around from walking towards the picnic area "nope, get comfy in the trunk, i'll be back." paige says before walking away

you just shake your head with an amused smile on your face but listen to her anyway and get in the trunk and under one of the blankets. you can see her grabbing all the stuff and then eventually made her way back to the car - putting all the stuff in the drivers seat before moving back to the trunk area, taking off the lights and heart banner on the outside of the car as there was some lights she hooked up around the inside of the car too - so you guys still had light

she then gets in the trunk herself, shutting the trunk door and handing you her ipad "find a movie or something for us to watch" you take the ipad from her and put the password in going to netflix

from the corner of your eye you can see her take off her open button up shirt and crop top leaving her in her bra before she puts on a team usa hoodie then also changing from her jeans to a matching pair of sweatpants

you look back towards the ipad before she sees you were definitely checking her out - deciding on the notebook

she takes her outfit she just took off and shoes putting them in the passenger seat before grabbing your dress and heels and doing the same

"did the heels fit good?" she asks while also going under the blanket and getting comfortable "yeah, but if you're gonna buy me stuff i'm putting you on a budget. today, plus the outfit, plus all the gifts leading up to today must've cost you a fortune." you say as she went onto her side, and grabbed the ipad putting it on the side of the car door in front of you

"how about i worry what i spend my money on and you enjoy being spoiled? cause i ain't gonna stop spoiling you." she says while wrapping her arm around your waist and turning you so your also on your side - with your back to her chest

you just shake your head amused before she reaches over and starts the movie. during the intro you and her both moved a little bit to get more comfortable before cuddling into each other more

halfway during the movie you could basically feel paige's nerves - for what reason? you have no idea so you just reach up and hold her hand that's above your head - as her arm is acting as a pillow right now

paige leans her head closer to your ear "will you be my girlfriend?" you turn your head before turning your whole body to face her and look into her eyes

you lean up and gently cradle her face in your hands and bringing her face to yours and giving her another passionate kiss

"yes i'll be your girlfriend"

🏷️ @melpthatsme @rebecca-woso @authentic-girl03 @ldapper

#paige bueckers x reader #uconn x reader #paige bueckers x fem!reader #paige x reader #paige bueckers fic #yailtsv’s works 📝

145 notes · View notes

shurisneakers · 3 days ago

Text

unsolved (ix)

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, groups of people that believe in the paranormal

A/N: im sorry i disappeared i am employed now and also i am depressed. anyway pls lemme know what u guys think i love reading comments and screaming and everything you have to say MWAH. next one is a big one boys

Previous part || Series masterlist

Bucky wakes up to a weary, bone-deep sense of dread.

Not the kind of dread that means a sniper is lurking outside his window. No, this is a very specific kind of dread that sets in suddenly, altogether at once.

He knows exactly what it means.

You are about to ruin his day.

His eyes flicker open, adjusting to the light filtering through his windows.

The floor is quiet. Too quiet, almost.

Alpine is curled on the windowsill, tail flicking idly. But he finds her staring at him already with mild judgment, as if she knows exactly what’s about to happen.

Bucky rubs a hand down his face, exhaling. He doesn’t know why he feels like this, because you’d taken to simply texting him the location these days, and then banging on his door.

It was routine. He’d come to expect it. Like it, even, the way someone likes mundane sounds such as the buzz of the microwave heating up their lunch everyday.

Except there’s a sudden, loud slam against his window.

Alpine launches off the windowsill, scrambling away with a hiss.

Bucky is out of bed before his brain catches up. Years of instinct launch him into motion as he grips the knife under his pillow, pivots toward the sound–

And sees you.

Hovering. Three stories up.

Waving.

Bucky full-body recoils and it takes everything in him not to launch his fucking knife at the window.

He glares at you, barely awake, trying to process the absolute absurdity of this moment.

You tap your wrist like a watch, mouthing, "Video shoot."

Bucky turns around and launches a pillow at the window, furiously mouthing back, “I hope you fall.”

You grin.

His furiousness turns to raging annoyance at best. Which, in turn, makes him angry again.

Just as he’s about to throw something heavier, FRIDAY dims the window until you fade from view. He doesn’t know who FRIDAY is protecting.

Bucky collapses back onto his mattress.

He contemplates ignoring you again, but experience has taught him that only makes things worse.

Five minutes later, he’s stomping down the stairs.

Bucky yanks open the car door and slides into the passenger seat.

Wordlessly, he shoves a coffee in your direction.

You blink at it. “How do you know my coffee order?”

Bucky grunts. “Do you want it or not?”

You take it, narrowing your eyes as you watch him chug it like it’s water. “Coffee doesn’t even work on you. Why do you drink it?”

He pauses mid-sip.

You tilt your head. "Do you even like the taste?"

Bucky slowly stares at the coffee like it personally wronged him, because no, he’s coming to realise that didn’t really like it.

“…No,” he allows slowly.

“Then why are you drinking it?”

His grip tightens around the cup. He doesn’t have a good answer, so he doesn’t look at you.

“Bought it,” he grumbles. ‘M gonna drink it.”

“Sunken cost fallacy, right there,” you hum. “You bought it, so now you have to suffer through it. That’s a weird thing you do, y'know.”

Bucky exhales sharply, already done with this conversation. “It’s just coffee.”

“It’s just coffee,” you agree, watching him out of the corner of your eye. “And you just can’t let yourself pick something else. You a glutton for punishment?”

He scowls, taking another sip of the stupid beverage he didnt expect to be having a crisis over in the evening.

"Whole world of warm drinks out there, Barnes. You ever tried chai? A matcha? You could be a matcha guy."

"No."

"You could be drinking hot chocolate. I think you'd like that. Marshmallows and everything.”

Bucky grips his cup harder.

"Hell, even warm lemonade would be a better choice."

Bucky scrunches his nose at the thought of warm lemonade and chugs his coffee out of spite.

You shake your head. “Whatever. Drink your hot bean water then.”

Silence stretches. The car hums down the highway. The weight of whatever he’s been avoiding lingers in the air between you.

Only five minutes later does it occur to him to ask.

“Where are we going?”

You shoot him a wide smile. “To make you some friends.”

Bucky closes his eyes. “I have friends.”

“You have Sam. And Steve.”

“Sam and Steve are enough.”

“Sam and Steve are legally obligated to be your friends.”

Bucky side-eyes you. “That’s not how friendship works.”

“You’d be surprised.”

He groans, dragging a hand down his face. "Is this another haunted house? ‘Cause if it is, I'm staying in the car."

"No haunted house."

"Then what?"

You drum your fingers on the wheel. "We're going to check out the fastest-growing paranormal club in the city."

Bucky exhales through his nose, mentally preparing himself.

"What’s the scam?" he deadpans.

"No scam." You pause. "Well, maybe a little scam. But I’m choosing to believe in the inherent goodness of humanity."

Bucky glances at you. “What kind of scam?”

“Maybe you’ll find yourself today, y’know? Maybe you’ll even be a treasured member of this club.”

Bucky leans all the way back in his seat, shutting his eyes before he has an aneurysm.

The location is exactly as sketchy as Bucky expected.

Which, to be clear, is very.

A run-down community center at the edge of the city, sandwiched between a failing laundromat and a storage facility that definitely has bodies in it.

The parking lot has three cars, two of which are missing doors. The third is a white van with no plates.

Bucky stares at it. “I’m staying in the car.”

“No, you’re not.”

“You can get your organs harvested. I’m not in the mood for that today.”

“We are not getting our organs harvested.”

“We are about to walk into a situation that requires a white van with no plates.”

You tap the steering wheel. “You’re focusing on the wrong details.”

“Oh? What fuckin’ details should I be focusing on?”

You refuse to make eye contact. “I will not be taking questions at this time.”

A sign by the door says:

WELCOME, SEEKERS OF THE TRUTH.

Bucky points at it. “What the fuck is that?”

“They’re just seekers, Buck.” You unbuckle. “They’re seeking. Let them seek.”

“That’s not what that means.”

“They have over five hundred members in their Facebook group.”

Bucky rubs a hand down his face. “The Boogeyman fan club has eight thousand, so what?”

“Okay, but to be fair— Boogeyman’s hot.”

Bucky stares at you.

You stare back, unblinking.

“Do you want me to respond to that?”

“Only if you agree.”

Bucky inhales slowly, counting to ten.

Still, he gets out of the car. Because he always does.

The guy at the door looks exactly like someone who would be enthusiastic about this kind of thing. Whatever it was.

Late twenties, cargo pants, black t-shirt, and… a cape. He stands in the doorway like he’s personally responsible for deciding who gets to know the truth.

Bucky is already exhausted.

You, however, are delighted.

“Hi!” you chirp, walking up to him. “We’re The Gra–”

Instead, the guy squints. “Hold on. I know you. You’re from TV.”

“Uh, yeah, he is–” you glance at Bucky, who glares at you for throwing him under the bus, but it’s not like you had been set up for interviews just yet or had any major public saves like the Battle of Earth. You operated on a scale similar to Spiderman until now. The Avengers were really just your first big corporate job.

“No, I recognise you,” he looks pointedly at Bucky, before narrowing his eyes. “You got no reason to be out here–”

A few years ago Bucky’s shoulders would have tensed immediately, already bracing for the inevitable Winter Soldier comment.

“Hey now,” you force a smile onto your face.

“--showing your face in public,” the guy continues, gearing up.

“Okay,” Bucky says, because he’s dealt with enough of public vitriol to really have it faze him anymore.

You prepare to take a step in front of him, body stiff. “Now let’s not get–”

“After breaking her heart like that? Shame on you.”

Bucky blinks. You also blink, steps halting.

“I’m sorry, whose heart?” he asks, looking between you and the guy.

The guy snaps his fingers. "You're the one on that show. Love Island, aren’t ya?”

Bucky’s entire soul exits his body.

He blinks. Once. Twice.

He processes the words and does not fucking understand them.

The guy nods, like he’s just cracked a case. “Yeah. My girlfriend fucking hates you, bro.”

Bucky opens his mouth. Closes it. Opens it again.

You, on the other hand, look like this is the greatest single living moment of your life. “Oh my god, Barnes.”

Bucky looks to the sky for help. None arrives.

“What the fuck is a Love Island?”

The guy crosses his arms. “Deny it all you want, man. But we all saw what you did to Lulu.”

“I was literally a prisoner of war for seventy years.”

“And yet,” you say, eyes twinkling with evil delight, “you still had time to emotionally devastate a woman named Lulu on national television.”

Bucky turns to you, betrayed. “Who the fuck is Lulu?”

The guy shakes his head in disappointment. “Shame on you, man.”

You clap the guy on the shoulder. “You’re so right– what’s your name? Troy? You’re so right, Troy. Bucky here thinks just because he has a pretty face and a rockin’ bod, he can break hearts without consequences.”

“What the fuck is a Love Island?” Bucky asks in despair.

“Ashamed of what gave you your fame?” You click your roof to the top of your mouth. “People would do anything for the opportunity to be shirtless on a beach for three months–”

“Someone tell me what the fuck a Love Island is.” Bucky drags a palm across his face.

“It’s not you? Oh.” Troy deflates, glancing at you instead. “Are you the one from Love Island then?”

“I wish.” You pull your lips into a straight line. “Some people just aren’t grateful for the chance they’re given.”

“Oh wait. I recognise you, you're from that ghost show.” He brightens up again, wagging his finger at you. “My niece loves you.”

You nudge Bucky in excitement at the news, as if you hadn’t induced fifteen years worth of self-hatred into him twenty seconds ago. “Tell your niece she's got great taste.”

He nods briefly. “So, what are you doing here?”

“We heard this is the fastest-growing paranormal group in the city. Just wanted to check it out.”

The guy perks up immediately. “Oh yeah! The Ghost’s energy is real strong tonight. Dennis said he’s been slamming Monster Energy all day, so the vibes are there, man.”

Bucky’s expression does not change. “Who is Dennis?”

“Our medium.”

You nod sagely. “Of course.”

“He’s got a newsletter. You wanna subscribe?”

“Gee, I sure do,” Bucky says dryly.

You elbow him. “We wanted to join the club first.”

“Alright,” he chirps. “I’m sure Dennis won't mind. Meeting starts in ten minutes. You can grab your cloaks by the door and head on in.”

Bucky stops. “Cloaks?”

“Yeah, it's imperative to the Ghost that we dress the same.”

“Absolutely fucking–”

“Don't worry about him, he's only upset that he didn't get to bring his own cloak,” you interject immediately. “It came free with his coffin and some sunscreen.”

Bucky steps on your foot. You give him a small kick.

“Alright, well, you can have ours. It’s usually five bucks each but I’ll let it slide if you sign something for my niece,” Troy says. “If you're filming, please keep the flash off.”

“You got it, boss,” you salute.

The guy shrugs. “Meeting starts in ten. You can drink from the chalice and head on in.”

Bucky immediately locks onto that second part. “The what?”

The guy pulls out a black goblet filled with dark red liquid.

Bucky immediately takes a step back.

The guy holds it out. “It’s the Ghost’s essence. Dennis prepares it before every meeting.”

Bucky and you stare at it.

You lean in, sniffing inconspicuously. “What ingredients are in the Ghost’s… essence?”

The guy shrugs. “Dunno. Dennis just goes into a room, talks to the Ghost for a bit, and comes back with this. It’s different every time.”

Bucky’s stare is flat. “Oh yeah. That’s normal.”

“Here, try.”

Bucky does not move. “I’m allergic.”

“To what?”

“Yes.”

The guy frowns. “You haven’t even tasted it–”

“I’m allergic,” Bucky repeats. “Real bad. Death and everything.”

You nod solemnly. “I already had some.”

The guy blinks. “You did?”

“Yep, just couldn't help myself. Found some around here and I felt the Ghost really call to me.” You beam rather convincingly.

“I think it’s calling to you again, you should try some more,” Bucky tells you.

“Nope. Had plenty. Gotta save some for the others,” you say loudly, kicking his foot again. “It was great, though. Ghost tastes great– I mean, got great taste.”

“Well in that case, here’s your cloak and you can head on in,” he smiles at you before turning to Bucky. “You’ll have to pay, though.”

Bucky’s face scrunches. “I’m in the fuckin’ show too.”

“So you are from Lo–”

“I was not on Love Island,” he declares definitely.

“Right,” he drags, like he doesn’t quite believe him. “Five bucks.”

Bucky stares at him. Troy smiles right back.

Bucky grumbles, relenting as he reaches out into his pocket to shell out five dollars.

Bucky had taken the mandatory black cloak with all the enthusiasm of someone being handed a parking ticket.

You, on the other hand, are already swirling yours around your shoulders like you’re about to perform a monologue.

“Personally, I’m not too fond of the silhouette, but it’s fine for a last-minute fit, I guess.” You adjust the hood, pulling it low over your eyes before striking a pose. “Do you think I look cute?”

Bucky blinks. He wasn’t expecting the question. His brain short-circuits almost immediately.

You tilt your head, waiting.

He cannot figure out what to say, so he simply lets out a grunt. It’s extremely embarrassing.

"I'll take that as a yes."

Bucky makes a face.

Instead, he moves to something else entirely. Flips his cloak over his shoulders, tying it into a perfect, military-precise knot in two seconds flat.

You raise an eyebrow. “Well, that was fast.”

“It’s a knot. Not rocket science.”

You step in closer, reaching out to tug lightly at the strings of his cloak. “Did you go full Boy Scout at some point? Or was that just, like, a super useful skill in your assassin era?”

Bucky does not move. “Are you done?”

You grin. “Nope. I like being all up in your space. You’re even hotter up close.”

He immediately steps back.

“Coward.”

“Don’t want you ruining my knot.” Bucky tugs it tighter, then glares down at your very haphazardly tied cloak. “Jesus. That’s a disaster.”

"I was going for a more casual look."

Bucky rolls his eyes. “Give it.”

“Oh, so now you want to touch me?”

Bucky freezes for half a second, until you laugh and then it turns into a half-hearted glare.

Then, without reacting, he reaches out and untangles your mess of a knot with infuriating ease.

You watch him carefully as he ties it. He’s surprisingly gentle, fingers working quickly.

“You’re being very careful.”

“You’ll find a way to strangle yourself otherwise.”

“Is this your version of caring?”

Bucky ignores you.

“Oh, it is.”

“Just– shut up. Five minutes. I’ll pay you.”

Bucky steps back, hands off. The knot is perfect. He gives it a quick tug to test it, then nods.

You stare at him.

Bucky raises an eyebrow. “What?”

“Oh, nothing.” You grin, pulling the hood over your head. “I just think it’s adorable that you want me to live.”

Bucky mutters something unintelligible under his breath and gestures toward the meeting hall. “Let’s go before I change my mind.”

The room is set up like a middle school talent show.

Rows of metal chairs, some folding, some clearly stolen from a diner, all arranged in a rows in front of a small, elevated stage. The stage itself is haphazardly draped with black fabric, trying to give the illusion of magic but mostly looking like a supermarket Halloween clearance aisle.

There is, for some fucking reason, a fog machine in the corner, already hissing out an unnecessary amount of smoke. The whole room smells faintly of lavender essential oils and burnt plastic.

"I gotta say, I expected more," you hum, adjusting your cloak as you scan the room.

“Like what?”

You shrug. “I dunno. Maybe some candles? You’d think they’d at least have, like, a bowl of blood or something.”

Bucky side-eyes you. “Not everything has to fuckin’ theatrical all the time. Just ‘cause you’re floating around 23 hours of the day, scaring the shit out of everyone.”

You grin. “Oh, so you do think my theatrics are effective.”

Bucky realizes his mistake immediately. “That is not what I said.”

"No, no, I heard it," you smirk, nudging his shoulder as you lean in slightly. "You're saying that my supernatural entrance at your window was extremely well-executed."

Bucky glares at you. “I am saying nothing.”

"You're saying I have a flair for the dramatic. That my execution is flawless. That you—"

Bucky reaches over and yanks your hood over your face.

"Mmph—" You flail immediately, dragging it back. "Rude."

Bucky hides a smile to himself but doesn’t say anything.

You narrow your eyes. “You know, you should consider a little showmanship yourself.”

"No."

"I mean, look at you," you gesture vaguely at him, ignoring him. "You've got the sexy ex-assassin, current caveman aesthetic locked down. I’m imagining a trench coat. Maybe a few monologues in the rain. You’d be unstoppable.”

Bucky pinches the bridge of his nose. “What do I have to do to get you to shut up?”

“Put your tulips on my tulips–”

He gets up and moves one seat over, away from you and the heat blossoming on his face.

You follow right behind him with a grin, satisfied.

Mercifully, something your attention is drawn to the people entering the room before you notice his face flushing.

The crowd is a mix of true believers and people who are clearly just here for the novelty of it. Some attendees look fully committed, hoods drawn, faces solemn. Others are whispering and pulling out their phones, probably posting about this on some platform.

You, however, are too busy fiddling with your cloak.

"This fabric is trash," you mutter, pulling at it. "What is this, polyester? It’s so staticky."

"That’s the real issue here," Bucky mutters.

"It is when I keep getting shocked," you say, rubbing your wrist where the fabric clings.

Bucky watches you for half a second too long when you tug at it with annoyance, brows pulled together.

Maybe he should’ve been honest earlier when you asked how he thought you looked.

Instead, he clears his throat and looks away.

More people take seats.

The atmosphere changes suddenly when a man in his late thirties walks up to the podium.

He wears a deep purple cloak, slightly different from the ones given at the door. His hair is combed neatly back, his expression calm and composed.

He raises a hand. The murmurs in the room die down almost immediately.

You lean toward Bucky slightly. "Okay, so we have our medium."

Bucky doesn’t respond, but his jaw shifts slightly.

The man smiles. "Welcome, seekers of truth."

A few people nod reverently.

Bucky leans toward you. "You owe me five bucks."

"What?"

"I bet you earlier that he was going to say ‘seekers of truth’ within the first two minutes."

You peer at him. "I don't remember making that bet."

“We absolutely did.”

“You’re just trying to get back the five bucks you spent on the cloak.”

On stage, Dennis continues.

"Tonight is special," he says smoothly. "The Ghost’s energy is stronger than ever."

A few people murmur in agreement.

Bucky leans in again. "If I start screaming, do you think they'll kick me out?"

"Fuck around and find out, babygirl."

Instead of responding, he reaches over and yanks the knot he had tied securely for you loose.

You glare at it. Then at him.

"If you wanted to take my clothes off, you could have just asked," you whisper. “At least buy me dinner first.”

"I hate you."

"You don't."

"I’ve never hated anyone more."

"You don't," you say, tapping his knee lightly. "You like my company, even if it causes you physical pain. That’s why it sucks even worse for you."

Bucky makes a sound that is a little too like a growl.

The speaker, oblivious, raises his hands again.

Then, with a slow, practiced movement, he turns back toward the stage.

The room settles. The tension shifts.

Bucky doesn’t like it.

Not because it’s weird, exactly– he’s been in weirder places. But because he knows a performance when he sees one.

Dennis moves deliberately. Every step, every gesture, designed for impact.

And then, in a voice as smooth as a radio host’s, he speaks.

"The Ghost moves among us tonight," he says, pacing slowly across the stage. "I felt it earlier. A shift in the air. A whisper."

Bucky leans toward you.

"Did the Ghost also tell him to crank the fog machine to maximum?"

You bite back a grin. "It adds ambiance."

"It adds a fucking fire hazard."

You both glance toward the corner of the room, where the mist machine continues pumping out thick, curling fog.

It’s a lot, and smells faintly chemical and like no fog Bucky has ever smelt before. It spills along the floor, reaching all the way to the back row of seats.

Dennis stops, tilting his head.

"The energy here is special," he murmurs. "Do you feel it?"

A few people murmur in agreement.

Bucky does not murmur.

Instead, he tunes in, watching the room, the way people react. Watching the way Dennis pauses just long enough to let silence work in his favour.

It's polished. Which means it’s bullshit.

You’re half-listening, half-scanning the room. Not just in the way you usually soak in information, but in a subtler way. Like you’re looking for something.

Bucky notices. He wonders if he should ask.

Dennis closes his eyes briefly, as if receiving a message.

"Some of you are new," he says suddenly, his voice shifting slightly. "Some of you have never been here before. You’ve been drawn here. Led here. Perhaps by curiosity, or fate, or something deeper. Whatever the reason, you are here now."

And then Dennis gestures to the audience.

A few nods in the audience. Someone exhales softly, like they’re already halfway into a trance.

Dennis begins to pace. Slow, measured steps, his fingers twitching slightly as if he’s channeling something.

"The spirit has whispered to me once again." His voice lowers. "I have seen visions."

A murmur spreads through the audience.

Dennis stops. Closes his eyes for effect.

"Dark visions. Visions of the Great Ghost of Nickasta’s past."

Dennis opens his eyes, gaze sweeping the room. "Tonight, we will consult with– is someone filming?"

Every head snaps around, straight toward you and Bucky.

Bucky doesn’t move.

You blink. Then, very slowly, you look down at the camera in your hands.

“Uh, yeah. Hi.” You raise your hand slightly, like a student in class. “We're new. The Graveyard Shift here to witness the—”

You dig around in your pocket, pulling out a folded-up flyer, squinting at it in the dark.

"—transformative power of communicating with ghosts."

You fold it back up and look at him expectantly.

Dennis’ smile tightens. "Recording is not encouraged."

Bucky raises an eyebrow. "Why?"

Dennis stares at him. With just a touch too much hesitation, he says “It disturbs the Ghost from reaching full power.”

Bucky’s head cranes.

"Keep that thing on," he tells you as if you had any plans of shutting it off, before raising his voice. "Why not? Don't you wanna get your message out there? Help people?"

Dennis' clasped hands remain tight.

"It is not my message," he says smoothly. "It is the Ghost’s. I am merely a vessel."

Bucky’s lips press together. "Great. Free publicity for the Ghost."

"Yeah, we're doing pretty well on YouTube," you add, twirling the camera slightly in your hands. "Could be doing better on Instagram, but this guy refuses to go live."

Bucky glares. “It’s not gonna happen. Let it go.”

Dennis’ jaw tightens slightly. His gaze does another quick sweep of the room.

Then, finally–

"No." He plasters on a tight smile. "You may continue. But know this—some things cannot be captured by a device so primitive as a camera."

"I’ll take that risk." Bucky leans back in his chair, smug, before adding under his breath to you, "He’s definitely scamming."

You snort. "Give him a chance."

"I gave him five bucks."

"And you got a very hot cloak out of it, which your shoulders look incredible in."

Bucky glares ahead.

"What visions were you having?" someone in the crowd shouts, following it up with a strange laugh.

Bucky’s eyebrows pull together.

Dennis claps his hands together, a smooth pivot away from the interruption.

"Ah, yes, the visions!" he announces, voice swelling with importance. "The Ghost has revealed to me a story of great suffering! Of betrayal! Of a spirit trapped! A mighty beast who could not be contained!"

A few people in the crowd gasp, others burst into tiny giggles. Bucky wonders if others were here for the shits and laughs too.

"How big?" someone in the crowd shouts.

Dennis' eyes light up. He lifts his arms wide, stretching as far as he can.

"He was... huge!" he exclaims, pacing the stage, cloak billowing slightly behind him. "Larger than life itself! And he was trapped, my friends."

A few people gasp softly.

Dennis cries out, "Trapped in chains by the very people who claimed to ‘love’ him!"

Bucky’s face remains blank.

"His mighty beast was strong, yes, but he was misunderstood. He wanted to be free, to live among the people in peace. But no! They took him, they made him fight, and then they... they trapped him!"

Dennis throws himself against the table, inhaling deeply like he’s just been hit by divine revelation. "They made him climb a tall tower!"

He wonders if it actually hurt the guy, all the throwing himself around that he was doing.

"They paraded him for all to see, mocking him!"

Bucky's eyes close briefly, as if in pain. "Okay."

Mist grows stronger around the room, almost like he’s stuck in a room with a bunch of vapers.

His nose scrunches up immediately, eyes stinging lightly as he blinks.

“What the hell is that smell,” he blows the air in front of him.

“Chemical, with undernotes of sweetness,” you note. “Is that what the Ghost smells like or is it a creative interpretation?”

“It's gonna give me a migraine.”

“Breathe through your mouth, then,” you say, raising the camera up and zooming into Dennis doing… whatever.

Bucky just shrugs the stupid cloak off his shoulders and ties it around his face in a makeshift balaclava.

“I feel it,” Dennis announces, throwing his hands in the air. “It is here.”

“What is?” the crowd cries.

“My migraine,” Bucky answers.

You shove at his knee with yours.

Someone stumbles to their feet. “The beast... the spirit... it’s... it's all so beautiful!”

People around him burst into giggles.

“I can feel it, it’s... inside me!” someone in the front laughs loud enough to drown out the music.

“Yes! Yes! The Ghost is in all of you!” Dennis shouts, pointing. “We are all like the beast, misunderstood and bound by chains, but we must rise above it all—

“I am rising,” the same cloak guy from earlier chuckles, knocking the chair behind him to the ground as he stands up. “I see the Ghost.”

“Oh,” you comment, looking around to see everyone with their hands up in the air.

Bucky's arms stay firmly crossed over his chest as he sits slumped in his miserable little chair, staring at the crowd around him around him.

“Everyone's doing something,” you observe through all the loud laughter.

“I can see that,” he says, noticing that your knee continues to brush against his after you shoved at him before coming to a rest. His throat constricts in a way that makes talking a little more difficult.

He pulls the stupid cloth tighter around his face because whatever the smell was, it clearly was giving him a physical reaction.

“I’m having FOMO.”

“By all means, do not let them make you feel that way,” Bucky grumbles, in what he thought was a tone dropping with sarcasm.

“You're right,” you say, dumping the camera on him before standing up with your hands in the air.

Great. Now he was responsible for this thing too.

“They tried to tear him down from his tower,” Dennis shouts.

“Who?” you shout back like it’s a fucking improv show.

“The Witch! The righteous witch, walking along her path of gold!”

“What?” you stop immediately. “The fuck does that mean?”

“It’s the pink lady from Wizard of Oz,” Bucky says casually.

You turn to him, eyebrow raised.

“His great beast is King Kong. Tower, beast, misunderstood, made to fight,” Bucky replies. “Nick and Asta are characters from The Thin Man.”

You lean toward him. "What?"

“He’s bastardizing movies from the 20s.”

You squint toward Dennis, who is still in full Shakespearan mode.

"Can you feel the injustice, my children?" Dennis exclaims. "Can you see the Ghost at work?"

You grin. "Are you telling me you sat through movies in the ‘20s?"

"I was alive in the ‘20s, what the fuck else was I supposed to do?"

Dennis continues, "We are all on a journey, a journey just like those travelers in the great dust storm– oh yes, yes, the spirit shows me! We must keep pushing forward, even when the sand storm rages!"

Bucky grimaces immediately. "Grapes of Wrath."

"What?"

"Saw it when it was released. Thought it was boring as fuck."

You try to stifle a laugh. "You look so young, sometimes I forget you were childhood friends with Adam and Eve."

Bucky glares at you.

Dennis throws his arms out. "Another! Another in the room with us! This mechanical Titan with a heart of gold! They saw him as just a machine, but no, no! He was so much more! The spirit showed me! He was a reflection of the true power within us all—"

"Metropolis," he mutters. “Thea von Harbou's novel."

“Bucky, you fucking nerd.” You tap his shoulder, grinning. “Look at you, busting scams and quoting movies made during the dawn of time. Do you know how hot you are?”

“What?”

“I said, are you single? I’m asking for a friend.”

“Uh huh,” he replies, when the mist pumps into the room.

“I’m the friend.”

“Got that,” he replies, focusing on literally anything else.

Dennis continues without missing a beat. "But wait! Not all of you have followed the spirit’s true path!"

The room goes quiet. Dennis' eyes scan the crowd before he points suddenly.

"You! Yes, you!"

For a second, Bucky thinks he’s pointing at him.

"You betrayed the spirit, didn’t you? You–"

You poke Bucky. "Did you betray the spirit?"

"Only when I felt like it," he mutters.

However, the man in the row ahead of you suddenly lets out a panicked noise.

"I– I needed to go to the bathroom so bad!" he cries. "The line to the club was so long, and the bouncers weren’t letting anyone in, so I just cut ahead–"

Dennis gasps. A few others in the room let out soft, horrified whispers, as if the man had committed a felony.

"No!" Dennis shouts, pointing like he’s passing divine judgment.

The poor guy visibly withers in his seat.

"You have broken the trust of the divine!" Dennis booms. "You must atone!"

The man trembles. "W-what should I do?"

Bucky mutters under his breath. "Is everyone here on drugs?"

Dennis softens slightly, his voice taking on a careful, patronizing tone.

"The spirit demands retribution," he says. "But the Ghost is merciful. And today, so very generous. For a small donation, you will have the chance to cleanse yourself from the darkness."

Bucky watches the guy scramble for his wallet. "Is he selling forgiveness?"

The man hands over thirty bucks.

"This is literally how the Church split,” he mumbles.

You suppress a laugh. "Did it affect your Sunday plans?"

Bucky shoots you a dry look. "I was born in 1917. The Church split four hundred years before that."

"Oh, right." You nod seriously. "I just assumed you were there when Martin Luther nailed his stuff to the door."

Bucky exhales, pressing the heel of his palm into his temples.

The fog thickens.

Dennis' voice rises. "Everyone quiet! The Ghost is speaking!"

You turn to Bucky. "The Ghost is speaking, Buck."

Bucky groans. "You mean till now he’s been freestyling?"

Dennis throws his hands up toward the ceiling. "I feel it! It is here!"

Bucky’s nose twitches. The smell is stronger now, almost becoming hard to see through–

A split second later, you both realize.

Your eyes widen. "Is that–?"

"Nitrous oxide," Bucky confirms, standing up.

"Pumping laughing gas into the room, are you fucking kidding me?" you curse. “We need to air this place out.”

“Fuck’s sake,” Bucky turns sharply, scanning the room. He watches as shoulders slump, as people laugh for no reason. A guy near the front sways slightly, blinking like he’s forgotten where he is.

Someone else lets out a dazed giggle.

Bucky’s focus zeroes in on the mist machine, still hissing. There are small metal canisters stacked neatly beside it, refilling the room.

Bucky crosses the room in four steps.

Dennis barely has time to turn and register the movement before Bucky grabs one of the small pressurized canisters, gripping it in one hand.

"Hey! What are you—"

Bucky doesn’t answer, instead throwing it straight through the window.

The glass explodes outward, scattering onto the pavement outside.

A rush of cold air floods in.

The sound shocks the room, pulling some people out of their haze. Others are still too fogged up to react.

Dennis' face twists in outrage. "What the fuck?!”

"Show’s over," he mutters, chucking the second one too.

It slams into the glass and tumbles outside, hissing as it empties into the night.

Dennis looks like he might actually explode. "You’re ruining–"

"You can talk to the great Ghost through your one phone call in jail," Bucky interrupts, brushing glass off his sleeve.

Dennis lets out a furious noise, grabbing the stupid silver chalice from the table beside him and hurls it directly at Bucky’s head.

Bucky barely tilts his head to the side but finds that there’s really no need.

The chalice stops midair. Hangs there. Slowly floats back to the table, settling back into place.

Dennis' rage turns into something closer to panic.

"Let’s not get pissy now," you remark, voice syrupy sweet.

"Fuck you," Dennis snarls.

And then, in an act of desperation, he grabs a knife from the altar.

It’s cheap plastic. It’s definitely a prop. This guy was fuckin’ nuts.

Still, he lifts it like he’s going to lunge at Bucky.

Except his own cloak yanks tight around his arms.

Dennis lets out a choked sound as it wraps, pulling his limbs against his sides.

The curtain behind him rips off its hooks, swirling around him.

In seconds, he’s bound to the chair behind him, like some kind of villain in a medieval play.

The room stares.

You smile, pleasantly.

"Enough," you say, voice cooler than it should be.

Dennis glares daggers at you.

Bucky glances at you, mouth twitching slightly.

Only then do you notice silence has fallen.

You look at the crowd, only to find them watching you.

Someone in the back lets out a horrified whisper.

"The spirit is here."

The crowd erupts.

"Where?" you ask, genuinely confused.

"The Ghost!" someone screams. "It's you!"

You blink. "Oh, me?"

They nod fervently.

A few drop to their knees.

You process this for a moment. Then grin like you just won the lottery.

"Oh, right. Yeah. Of course it’s me." You lift your arms slightly. "Hey, y’all."

The crowd gasps.

“Guide us.”

Bucky groans. "Some fuckin’ role model you’ve got there."

You pretend not to hear him. Instead, you do what you’ve seen Wanda do a million times, even though it really did nothing for you.

You lift your hands slightly. Let your feet rise just a little off the floor.

The room erupts in gasps.

"Fuck’s sake," Bucky mutters, dropping his head into his hands.

You clear your throat. "Yes, it is I. Spirit of Stick Blasta."

"Nickasta," Bucky corrects.

"Nickasta," you confirm. "I have traveled a long time to be here."

"Twenty minutes."

"Twenty millennia."

Bucky watches as you fake-peek through your half-closed eyes.

"I have some wisdom to share," you announce.

The crowd leans forward.

Bucky leans back.

"First!" you bellow. "Do not listen to anyone who stands on stage and says they've got a spirit moving through them. They're lying."

"But you’re doing that," Bucky heckles.

"Except me. I’m legit," you add quickly.

Bucky watches as you subtly flip him off with one of your raised hands.

"Second!" you continue. "Do not pay people for forgiveness."

You pause. "Unless that person’s name is Prosecutor and you’re bored of how long the case is being—"

"Next one," Bucky interrupts loudly.

You wave a hand dismissively.

"Third…" You falter. "I don’t know. Does anyone have suggestions?"

The crowd stares.

Bucky facepalms.

"Right. No suggestions." You clap your hands together. "Meeting adjourned."

The room is silent.

Then, someone whispers, "What… what do we do now?”

You land lightly on the floor again, brushing nonexistent dust off your cloak.

"For realsies, though, I suggest you get any money you paid this guy back. And then sue him into oblivion.”

Dennis makes furious muffled noises from under the curtain still binding him.

You glance at him.

With zero effort, Dennis gets dragged backward, vanishing backstage.

The crowd stares.

Bucky pinches the bridge of his nose.

"Everyone out," Bucky orders.

The crowd obeys instantly.

Still dazed, still giggling from the leftover gas, they shuffle toward the exits.

Bucky looks at you. "Are you fine?"

You ignore him.

Instead, you call after the crowd, "And call someone to pick you up!"

They nod vaguely.

"I already called the paramedics, they'll be here in a minute!" you shout. “Don’t go anywhere.”

Bucky’s expression tightens.

"Are you fine?" he repeats.

You wave it off. "Oh yeah. It takes way more substances to get me high. All this was covered under the Leviathan Weapon of Mass Destruction starter kit. What about you?"

"Me too." Bucky shrugs. After a pause, he clears his throat. "You didn’t have to tie him up."

"He was annoying,” you say flippantly.

"I wasn’t actually in danger."

"I know."

"It was probably grape juice."

"I know."

"I didn’t need help."

"I know."

Bucky narrows his eyes at you. "What’s your play here?"

"My play?" You scoff. "I know this emo lone wolf thing is something you’ve been cultivating carefully for years, but sometimes, people can do things for you and have it not be a play."

Bucky stares. "Like what?"

"Like-- I don’t know– trying to protect you even if you don’t need it." You turn on your heel, hopping down from the stage. "Or like checking to see if you’re still breathing when you’re lying face down on the table."

Bucky does not respond, feeling his fingers get all fidgety.

“C’mon,” you tell him, halfway out the door. “We’ve got some explaining to do.”

He clears his throat, rolls his shoulders back and starts behind you.

“We’ve got all the footage. So that should be good." You turn to eye him. "But you know what’ll really help our case? You keeping that cloak on.”

Bucky groans, yanking at the fabric that hung across his neck like a bath towel. "I’m gonna set this thing on fire."

"You won’t. You are the cloak now.""

"I will."

“You’re still wearing it. I think you actually like it.”

Bucky grinds his teeth. "I’m leaving."

"In the cloak?"

"Shut up."

"I think it makes you look distinguished."

Bucky storms toward the exit.

You follow, grinning the whole way.

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

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

#bucky x reader #bucky barnes x reader #mcu fic #bucky fic #bucky barnes fic #bucky fluff #bucky barnes fluff #bucky angst #bucky barnes angst #unsolved fic #winter soldier x reader #Winter Soldier x you #bucky barnes x you #bucky x you

187 notes · View notes

fancyfeathers · 3 days ago

Note

So I've seen a lot your story with Robin!Darling and Villain!Batboys, it's pretty interesting but how about Bruce? Can we get some scenario about them and it doesn't need yandere or something(depends on you obv) but pure Platonic relationship between them, like Father-Daughter things

Yandere!Batboys as Villains with Robin!Darlings AU Masterlist

YES! OH MY GOD YES! GIRL DAD BRUCE!!

So starting off since Dick’s darling was the first darling and her parents also murdered, she was practically raised by Bruce, like if someone asks her…

“Oh ya, he’s my dad.”

Her parents were scientists who worked with him as Batman and who were friends of Bruce and were murdered in attempt to steal their research, Bruce came just in time to save their daughter but he was too late to save them. Now Bruce tried to find any family but she didn’t have any left and the last thing he was about to do is leave this little girl who was mourning her parents in the care of people she doesn’t even know, so he takes it upon himself to adopt her, besides if he didn’t do it Alfred would have.

He drops a lot of the playboy persona because she needs someone there for her, he understands that first hand after both of his own parents were killed in front of him as well. So now the media more portrays Bruce as the DILFY single parent he is, raising his friend’s daughter on his own and then soon enough she stops being just his late friend’s daughter and instead his daughter, he doesn’t know exactly when the change occurred, it could have been when he thought the manor was in danger and he raced back and everything was perfectly safe but the first thing he did was to go look for her and the moment he saw her he picks her up in a hug and holds her close, or when he is woken up to her crying across the halls and immediately he runs and finds out she had a nightmare about her parents dying and she asks him to stay but her and he stay by her side until she wakes up, or maybe it was one of first days she was Robin and as if out of instinct he picks her up by the scruff of her cape like a kitten or pulls her under his cape in order to hide her…

He just knows when she called him dad for the first time when she was nearly falling asleep during patrol it just felt right.

Bruce was friends with Harvey Dent before he became Two Face, so that means that he was like an uncle to Harvey’s daughters when they were growing up. While she was a good kid growing up, Jason’s darling had her problems, namely sneaking out which led her to end up being kidnapped and held for ransom from a few people who had a bone to pick with the district attorney. She very well would have ended up getting shot if it was not for Bruce coming in just in time to rescue her. But when the Batman is untying her and telling her that her father and the police should be outside any minute now-

“Uncle Bruce, I know it’s you, I’m not dumb you know.”

Sass was another one of her issues along with the ability to irritate any adult she meets until they give her exactly what she wants, and in this case that was to be the next Robin since it’s kinda obvious Dick’s darling moved on from the mantle and became Dove instead. At first Bruce refuses every time because her father would never forgive him if something happened to her, but eventually he so happens to see her taking on a guy half her size in a local gang that was harassing her friend that she was out with, and she won. So Bruce gives in and gives her a suit on the condition that she will tell her dad one day…

Eventually Jason’s darling graduates high school and Bruce is at the ceremony with Harvey’s family and Dick’s darling. Then a few months after graduation the accident happens to her father and Harvey becomes Two Face. Bruce takes in Jason’s darling and her little sister while they regroup, her little sister becoming his ward because he knows he will never be able to replace their father.

She is staying in Gotham and is gonna go to law school and become just like her dad, when he okay in the head he was one of her two greatest role models. But Jason’s darling is different, she gives up the mantle of Robin willing and becomes Phoenix and her main priority is to help young people her age to stay out of crime, but that back fries when she bites off more than she can chew one day and encounters the Joker. We all know what happened to Jason in the Arkham games, that’s what happened to her, except she was killed in the end.

Bruce remembers seeing the footage and knew he would have to be the one to tell her little sister and find Harvey and show him because even for who he is now, Harvey deserves to know what happened to his daughter.

Bruce was the one who had to give the eulogy at her funeral and he felt sick to his stomach during the whole thing, guilt eating him alive because he should have been there to save her but he wasn’t able to in the end. Yet he still has to look after her little sister because she has no one else now, he still has to be strong for her.

When Jason’s darling is brought back to life by Damian in a ploy to get information out of her, she feels just as guilty as Bruce does because she told the Heir of the Demon’s Head everything about her little sister, with no idea while she was gone that Tim’s darling had become Robin and then passed the mantle on to Damian’s darling, her little sister.

She eventually escapes by some miracle and eventually finds a phone to call Bruce, she is crying, she is scared and alone, worried that he’ll be mad at her for everything, but he is overwhelmed that she is alive that when he gets to her in person it’s the first time she has ever seen him cry.

Bruce meets Tim’s darling when his youngest ward comes home with her, she is an upperclassman but they have a few classes together. He is happy that she is able to make peace and not let the death of Jason’s darling pin her down for the rest of her life. Tim’s darling is a sweet girl that reminds Bruce way too much of his last Robin, especially when…

“You’re the Batman! Woah that’s so cool!”

“…Did you tell her?”

“No I did not, Uncle Bruce.”

It comes a normal occurrence for Tim’s darling just showing up at the manor randomly, Alfred making her hot chocolate while she sits at the kitchen counter while she complains about her parents never being home, both of them are doctors at Arkham Asylum that care more about their work than the daughter they had that is eating alone most nights. Her parents are never at anything, none of her art shows or choir performances, it’s just her standing alone while all the other kids having their parents and families with them and after words she has to take the city bus home, all alone…

But then Bruce hears her talking to Alfred about that in the kitchen one day and realizes if he was not there for Jason’s darling then he will make up for his mistakes with Tim’s darling. So at her spring art show and she is sitting alone at her display, only strangers giving her compliments on her art, not her friends on her family.

“Tell me about this one?”

Her ears immediately perk up and she looks up to see Bruce Wayne and Dick’s darling and Damian’s darling next to him. He gives her a bouquet of flowers and she just immediately breaks down crying, because no one has ever done anything like this for her.

Family dinners at the Wayne Manor now include Tim’s darling, she comes home with Damian’s darling after school and normally she leaves after dinner before Bruce goes on patrol but on a night where Bruce knows her parents aren’t going to be home he insists she stays at the manor, she was her own room now.

Eventually she even convinced Bruce to let her become Robin, well convinces, she saves his life when she drags his unconscious body out of an alley when she spotted him on her way home.

But then her parents finally finds out about her visits to Wayne Manor, not about her being Robin, and they are pissed because it is their child, Bruce just snaps when they call their daughter an it…

“You two may leave, my lawyers will be in contact and I will see you two in court.”

“Excuse me?”

“I am taking you to court on negligence charges, and trust me you will not win.”

And he was right, they were lucky that they didn’t loose their jobs at Arkham, but Bruce doesn’t really care. He just cares about the young lady and helping her feel more comfortable at her new home…

But that isn’t necessary because Wayne Manor is already her home.

Then there is Damian’s darling, the youngest in the bunch, even if she is sixteen when she moves to Wayne Manor with her big sister after her father became Two Face. Life has been hard on her, so she just needs to process one thing at a time, including the death of her big sister. Bruce does his best to be there for her and he just can’t help but be reminded of Dick’s darling when she was young, the way she crawls into his bed after patrols or when he finds her asleep in the Batcave, waiting for him to get back.

She is young and sometimes she just needs to be held.

But the worst experience in her recovery is when she accidentally finds the video of what happened to her sister when contacting Oracle on the Batcomupter when the comm lines where hacked and she just shuts down, can’t even move and can barely even breathe. So when Bruce comes back to the cave he just finds her in a completely state of shock, everyone does everything they can to snap her out of it but she is in complete shock for almost a week, it’s enough challenge to get her to eat or drink anything, let alone anything else.

But when she snaps out of it, she has had time to process a few things and she goes to Bruce and tells him something…

“I want to be Robin…”

Tim’s darling has left the mantle behind and became Strigidae, and she wants to pick up where her sister left off. But Bruce’s biggest condition is that she has to train with him for a year, no patrols or anything until the year is over, even if her training is almost over.

Tim is hard on her but in the way he needs to be, like a father with their child. He is patient with her and they will train for hours on end, doing the same thing over and over again and he will tell her what she did wrong so she learns how to do it right, but he is hard on her because he is not letting anything happen to her.

The first night she is out with him as Robin, picture how Dick Grayson was as Robin, specifically this comic and honestly her mischief as Robin brings such a smile to Bruce which is both unsettling to see on Batman and a refreshing thing for him…

But that happiness is over when they encountered Ra’s Al Ghul together. He wanted to yell at her to run and he feels just as terrified as he did when her big sister went missing. But without her he doesn’t know what would have happened because she throws a Batarang at the Demon’s Head’ hand just in time, the blade pinning his hand to the wall. When they get out of there, Bruce picks her up and holds her close because if something went wrong then she would have ended up dead and he can’t loose her too.

Then when her big sister comes back home, he doesn’t care what is going on in that moment, it means the world to see the sisters reunite, the happiest he has seen them in years.

But then when Damian encounters his darling and carves into her, Bruce amps everything up, no one patrols alone, three minute check ups on the comm lines with Oracle, if something happens they immediately report it, if some one gets hurt then they go to the Clocktower or the Batcave immediately.

They are a family and a family looks after each other.

Extra things:

The Batgirls are also good, so imagine sister nights with the darlings and Cassandra Cain, Stephanie Brown, Barbara Gordon, Kate Kane (or Auntie Kate to Jason’s and Damian’s darlings), Helena Bertinelli, you get the idea. So all of them take over the movie theater in the house and have a girl’s night, locking Bruce, Duke, and Alfred out.

Duke is also good in this AU, I really can’t picture him as a villain, he is their baby brother who gets doted on by his big sisters all the time.

I love the idea of Bruce being on top of all his girl’s schedules, like as they are walking out of the door in the morning, Bruce is there handing each other them things like…

“You have ballet rehearsal today, make sure to break your shoes in.”

*hands Dick’s darling her new pointe shoes that arrived in the mail last night*

“Test today at 1:00, make sure to study chapters twenty and twenty one during your lunch study session.”

*hands Jason’s darling her law text book*

“Remember your gallery showing is at 7:00 tonight, I’ll be there at 6:30 to make sure you have everything set up-“

“Dad, I’ll be fine.”

“You left a can of paint out last time and you tripped five minutes before the doors opened and you were covered in green paint when people came in.”

*hands Tim’s darling a bag with a change of spare clothing*

“Your Auntie Kate is pick you up for your appointment with Dr. Thompkins after fifth period, okay?”

“Got it, Uncle Bruce.”

*hands Damian’s darling a note*

“What’s this?”

“A letter I wrote to Dr. Thompkins last night, telling her about what actually happened on patrol last night so you won’t minimize what happened like last time.”

“…fuck.”

“Kate also has a copy of it as well.”

#yandere dc headcanon #yandere dc x reader #yandere dc #yandere batfam #yandere batfam x reader #yandere batfamily x reader #yandere batfamily #yandere dick grayson #yandere dick grayson x reader #yandere jason todd #yandere jason todd x reader #yandere tim drake x reader #yandere tim drake #yandere damian wayne x reader #yandere damian wayne

96 notes · View notes

spidori · 2 days ago

Text

Possible twist on this, what if Danny's ghostly side *is* actually Doomsday, or at least his soul?

Got a little rambly, so putting that under the cut.

The short summary is Doomsday's soul has an obsession with resurrection, and has developed the ability to push back through to the living realm and construct living bodies to do so.

He ends up pushing into and regenerating Danny during the portal turning on, then doesn't want to take over, even if he could kill what his soul now sees as a part of himself, because cooperating like this turns out to be a fantastic survival strategy, not to mention Danny's DNA quiets down the anger and violence written into his own. So he just stays, a symbiotic soul now completely chimeric to Danny's own, and they survive.

What if the portal couldn't open unless something was trying to do so from both sides? And Danny accidentally resetting the safety cutoff switch only worked because Doomsday's soul "happened" to be punching its way through the veil for his resurrection at the same time?

I kinda like this idea for a few reasons actually. Especially since it provides a really good reason for Danny surviving; it's always kinda bugged me, since Danny doesn't seem particularly obsessed with anything in the show, at least not nearly enough to help him survive the moment of becoming a halfa; and I know obsession is pretty much if not entirely Phannon, and the show just has him essentially chosen by the narrative, which is fine, but I don't want to give up all the narrative potential that obsessions offer.

So Doomsday got beaten by Superman, as he do. Goes to punch his way back through the veil and regenerate from whatever matter, as his ghostly ability allows him to; obsession with resurrection and survival will give you that kind of ability if you have enough ecto, and the scientist who made Doomsday spared no expense in the resources he provided, so Doomsday is a lot like Spectra if her obsession wasn't quite literally skin-deep.

He's in the process of pushing through (it's a process to break the boundaries of reality, ok. It's why he can't just instantly res every time he's killed) when the weak point he's making suddenly shatters inwards, and he goes from pushing against nearly infinite resistance to suddenly nothing pushing back at all, and instead goes absolutely Flying into the portal, and *SMACK* right into a body. A fully formed pile of organic matter, exactly what his soul would normally have to slowly and painfully construct, but also in the process of being obliterated by the conditions of portal formation and a ton of electricity from the other side.

Welp, can't have that. That's a perfectly good body right there, ain't no way Doomsday's obsession would let that go to waste. Not like he hasn't survived those things before either, so how to survive them is already incorporated into his soul. So that's what he does, he keeps Danny from dying, as is the first half of his obsession. He also fuses himself into Danny, giving him a body, and satisfying the second half of his obsession as well.

The thing is? That's actually exactly where his obsessions end? It's not like he *wants* to rampage, that's all trauma and conditioning from his "upbringing" so to speak. It's literally encoded into his DNA, something he only kinda has at the moment, since he managed to save Danny's body from damage so well. And Dannny? Doomsday saved him so well his mind is even still intact. Doomsday can't kill his mind to take the body either, the whole process had the side effect that his soul doesn't differentiate between Danny and Doomsday any more, and destroying himself goes directly against his obsession. So, as long as Danny isn't trying to kill himself, there won't be any differentiation by the underlying obsession, and the Doomsday part of the soul will just try to help the overall being survive. Eventually, the two aspects of souls coexist as a single fused soul long enough that they go from symbiotic to something better described as chimeric, with no real boundary to differentiate them, just gradients across where bits originating from different existences have found points of connection and blended together at the edges.

One cool ripple effect from this is that it adds a lot to Dan. Danny was, unintentionally, trying to destroy Doomsday by ripping him out like that. It triggered the *Survive* obsession, which designated the Danny part as the threat, letting him be differentiated as a-part-of-self-causing-threat-so-needs-to-be-removed instead of something of the self to still be protected.

The rampage that follows is just the Doomsday anger-in-his-DNA part coming back to the surface a bit, even if it is mixed with parts of Danny and Vlad that got pulled in during the process. The only real difference is that the soul has come to view ghostly existence as another form of survival through all the time as a halfa, letting it not try to resurrect as a living being, and instead keep access to all the ghostly powers it's picked up in the process of surviving as Phantom.

Danny gets experimented on by either his parents or the GIW and dies over and over and over again but because of his unusual ghostly creation he keeps coming back and with each return he changes. Originally the changes with each death were subtle. His skin would be a shade greyer, his flesh would be tougher, his powers a bit stronger.

Then the changes became far more apparent, the deaths reaching past the multiple thousands. He’s grown and he’s grown a lot. His skin is grey and spikes protrude over his being. His face no longer resembles what he once was, now a terrifying being with razor sharp teeth and spines imitating a beard jutting out of his jaw (wait how long has he been doing this? Has it been THAT long? Surely not.) Danny just wishes he could be free, not to be put under simulated trials over and over and dying again and again.

The Justice League heard word of unusual power disruption and reports of unethical experimentation at an absolutely massive underground research facility. Superman chose to lead the charge, rounding up scientists and directing other league members to find the server room and to find, collect, and then destroy all research this group might have found.

Going deeper and deeper into the research facility, there are dozens upon dozens of inhuman entities in massive glowing green vats, all of which seemingly in a comatose state.

At the farthest and most secure part of the facility, having broken through dozens of secure locks, doors, and security drones, Superman comes across the largest containment of all; one holding a being hooked up to dozens of monitors and in a similar comatose state as the others, the beast within is someone Superman knows very very well. Doomsday.

812 notes · View notes

leviathansmistress · 1 day ago

Text

Caving Heart

Pairings: Divorced Wife!Natasha Romanoff x Female Reader

Tags/warnings: Allusions to sex, we rock with Wanda because Wanda rocks with us, angst then fluff :D

Part 1 | Part 2 | Part 3

In which you're starting to let her in, once again...

࿐ ࿔*:･ﾟ

This is Natasha looking at you, scrambling as you put your clothes on. You didn't know how it happened, she was just putting the kids to sleep and the next thing you know is she is putting you to bed as well.

"This is just one time, this will never happen again." You said calmly. Natasha could only bite her lip, she didn't say anything but the words cut deep in her chest.

For the first time after 3 years of being a fucking celibate—you had sex. A life changing, toe curling, breathtaking orgasm from the same person who gave you your first orgasm. Not that you literally practiced celibacy because you still had the vibrators and toys your wife actually bought when you were still together and not that you don't want to have sex but…you just can't—you can't with someone else.

Natasha was the first to worship your body, the one who loves tracing and kissing the stretch marks that etched in your thighs. She admired every part of you and with all honesty? You can't see anyone leveling how your ex-wife looked at you.

You were standing, fixing your clothes, ready to kick your ex-wife out of the house since it's already late at night. But then, you felt a strong arms wrapping your waist. "Baby, please…" She begged.

"Natasha, stop." You tried to remove her locked arms on your stomach but her grip was strong.

"Baby please, I'm sorry." She kissed your shoulders over and over. "Please forgive me, I want you back. I want you back Y/N. I need you back." She cried. "I need you baby please. I'm sorry. I love you so much, please."

You started crying as well but you held your stance, you tried to thrash away from her grasp but whenever you try to move away Natasha makes sure to not let you go, not this time—not anymore.

"Natasha, stop." You hissed, wiping the tears from your face. "Jesus, you'll wake the kids up." But she did not say anything despite your angry tone, you can only hear her cry and sob behind you, her forehead pressed against the back of your shoulder.

And it went on the rest of the night. Both of you standing and crying in each other's embraces.

࿐ ࿔*:･ﾟ

Your friend, Wanda, the godmother of your children, decided to visit you at your home, bringing you some tea and a real tea.

"I told you Mrs. Hart's husband was cheating with the chief." She said with a wide eye, pouring you some tea she made.

"Well, that one is actually not included on my bingo card this year…" you chuckled lightly. Then, there was a knock that interrupted your tea with your friend and your first born immediately ran to get it.

"Mom!" She squeaked, Natasha easily brought her up using just her right arm. You watched as she peppered her kisses before putting your daughter down. Meanwhile, your friend, Wanda, switched her shocked eyes between you and Natasha. She watched as your ex-wife handed you a huge bouquet of flowers and kissed your temple.

"Ashana's asleep." That was the only thing you said, then Natasha nodded. She gave Wanda a smile before heading upstairs.

When Wanda was sure your ex-wife was already gone upstairs, she switched from being a nosey neighbor to being a detective that needed some answers.

"What exactly was that?" She left her mouth open, you're afraid a fly might come in.

"What?" you giggled playfully.

"That!" She now hissed, pointing at the stairs of your house. "And that too." She pointed to the bouquet of yellow daffodils in your hand.

"Stairs..? And flowers?" you laughed, blushing at the satisfaction you're feeling with your friend's interrogation.

"Oh, c'mon don't play stupid. Since uh when." She sassed.

"Since last week."

"Last week and you didn't tell me?"

"Well, this is the first time we saw each other again so how am I supposed to tell you?" You defended, transferring the flowers from the vase.

"Girl, don't you have a phone?" She barked, standing and she motioned towards you. "Daffodils, daffodils, daffodils…" she said in a sing-song snapping her body to lean on the counter where you have been fixing the flowers, you cannot help but laugh at her silly movements. "Did you know that daffodils mean a new beginning? A start of something fresh—whether it's a new relationship or an existing one. So what's the deal huh? You two?" she asked, scrunching her nose. You hide yourself behind the bouquet of the flowers but your friend snatched it away from you.

"You're such a bitch, you're blushing!" She whacked the bouquet playfully on your face and you immediately dodged it.

"Noooo!" You whined, retrieving the flower back.

"Look who's in love? Hm?"

"Who?" you asked innocently, focusing on putting the daffodils on the vase.

"This bitch right here." She whispered before attacking your sides with her fingers.

"Wanda! If Shane heard you cursing again, I swear…" you warned, swatting her hands away.

She made an offensive look, palming her chest, "Hey, don't bring the kids in here. I have been nothing but a good influence auntie."

"Shane said you called someone a bitch in the market."

"Because she cut through our line." Wanda defended. "Damn, I can't believe my homegirl will snitch me. But anyway, I need to go now. I will pick my twinsies to school." She rushed to hug you, then she proceeded to get her keys and purse.

"Thank you, Wands." You walked her to the door but then, she stopped, right at the doorway and turned to look at you.

"Daffodils means a new beginning…and a new life." She started. You tilt your head before breaking into a laughter, forcing her to turn around.

"Hey, hey wai—aw!" She grabbed your hands away from her shoulder and held it firmly in front of her. "I just wanna say, I am ready for another goddaughter."

"Okay. No." She let go of your hand and immediately ran away from the porch of your house.

"You're not sure about that my friend!"

"I hate you!" you shout.

"I love you too, sis!"

You waved as your friend finally drove away from your house. When you got inside, you saw Natasha coming down the stairs. "Where's Shane?" you asked her.

"Asleep." She trailed behind you, as you went to the dining room.

Your phone vibrated behind your ass but you ignored it. "Did you eat?" you looked at her, already grabbing a plate for her. You knew Natasha so well, she doesn't eat lunch and if she does, it's always late. She hugged you from behind, wrapping her arms around your stomach.

"Nope." She said, while her face was buried on your shoulders. You hummed already expecting that answer from her.

"I'll reheat the lunch." You touched the side of her head. The phone vibrated again, but you chose to check it later.

"I was thinking of eating something else." She mumbled.

"Oh…do you wanna order?" You asked, feeling offended she doesn't want to eat the food you cooked for lunch and Natasha immediately sensed it.

"Nope, food's here." She said lazily, wrapping you tightly in her embrace.

Finally understanding what she meant, you slapped the side of her thigh so hard that she let out a cry.

"I was just joking." She cried as she stepped back, rubbing her thigh. Well, she actually was not joking.

Then, your phone buzzed just right behind your ass for the third time now. You took the device from your pocket and read the message that was from your friend.

Are you having sex with your ex-wife right now?

Reply 'ugh' if you are doing some baby making activities with your ex-wife.

Okay, I'll take the no replies as a sign that I am having another goddaughter or godson soon. I love being a fairy godmother!

#natasha romanoff #natasha romanoff x reader #natasha romanoff x fem!reader #natasha romanoff x female reader

199 notes · View notes

lucysarah-c · 20 hours ago

Note

Hey! Do you think Levi would “tease” you for example during a meeting? Like put his hand on your thigh and run his hand over your clothed crotch… Would he become mad if WE tease him?

Anyway, thanks for your great works and attention to your followers💗💗💗💗

Hey, how are you?

Thank you so much for saying that! I always say this—what makes this blog feel alive is you. You and everyone who stops by, who likes, who sends comments—so thank you, thank you, and thank you for being you, for trusting me with your thoughts, and for making this space so much fun.

Alright, let’s get into these scenarios—you gave me two, but I’m starting with the second one (I shouldn’t, but I will).

Teasing Levi—Know the Two Looks

If you want to tease Levi, you need to understand the two types of looks he’ll give you. And you have to learn them fast, because one is a dead-end, and the other? Well, that one can get you exactly what you want—but not without consequences.

The first look is his true deadpan. This one means, "Do not go there. I’m not in the mood." You press him here, and you’re setting yourself up for failure. Levi isn’t someone who likes being challenged when he’s genuinely done with everyone’s bullshit. If you push him in this mood, you’re not getting a flirty reaction—you’re getting a lecture. Especially, during a meeting. Levi is a workaholic, if his mind is set on work do not bother him.

Now, the second look—that’s the real game. This is the one that says, "Don’t test me." But if you’re smart, you know you can. It’s a warning, yes, but not a serious one. If you play your cards right, you’ll get out of there with a very different outcome—one that involves being pinned against a door instead of thrown out of an office. But if its the right type of askance look, you know which buttons to press. Be careful down, you´re down to be taught exactly what happens when you press those. No work done after the meeting for sure.

For example, say you’re in a meeting. Levi is a workaholic, and he takes his position seriously. But if it’s one of those endless, pointless meetings where everyone is just talking in circles, he’s already tuned out. And then he looks over—at you.

And suddenly, your ODM harness has never fit better. Your legs have never looked stronger. Your gear is pressing in all the right places, your shirt is just tight enough. Since when does the belt of the harness under your tits make them seem so perky? and Levi? He’s seeing it. He’s not just glancing—he’s looking. And when Levi looks like that, oh, he’s in for it.

Because here’s the thing about Levi: there’s a part of him—sharp, cocky, and untamed—that he buried when he became a captain. But it’s still there. And if he decides to let it out? Oh, you’re in for a ride.

He’s not just sassy—he’s dangerous. He’s not just cheeky—he’s insatiable. He takes what he wants.

And if you press his buttons just right? He’s pressing right the hell back.

One second, you’re whispering, telling him to behave because someone is still talking in front of you. The next, his hand is on your thigh, his fingers tracing just enough to make you lose focus. You glare at him, silently telling him to stop, but he smirks—because you don’t want him to stop. You´re fighting against the urge of rocking against the chair or his sneaky hand.

And he knows it.

Levi doesn’t just tease—he makes you suffer for it. Maybe you blush. Maybe your breath hitches. Maybe you swallow too hard, and suddenly, he’s the one murmuring, "Throat dry?" knowing damn well that’s not the problem.

And the worst part? He’s not subtle. Not even a little.

Because when that little Underground famous thug side of him comes out? Oh, baby, it’s over.

That’s the moment you’ll wish you had met him back in the Underground. Because that Levi? The one with no rules? He would’ve had you pinned against those damp, stone walls before you could even catch your breath. No time to think, no time to argue—just pure, raw instinct.

Because when Levi decides it’s over for you? You have no choice. He’s getting what he wants. And you’re going to love every second of it. That Levi, thug Levi, he likes it quick, he likes it steamy, hot and strong. Be ready to be fucked in the first cleaning closet he finds out of that office.

I had so much fun writing this one—thank you, thank you! 💋 Have a lovely day or night! Kisses!

120 notes · View notes

bloatedandalone04 · 17 hours ago

Text

Your Place or Mine

Summary: Levi is one of the two new operatives assigned to the watchtowers that overlooked The Gorge, and although he was strictly forbidden to contact the other watcher, you prove to be too tempting to pass up. Luckily for him, you just so happen to feel the same way.

Word Count: 6.3k

Warnings: not really spoilers for the gorge but can be ig, loosely follows the plot, fluff, swearing, smut, unprotected sex, pining, touch starved levi, this is lowkey a roller coaster.

It only took Levi a few days to fall into an efficient routine at his new ‘home away from home’, which was the biggest load of shit he’d heard in a while. This place wasn’t his home, he didn’t even know where in the world he was, for fucks sake.

But he’d make do, because he had literally nothing else better to do, and that was why he was picked for this. Well, that and the fact that he was one hell of a shot.

He fell into a pattern of walking the Western rim daily, restocking ammo, and checking the containment fence, cloakers and suspended mines and making sure they were all in order. It was pretty easy, and he’d already done his radio check he was required to do every thirty days.

His mission was to keep the contents of the Gorge inside the tall walls, but Levi still didn’t know what it was, exactly, he was keeping from coming out, because he had yet to witness it, and he’d been here a whole month already.

With that being said, the change of scenery was nice, and though he missed the beach, he didn’t mind the trees one bit. It was so quiet here, yet Levi wasn’t bored or antsy whatsoever. However, he was…curious about a few things; one being what the fuck he was tasked to watch over, two being who his Eastern counterpart is.

He hadn’t seen any movement at all across the Gorge, and he tried not to be a total stalker and use the binoculars to look over there and see what was going on on the East side. He assumed it was relatively similar, if not the exact same thing that was going on over here on the West side, which was a whole lot of nothing, but still, he was curious. There was nothing wrong with that, right?

One night in October, Levi was sitting outside on the observation deck of his tower, simply watching the world go by as he jotted down words in his notebook. Being away from his small room at home had really given him some inspiration, creatively, and he was sure he would have over a full book of poems by the time he was finished with this year long mission.

As he wrote, he saw something out of the corner of his eye, and when he lifted his head, he saw that there was a light shining in his direction from the East Tower, but it wasn’t one of the watch lights. It was from the other person.

Levi set his book down and got up from the chair, his curiosity peaked as he moved towards the binoculars. What he saw was a woman who looked like she was in her late twenties, standing on the East Towers observation deck, holding up a big notepad that read, ‘HI, NEIGHBOR. WHAT’S YOUR NAME?’

As he read the words, Levi’s lips curved upwards into a smile, and it only grew when he saw the way your own lips had formed a small grin, and even from this far away, he could tell that you’d been as curious about him as he’d been about you.

And wow, you were fucking stunning.

While Levi preferred to live his life alone, he had been with his fair share of women and has had girlfriends before, but you were something else. You were so beautiful, and he could tell by your greeting that you were funny, and somehow that only made him feel even more drawn to you.

He wasn’t curious anymore. No, now he was full on intrigued to know more about his ‘neighbor’.

Levi looked around the deck for a few seconds before he turned and went inside, hoping he didn’t accidentally give you the wrong impression in his search for something to write on. He grabbed the whiteboard he’d been using as a chart, and carelessly erased the data he’d already re-written elsewhere.

He quickly went back outside and saw that you were still standing on the opposing deck, though your smile was a little smaller, and he hastily wrote back to you with his big, bold handwriting.

‘WE ARE NOT ALLOWED CONTACT’.

Levi held it up and hoped you didn’t take his message too seriously, because he was thinking that this might be a perfect way to pass the time.

You read the board and pouted a bit before you turned your back to him and flipped to a new page in your book. He watched you write something on it, before you turned back to him and held it up, ‘HAVEN’T YOU EVER BROKEN A RULE FOR FUN?’

Levi laughed to himself as he shook his head, wiping his previous message from the board with his sleeve before he wrote, ‘MAYBE ONCE OR TWICE,’ and went to go hold it up, but then he paused and had an inner debate with himself for a few moments. Fuck it. He added, ‘FOR THE RIGHT PERSON.’ and then held it up for you to read.

He watched your smile return as your eyes trailed over every word, and he was suddenly very glad he added that last part, because you were full on grinning now, and he was sure it was one of the prettiest things he’d ever seen.

But you didn’t turn away or make a move to write a response, so Levi once again erased his message and scribbled something else down, ‘HAVEN’T YOU?’

When you read his second message, you bit down on your lip, something Levi was able to see almost concerningly well from just how upgraded the equipment was, but he refused to let his mind wander any further than it already has.

He watched you flip back in your book and scribble something out, and a few seconds later, you were holding up your first question, but had crossed out the first part, leaving only, ‘WHAT’S YOUR NAME?’.

Alright, alright, he’ll play along.

He grabbed the whiteboard and sprawled his name on it before turning it to you, ‘LEVI KANE,’

Levi watched as you stepped away from the railing again, and he saw the way your lips moved as you tried his name out on your tongue, and now he felt a little desperate to be close enough to hear your voice. And to hear how his name sounded coming from your mouth.

You nodded slowly, pressing your lips together as you crossed your arms and leaned over the railing a bit, and he tried to not notice the way your chest was pressed together and exposed a bit of cleavage.

‘WHAT’S YOURS?’ he wrote once he realized he still didn’t know your name, but you seemed to be content with that as you peaked through the binoculars one last time before shrugging with a teasing smile on your lips.

Then you turned around and walked inside the tower, leaving Levi standing alone outside his own.

You were mysterious and challenging, and he liked that. A lot.

And now he couldn’t wait for the next time you and he found yourselves on your respective observation decks at the same time.

A few days went by, and much to Levi’s dismay, he hadn’t been able to communicate with you. But that wasn’t without multiple attempts.

He casually flickered a flashlight in your direction, left the lights on for a lot longer than needed when he really should’ve been sleeping, and even shot off his gun, which he pretended was an accident, but you weren’t even there to see him do it.

It was quiet tonight, like most nights, but Levi liked it. It allowed him to write without any interruptions, and as of lately, a certain person had been the main source of his inspiration.

Funnily enough, it was the same person who just fired off three rounds with her pistol, and Levi shot up out of the chair he was sitting in, similar to the way he usually shoots up out of bed when he has his nightmares.

His book was tossed aside as he leaned over the railing, his eyes flickering along the East wall of the Gorge to see what you were firing at, but when he saw nothing, he looked up at you and saw the sheet of paper held in your hands. When he looked into the binoculars, he was able to read what you had written down, ‘HEY, STRANGER,’

A slow smile formed on Levi’s lips as his heartbeat slowed down to its normal pace, and he shook his head as he turned around and reached for the whiteboard he kept on the table next to the chair.

‘HEY BACK,’ he wrote, then held it up for you to see.

You smiled back and then held up another note that said one word. ‘BORED.’

Levi let out a quiet laugh and he let his gaze linger on your features for a few extra seconds before he stepped away from the binoculars again. God, you were so beautiful. Definitely the prettiest thing in this place, and that was a hard thing to compete with since he was surrounded by beautiful scenery. Yet you were still at the top of the list.

He scribbled down a question on the whiteboard, and he hoped you actually answered it this time, because he was dying to find out if your name was as pretty as the rest of you. ‘ARE YOU GONNA TELL ME YOUR NAME NOW?’

Levi watched your teeth sink into your lip again like it did the first time you and he did this, and this time, he did let his mind wander a bit. He wondered what sound you’d make if he took your lip between his own teeth. He wondered if you’d let him find out somehow.

You looked like you were having an inner debate with yourself before you finally flipped to a new page of the book and wrote something down. That something wasn’t your name, though. ‘WHAT DO I GET IF I TELL YOU?’

The look you gave him as you held it up had Levi pressing his lips together to hold back a groan. You were teasing him like you did before, and fuck if he didn’t like it. ‘WHAT DO YOU WANT?’ he wrote back, and he watched as a genuine smile formed on your lips.

Then you wrote something else and lifted it for him to see. ‘Y/N,’

It was just your first name, but Levi was more than okay with that, because it lived up to his expectations. Your name was definitely as pretty as the rest of you.

It was December now, and although the weather made Levi’s routine a bit harder, he still found time to talk to you almost every night.

He still didn’t know your last name, but at this point he didn’t care, because he was very much into you, and you were very much into him.

From the first night you reached out to him, Levi was hooked, and that feeling only intensified the longer he got to know you. And the close call you and he had a few weeks back definitely solidified his feelings for you, because he hadn’t felt that panicked in a long time as he watched you fire off countless rounds towards his side of the gorge while he defended your side.

On a side note, at least he finally knew what he was keeping from coming out now.

Since it was now winter, it was significantly colder out, and there was only so much Levi could do to keep warm. Sleeping on a mattress on the floor of the tower was uncomfortable as fuck before, but now that it was snowing nearly every day, it just became damn near impossible to get any sleep.

And though he only slept for maybe three hours last night, Levi was wide awake tonight, and from the looks of it, so were you.

You were sitting on the chair on the observation deck, a blanket draped around your body as you watched the flames of a few candles you had placed on the railing flicker from the wind. It wasn’t snowing right now, so it wasn’t super cold, but even if it was, Levi didn’t think he could pass up the opportunity to talk to you. Of course, in the form of a whiteboard and marker.

‘HEY, BEAUTIFUL. CAN’T SLEEP?’ he wrote down, then caught your attention by flashing his light at you.

You got up from the chair and kept the blanket around you as you peered through the binoculars, and a pretty smile formed on your lips, which only served to prove his words. You wrote down something in your book before holding it up, ‘I CAN…BUT I DON’T WANT TO. I WAS WAITING FOR YOU,’

Levi smirked and jotted down his response, this part of his nightly routine definitely being his favorite by far. ‘SORRY TO KEEP YOU WAITING. YOU COLD?’

Your smile grew before you gave him a pointed look, and he laughed as you wrote down your answer. ‘A LITTLE…WISH I HAD SOMEONE HERE WITH ME,’ you held up the page for a few seconds before quickly flipping onto a new one and writing something else, ‘YOU KNOW, SO WE CAN SHARE BODY HEAT.’

Levi groaned at your words and felt a familiar stirring in his groin, but he made no move to relieve it as he simply wrote down another message to you. ‘YOU BETTER BE TALKING ABOUT ME,’

During the first month of knowing you, Levi would’ve never written something so bold, but after a few months, he knew where you and he stood with each other. He’d made his interest known, and you’d done the same. It was fair game now.

He watched as your shoulders shook a bit as you laughed, and fuck he wanted to hear that sound so badly. He wanted to hear your voice, see your gorgeous smile up close, and he wanted to see if you fit as perfectly in his arms as he thinks you do.

Most of all, he wanted to taste those lips of yours and tug on your bottom one in the way you do every time he looks over at you.

You leaned over the railing a bit as you held up your sheet of paper, and Levi felt another surge of desire run through his body. ‘OF COURSE I’M TALKING ABOUT YOU,’

He bit down on his own lip as he shook his head and wiped down the whiteboard before writing something else. ‘SO MUCH FOR STAYING PROFESSIONAL,’

Nothing about this was professional. None of it. Levi had broken the strict rule of absolutely no contact with the East side watcher, but how could he have possibly followed it after he saw you for the first time? You were far too tempting. Far too alluring and captivating and enticing. And Levi was all in.

‘WERE WE EVER?’ you held up the note, and Levi knew he needed to head inside the tower, because he was concerningly close to showing you just how much your words affected him.

Towards the end of January, the snow had already begun melting, and it wasn’t nearly as cold out anymore.

Levi was sitting on the edge of the tower, his legs dangling off the edge as the wind blew through his hair. His chin was propped on one of the bars as he looked down at the Gorge, but he couldn’t see much because of the fog.

Really, he’d rather not see the things that are down there again, because they were nothing short of nightmare fuel, and he didn’t need any more of those.

Nearly half a year here, surrounded by nothing at all but trees, and yet he didn’t feel lonely at all. Isolated, sure, but not lonely.

When a flicker of light caught his eye, he looked up and saw you shining the beam of sunlight that was bouncing off your knife in his direction, and Levi felt a grin form on his face as he slowly stood up and looked through the binoculars. ‘WHAT ARE YOU THINKING ABOUT?’

A warm feeling took over his body, because you must have been watching him for a while, and that filled him with a sense of comfort he hadn’t felt in a long time.

He grabbed the whiteboard that was next to his book full of poems, most about you, and wrote down a simple answer. But he knew it’d make that pretty blush form on your face again. That was something else he was dying to see up close.

‘NOW? YOU,’

Levi was right in his assumption, as he saw your face break out into a smile and a soft blush, and you shook your head as you leaned against the railing.

Before you could think of anything to say back, he erased his words and returned your question, and you purse your lips as you peeked through the binoculars again.

You wandered over to your notepad and took your time writing something back, but Levi wasn’t impatient. Out here, with you just across the way from him, it felt like he had all the time in the world.

And you were worth the wait.

A few minutes passed before you lifted the page and revealed your words, and what pretty words they were. ‘YOU’RE A BREATH OF AIR, LEVI. AND I CAN’T GET ENOUGH OF YOU,’

Levi felt a shudder run through him, because that was exactly how he felt about you. He hadn’t heard you say a word to him, hadn’t seen you up close at all, and yet he couldn’t get enough of you.

And you’d just given him your heart. He’d make damn sure he took care of it, just as long as you took care of his.

With a steady hand, he wrote his response to you on the whiteboard before holding it up, ‘I’M FALLING HARD FOR YOU,’

And now he’d just given you his heart, though something tells him he’d already given it to you a few months ago.

Your eyes closed once you’d read his message, and you pressed your lips together as you flipped to a new page in your book, and Levi watched as you scribbled something down onto it. ‘I KNOW WHAT I WANT. BECAUSE I TOLD YOU MY NAME,’

Levi was instantly taken back to the second night you and he exchanged notes, and how you expected something from him if you told him what your name was. He was more than willing to deliver on whatever it was you wanted.

You took your time again as you wrote something else down, then flipped onto a new page before you even showed him the first one, and a few seconds later, Levi watched you go back to the previous page and hold it up, ‘IF WE EVER GET TO SEE EACH OTHER FOR REAL,’ then you flipped to the last page, ‘THE VERY FIRST THING I WANT YOU TO DO IS KISS ME.’

Levi felt a smug grin form on his face before he pressed his lips together and nodded slowly. He could definitely do that. He’d definitely do that. One hundred percent. Because he wasn’t falling for you anymore. He had already fallen, and there was no going back.

He barely missed a beat as he picked up the marker again and wrote down a question, but it wasn’t really a question. It was more like…a promise.

Once he purposely ended his sentence with a period rather than a question mark, he held the whiteboard up near his chest, which was home to his heart that was secretly beating very fast.

‘YOUR PLACE OR MINE.’

A few days after that last interaction, Levi had been working on the easiest and most efficient way to get across the gaping ravine to you.

He was going to fire off a literal rocket launcher with a zipline attached to it and then would trust you to tie it tight enough to whatever you could find so he didn’t fall into the Gorge.

Once that was done, he made himself look as presentable as he could, which required him to shave a bit and smooth out his hair. Then he picked a small bouquet of wildflowers for you, and then he was off.

The journey across wasn’t so bad, well the first half anyway. The last half required him to pull himself the rest of the way across, but it wasn’t too hard, thanks to all his previous training in the Marines.

With that being said, he was a little breathless when he finally made it over to the East side and unclipped himself from the zipline. His heart was beating fast, and part of it was because of the extra work he didn’t account for just then, but also because he was finally, finally, seeing you face to face.

As he started walking towards your tower, he heard the metal door swing open, and a few seconds later, you turned the corner and met his gaze almost instantly. He moved closer, and you looked as nervous as he felt, which was a cute change to your usual playful and teasing personality.

When he stood only a few inches from you, Levi let his eyes flicker all over your face as he took in all the stunning little details he failed to see through the binoculars, and then he leaned in and pressed his lips to yours in a deep kiss. He wrapped his arms around you and pulled you close as he explored your mouth with his tongue, making sure he satisfied the one thing you told him you wanted him to do when you got to finally meet up.

The second his lips touched yours, it felt like everything had fallen into place. You kissed him back just as intensely, your hands reaching up to cradle his face, and he felt like he could easily become addicted to this.

Levi pulled you impossibly closer, his hands resting rather possessively on your lower back for this being the first time he’s ever touched you, but he couldn’t help himself. You fit against him perfectly, and you simply just felt perfect.

When he finally broke the kiss, he was breathing a little heavier, and he gazed into your eyes as a grin spread across his face. “That,” he whispered, “was definitely worth waiting for.”

You laughed quietly, and he tightened his hold on you even more as he heard your voice for the first time after months of passing notes back and forth. “Absolutely,” you agreed, your thumb brushing along his cheek and smoothing over the ridges that were there from his scars. Your eyes left his and you glanced down at the bouquet he’d tucked into his belt, and he nearly moaned when you bit down on your lip. “Are those for me?”

Levi’s smile felt permanent as he reached down to pull the flowers out and offer them to you. “Of course they’re for you,” he answered, watching as you took them from him like they were the most precious things you’d ever held. His hand went back to your waist as he leaned in closer again. “So…what do we do now?”

He’d technically done what he came here to do, which was to give you the best first kiss of your fucking life, but that wasn’t the only reason, and he hoped that was as obvious to you as it was to him.

You smiled up at him before leaning in as well and draping your arms around his shoulders, your chest pressing right up against his as you hugged him for a few seconds. Your fingers tangled in his hair as you pulled back to kiss him again, this one a little shorter, but still just as amazing as the first one.

“How about I give you a tour? Show you what it’s like over here on the East side?” you offered when you pulled away and pressed your forehead against his, and he knew by the teasing tone in your voice that a tour was probably the last thing that was on your mind.

Still, he hummed and nodded slowly, letting you take his hand in your small one and lead him towards the door and up the stairs. He shamelessly let his eyes wander all over your backside as he trailed behind you, and he couldn’t believe he was finally with you after months of pining.

When you and he got to the top, he looked around the open space for a few seconds. It was about the same size as his tower, but he didn’t have a piano in his, which was a little unfair. “Quite the setup you’ve got here,” he observed, eyeing the mattress you had pulled all the way up here, just like he did with his.

You laughed as you walked over to the small kitchenette that was on the far side of the room, and he quickly decided that it was one of his favorite sounds. “I imagine it looks quite similar to yours,” you murmured as you filled a glass with water before placing the flowers in it and setting it down on the top of the piano.

Levi did another sweep of the relatively simple and clean room. “Can’t say it does,” he replied, shaking his head afterwards. “Yours is definitely better.”

You smile over at him before moving closer and reaching for his hand. “I’m so happy you’re here,” you whispered, pressing a soft kiss to his palm.

Levi’s breath got caught in his throat, and he swallowed quickly as his free hand reached up to cup your cheek. “I’m happy I’m here too,” he said back just as quietly as he stepped closer to you. “So fucking happy.”

The air had been thick with tension since the second he stepped foot on this side, and he tried not to give it too much attention, he really did, but it had only grown thicker, and now all Levi wanted to do was kiss you again, touch you all over, and completely give in.

You were so much shorter than him and moved with a lot more grace than he did as you led him over towards the makeshift bed, and he was content with letting you take the lead, because he was ready when you were, and though he couldn’t wait, he could wait for you.

He pulled you against his chest again, his hands settling on your hips as he looked down at you, and your eyes were so fucking gorgeous up close. Every part of you was. And he wanted to memorize every inch of you before he had to go back to his tower.

Your hands rested on his shoulders, and you gently dug your fingers into his skin as you guided him down until he was on his knees beside the mattress. You followed him down so you were kneeling in front of him, and you still had to look up at him as you caressed his face. “Tell me to stop and I will,” you whispered, your lips curving upwards into a teasing smile. “But I hope you know that I really don’t want to.”

“Then don’t stop,” he said back, his hands reaching for your hips again as he pulled you so you were straddling his lap. You were small in his arms, yet you felt absolutely perfect against him like this. His voice was a little rougher as he repeated the words he would be saying again soon enough, “Don’t stop.”

You let out a shaky sigh, your lips curling up into a relieved smile before you were leaning in and kissing him deeply, like the two before this one. Your hands gently pulled at his hair as you kissed him, and everything felt right. Like he already belonged here. Like he already belonged with you.

When you pulled away from his mouth, your teeth tugged at his bottom lip as you slowly rolled your hips against his, and Levi let out a soft groan. “Do you want to?” you quietly asked, your thumb stroking along his beard and chin.

Did he want to? Were you seriously asking him that right now? He couldn’t get enough of you, couldn’t stop his hands from touching every part of you he’s thought about over and over again while laying on his own bed across the Gorge from you.

“Do I want to?” he echoed, his voice a bit strained as he pulled you against him a little harder. “Fuck yes, I want to.”

You nod quickly and go to bite down on your lip again before Levi leaned in and connected your mouths once more. His big hands slid up your back under your shirt, and he could feel the goosebumps forming on your skin from his touch.

He helped you pull off his jacket and shirt, leaving his chest bare to your eyes when you pulled back to look at him. His thumb traced your bottom lip as your gaze flickered over every inch of his upper half, and you let out a soft sigh. “Fuck…you’re so hot,” you whispered and leaned in to press opened mouthed kisses along his shoulder

Levi groaned under his breath, his head tipping back a bit to give you more access as his hands pulled at your shirt until it was off your body, leaving your top half nearly bare. Your hands were running along his abs and chest when you pulled back and looked at him, your eyes hooded and unguarded.

“Touch me,” you encouraged quietly, and Levi finally let himself indulge in you.

His gaze dropped down to the tops of your breasts that your bra didn’t cover, and he was reminded of the teaser he got that first night when you leaned over the railing. Fuck the view from this angle was even better.

He slid his hands up your back as he leaned his head down and pressed soft kisses to your skin before he buried his face between your flesh. Your moan was music to his ears as he let his fingers fumble with the clasp of your bra, and he slowly guided the straps down your arms.

“God,” he groaned when the fabric hit the floor, and his hands immediately explored the newly exposed skin of your breasts. “You’re so gorgeous.” he breathed, his thumbs brushing over your nipples until they pebbled at his touch.

You were so beautiful, you took his breath away. Your skin was warm and inviting, begging to be touched and worshipped. By him, of course.

He leaned up and kissed you again when you reached down and unzipped his pants before pushing them down his legs. His tongue brushed against yours as he explored your mouth, and then you pulled away to tug off your jeans and panties, and his lips brushed against your hard nipples before you settled back down on his lap.

Levi was so hard for you, he knew you could feel him through his boxers as you rolled your body against his again as you kissed him and ran your fingers through his hair. You pulled away and tugged his boxers down his legs so you both were completely naked, and the setting sun casted golden hues onto your skin in a way that made you look like something straight out of Heaven.

He knew then that he loved you. He could finally admit it to himself. He loves you.

Levi sucked in a harsh breath when you lowered yourself onto him, your heat enveloping his cock like a glove. “Oh fuck,” he groaned at your tightness, one of his hands caressing your lower back while his other wrapped around the back of your neck.

He guided your face down to his so your foreheads were pressed together, and he was met with the beautiful sound of your moan when you started to slowly ride him. “Oh, my God,” you whispered, wrapping your arms tightly around his shoulders as your hips rolled against his.

Levi groaned, feeling your tight pussy squeezing him in a way that had him seeing stars behind his closed eyelids. Your chest brushed against his with every slow bounce, and he loved it. He loved all of it, the feeling, the sounds you were making, how good you felt in his arms.

“You feel amazing,” he rasped out, his hands moving down to your ass. “God…don’t stop.” he begged, repeating his earlier words as he met you halfway with shallow thrusts.

Your hands pulled at his hair as you let out loud moans and moved a bit faster on him. “Levi,” you whimpered, and he felt himself twitch deep inside you, because that was the first time he’d heard what his name sounded like coming from you. And he was already obsessed with it.

“Fuck,” he muttered, gripping you a bit tighter as he buried his face in the crook of your neck. “Say that again. Please, baby.”

You shuddered in his arms, and he had a feeling that you had a thing for pet names, which was definitely something he would keep in mind from here on out.

“Levi,” you moaned again, this time directly into his ear, and he growled lowly, deciding to give you a break as he rolled you onto your side and onto the mattress. He supported himself on his elbow as he began to thrust in and out of you in the new position, his other arm wrapping around you and holding you flush against his chest.

“So tight,” he murmured under his breath, his eyes dark with desire and utter adoration. “So good.”

You moaned a little louder and let him lean down to capture your lips in a messy kiss as he continued to fuck up into you. “Oh, God, you feel so good,” you echoed against his lips as you wrapped your arms tightly around his shoulders.

Levi could feel you tightening around him, and his hand slid back down to your ass as he pulled you harder against him. “Fuck, I’m close,” he muttered, and you nodded quickly as you ran your hands down his back, your nails leaving faint red lines along his skin.

“Me too,” you whispered, and then he felt you tense up in his arms when he thrust a little harder. Your eyes were nearly shut as you moaned for him, and when he felt you tighten around him even more, Levi leaned in and kissed you quickly before he tugged on your bottom lip with his teeth, satisfying his own craving as you came around him.

The sound you made went straight to his cock, and his eyes rolled back a bit as he rolled his hips a few more times before pulling out and coming all over your stomach and thigh.

You were shaking and whimpering as you came down from your high, your body covered in a thin layer of sweat and him. You looked absolutely breathtaking.

He wrapped his arms around you and pulled you close to him as he let out heavy breaths. “I’ve never felt anything like that before,” he confessed, his lips brushing against the top of your head as you snuggled against him.

“Me either,” you said back, and he never wanted to leave your side.

An unknown amount of time passed before you and he finally got up and showered together, and his hands never left your body for more than a few seconds. He accidentally let it slip up that he had written a handful of poems about you, and you begged him to read them to you, but he told you he would the next time he got to hold you against him after today.

That was his promise to you. That this was just the first time you and he got to properly see each other. It wasn’t the last.

When the time to go to sleep came, Levi held your body in his arms like you were always meant to be there, and for the first time in a very long time, his nightmares didn’t wake him up.

The next morning, when he was forced to return back to the West side, Levi kissed you until you were breathless, then he was making the trek across the Gorge and back to his own watchtower.

Later that day, just as the sun was starting to set, Levi was well past the point of missing you. He was cold without you, the quiet now louder than ever after the day and night he spent with you.

When he glanced over at your tower, he saw you already looking at him, your notepad held up in your hands, and he sighed.

He could live like this for a little while longer. But after this? After this, he was going to figure out a way to be with you properly. Because he was tired of being alone. He wanted you.

‘I’M COLD AGAIN…MISS YOUR WARMTH ALREADY. AND YOUR LIPS,’

Levi smiled at that and shook his head as he grabbed his whiteboard. He missed all of you already.

Once he’d finished writing down his own message to you, he held it up for you to read, and the smile you gave him was all the reassurance he needed to know that this was real. This was the real thing. And it was just the beginning.

After this, he’d never be alone again.

‘KEEP WARM, BABY. TIL WE MEET AGAIN…ALWAYS THINKING OF YOU.’

Thanks for reading x | @thetorturedpoetcalleddez @broosterradley @spookystitchery @afangirlfandom @different-tale-student @impossibleblizzardstudentposts @shanimallina87

#levi kane #levi kane imagine #levi kane imagines #levi kane x reader #levi kane fluff #levi kane smut #levi kane the gorge #the gorge #the gorge 2025 #the gorge movie #the gorge levi kane #the gorge miles teller #miles teller #levi kane fic

82 notes · View notes

goldfades · 3 days ago

Text

the same person ─── luka dončić⁷⁷ (crash out couple)

free palestine carrd 🇵🇸 decolonize palestine site 🇵🇸 how you can help palestine | FREE PALESTINE!

⟢ ┈ 𝐰𝐨𝐫𝐝 𝐜𝐨𝐮𝐧𝐭 | 1.3k

⟢ ┈ 𝐬𝐮𝐦𝐦𝐚𝐫𝐲 | valentine's day w/ ur fav crashout's!

⟢ ┈ 𝐰𝐚𝐫𝐧𝐢𝐧𝐠𝐬 | some banter, bad cook luka, other than it's just fluff!

You wake up to the smell of something burning.

Not exactly the most romantic start to Valentine’s Day, but at this point, you know exactly what’s happening.

Luka’s in the kitchen.

Which means your kitchen is currently a war zone.

You sigh, stretching out against the warm sheets before dragging yourself up. The bedroom door is already cracked open, and you can hear him moving around—heavy footsteps, cabinet doors swinging open, the occasional muttered curse in Slovenian.

You step out, barefoot, tugging on Luka’s sweatshirt from last night, and immediately stop at the sight in front of you.

Luka stands in front of the stove, concentrated as hell, with a spatula in hand and an extremely questionable pancake situation unfolding on the skillet.

The first thing you notice? The heart-shaped pancake mold he’s trying so hard to use.

The second thing? The already burnt attempts sitting on a plate to the side.

You bite back a laugh, leaning against the counter, watching as he very delicately tries to flip the batter.

“How’s it going, chef?” you tease.

Luka jumps, nearly drops the spatula, and then whips around to see you standing there. He looks—guilty, like he got caught doing something illegal, and then a little sheepish as he glances back at his pancake disaster.

“I wanted to make you breakfast,” he mutters, rubbing a hand over his face.

You grin, stepping closer, peeking over his shoulder. “And instead, you made… this.”

“Hey.” He shoots you a look, reaching behind to pinch your hip. “I tried.”

You laugh, wrapping your arms around his waist from behind, pressing your cheek against his back. “I love that you tried.”

He exhales, dropping the spatula, and turns in your arms, wrapping you up in a hug. “I was gonna bring it to you in bed.”

You hum, grinning against his chest. “And if I took one bite, you’d have to carry me to the hospital.”

Luka groans, nudging his face into your neck. “You are so annoying.”

“But you love me.”

“Unfortunately.”

The thing about Luka is that he’s not really an over-the-top, grand-gesture type of guy.

He’s more quiet in his affection. More about being there, making sure you have what you need, showing up in all the little ways that make it so easy to love him.

But Valentine’s Day? He tries.

And this year?

This year, he planned.

You don’t even realize what’s happening until you’re already in the car, sitting in the passenger seat while Luka drives you out toward the coast, one hand resting on your thigh, the other gripping the wheel.

“Are you gonna tell me where we’re going?” you ask, glancing at him.

He just smirks, shaking his head. “Nope.”

You squint. “So you do have something planned?”

“I always have something planned.”

You snort. “That is such a lie.”

Luka laughs, squeezing your leg. “Just wait.”

You should have known he’d pull some shit like this.

Because an hour later, you’re sitting on a private beach, tucked away under a sunshade, waves rolling lazily in front of you, a whole setup in place—blankets, pillows, a small table with your favorite food, and Luka sitting beside you, looking very pleased with himself.

“You really did this?” you ask, still in awe.

Luka, leaning back on his hands, grins. “I did this.”

You shake your head, biting your lip to stop the stupid smile from spreading across your face. “Wow. My man’s a romantic now.”

“I always have been,” he says, nudging you with his knee.

You raise a brow. “Oh, really?”

“Yeah.” He smirks, reaching out, brushing his fingers along your jaw. “Why do you think I got you in the first place?”

You roll your eyes, but your face is warm—because he’s right.

Luka pulls you in, settling you between his legs, wrapping his arms around your waist as you both sit there, watching the waves, just existing in the moment.

It’s peaceful. Warm. Easy.

And with Luka? It always is.

By the time dinner rolls around, you and Luka have fully settled into your usual back-and-forth rhythm—the kind of banter that could make people at the next table think y’all have been married for decades.

“Are you seriously still talking about the pancakes?” Luka groans, shaking his head as he cuts into his steak.

“Yes, because you tried to poison me this morning,” you say, pointing at him with your fork.

“It was one burnt pancake—”

“It was all of them, Luka.”

He exhales through his nose, taking a sip of his wine like he needs the strength to deal with you. “You’re so dramatic.”

“You set off the smoke detector.”

“You’re welcome,” he deadpans.

You blink. “For what?”

“For making sure it works.”

You stare at him. “You are so lucky you’re cute.”

He smirks, reaching over to steal a piece of your food off your plate. “I know.”

You slap his hand away, but it’s too late. Luka grins, popping it into his mouth and leaning back in his chair, looking very smug.

“You literally have your own meal,” you say, exasperated.

“Yours tastes better.”

You glare. “Because you stole it.”

He just shrugs, sipping his wine again like the menace he is.

Your teammates—who were definitely listening in—are dying at this whole conversation, especially when Luka, with zero shame, tries to steal another bite.

“Oh my god,” you groan, holding your plate away from him.

“I just wanna try it,” he says.

“You already did.”

“But—”

“You have your own food.”

“But—”

“Luka.”

Sabrina chokes on her drink, trying so hard not to laugh at you two literally bickering like an old married couple.

Luka, though? He’s so entertained.

He leans in, propping his chin on his hand, watching you with that boyish, shit-eating grin that he knows drives you insane. “You like arguing with me, don’t you?”

You huff, shaking your head. “I’d like to get through a meal without having to defend my plate.”

He laughs, full and unbothered. “Too bad.”

You roll your eyes, about to say something else, when you notice him subtly reach for something in his pocket.

Then—he places a small, velvet box in front of you.

Your breath hitches.

“…Luka?”

His grin softens. “Open it.”

You glance at him, then at the box, then back at him—before carefully picking it up and flipping it open.

Inside?

A diamond necklace with your jersey number in delicate, sparkling detail.

You gasp, eyes going wide. “Luka—”

He tilts his head, watching you closely, waiting for your reaction.

You stare at the necklace, your heart doing something stupid in your chest, and then you press your lips together, exhaling sharply through your nose.

Because you can’t believe this.

Because—

You reach into your own bag and pull out a matching box.

Luka blinks. “Wait—”

You slide it across the table.

He picks it up, already shaking his head. “No way.”

“Open it.”

He does.

Inside?

The same exact necklace—except with his jersey number.

A beat of silence.

Then—

You both burst into laughter.

“Are you serious?” Luka wheezes, holding the box like he can’t believe it.

You shake your head, grinning so hard your cheeks hurt. “We’re literally morphing into the same person.”

Luka leans forward, shaking his head with a huge smile. “This is actually insane.”

“You are insane.”

“You are,” he shoots back.

You just laugh, reaching over to grab his face with both hands, pressing a kiss to his lips. He hums against your mouth, smiling, hands sliding around your waist to tug you closer.

When you pull back, Luka’s still grinning, eyes soft as he looks at you.

“I love you,” he murmurs.

You run your thumb over his cheek, still holding his face. “Yeah, I know.”

He laughs, shaking his head before kissing you again.

And honestly?

This might just be the best Valentine’s Day yet.

#luka doncic #luka doncic x reader #luka dončić #luka dončić x reader

82 notes · View notes

captivating-flavors · 2 days ago

Text

date | zayne

pairing: zayne x non mc actress!reader

prompt: -

summary: you did your own stunt but it went wrong.

words: 1,680ish

warning(s): mentions of loss

a/n: inspired by this hc by @sylusonychinus and valentines day also i think i have to preface this by saying that english is not my first language and my laptop broke down so this is poorly edited and.... yeahh enjoy <3 reblogs, comments and feedbacks are much appreciated since its been a while since i wrote anything

It was supposed to be a simple stunt; that’s why the Director even allowed you to do it in the first place. You were supposed to jump of the railing, with a harness attached of course, but accidents happen and you ended up having to land earlier than the timing agreed beforehand. You didn’t have enough experiences with stunts, therefore you panicked and landed on the wrong position.

“I’m fine, Tara.” You said as you were holding an icebag against your right foot.

“What do you mean you’re fine? Your ankle is purple and swollen!”

“The standby medic said it was fine. You didn’t need to call for a freaking doctor.” You knew Tara, you best friend and assistant, meant well but calling for a doctor over a sprained ankle is just way too dramatic.

“No, but what if it doesn’t heal right? Or what if–”

“Don’t be so dramatic. I’m pretty sure Dr. Greyson, who’s a heart doctor mind you, has other and more important things to do than tend to a sprained ankle, don’t you think?”

Tara had been dating Greyson for the past few months and it’s not the first time Tara has called him over for you. She did that once when you got a fever after shooting a scene in the rain and another time when you caught a stomach bug.

“He’s a cardiac surgeon–”

“Exactly, my point why would he–”

“Also, that’s not who I called.”

“Wait, what? Then, who’d you–”

At that exact moment, the door to your trailer swung open and Dr. Zayne, the Dr. Zayne, walked in carrying a small white bag.

“Wait, Dr. Zayne? What– Why are you here?”

“I heard from Tara that you got into an accident. What happened?” Zayne looked frantic, a detachment to what you’re used to seeing from him, calm and composed.

You were about open your mouth, to tell him that it was not a big deal and to just go back to the hospital, when Tara interjected, “She fell, sprained her ankle and now it’s swollen. You should–”

“Miss Tara, could you please come to the Director’s tent? Thank you.” The walkie-talkie snapped onto Tara’s waistband interrupted her.

“I have to go. Thanks for coming Dr. Zayne.” Tara said before she left the trailer, leaving the two of you alone.

Zayne walked over to your chair and knelt in front of you, taking your right foot in his hands, examining the swollen area of your ankle. You winced as he tilts your foot from one side to another.

“It’s fine. It’s not a big deal. The medic said it’ll heal in a few weeks. You must be pretty busy so you should head back, Dr. Zayne.”

“I told you to call me Zayne.” He said as he grabbed a compression wrap from his bag and started wrapping it around your ankle.

He did tell you that the last time you guys met, when you came over to the hospital to give him coffee and visit the kids two months ago.

The two of you have somewhat of an odd relationship. You first met him at a fundraising event held by a charity specializing in helping children in need to get treatments and surgeries for Protocore Syndrome two years ago. Where the two of you had a meaningful conversation about wanting to help those with the disease, whilst also keeping the memory of the ones you’ve lost. Your sister and his childhood best friend.

And then there’s Tara and Greyson. Tara would visit him during the monthly filming breaks and more often than not you’d come with her. At first, you only tagged along to do somewhat-of-a-research for an upcoming project that you’ll be filming in eight months, in which you were cast as the lead in a medical romcom. At some point, the hospital visits got boring because you would only sit on the lounge as to not intrude on Tara and Greyson’s time together, and observe the doctors as they rush through the halls to tend to their patients.

On your visits, you rarely ever encountered Zayne. Greyson had mention that whenever he’s not in surgery, he prefers to spend his free time in his office. Until one day, you were sitting on one of the seats in the lounge, doing your usual people watching routine when you saw him.

“Dr. Zayne, what a lovely surprise.”

“Likewise, Miss Y/N.” He responded, as polite and curt as ever, continuing to stride towards the nurse station a few feet away from your seat. You felt that it was nice to see a somewhat familiar face because the observation had just gotten boring, since it does not seem like a busy day at the hospital.

“I told you, just Y/N is fine. I never see you around during my previous visits.”

“So, what brings you here,” he pauses, before continuing, “Y/N?”

“Tara wanted to see Greyson and I agreed to come along since I needed a breather from the scripts, rehearsing and all that. Oh, and I’ve also been taking notes of how doctors act and work, you know, for a project.”

“I see.”

He turns his attention to the nurse behind the station desk, “Hello, Yvonne.”

“Good morning, Dr. Zayne. I assume you’re here for the treats?”

“Yes.”

The nurse grabbed a small jar of what seemed to be candy and hands it over to him, “Here you go.”

“Thank you."

“So, what are you up to, Dr. Zayne?”

“I’m visiting my younger patients over at the kids’ ward.”

“Oh, that's so sweet of you, Dr. Zayne.”

He hesitated for a moment before saying, “Would you like to join me?”

“Alright, why not?”

You tagged along and got on to the elevator behind him, him pressing the sixth-floor button.

“So, you’re just going to hand them candies?”

“Yes. To cheer them up as they recover, I suppose.”

The two of you arrived at the sixth-floor and got off the elevator to a hallway of rooms, all of them filled with kids and their families as they recover. You follow behind Zayne as he approaches the first of the beds, where a young girl, probably seven or eight, sits up.

“Hello, Eleanor.”

“Hi, Doctor Zayne.” The child says cheerfully.

“How are you feeling today? Does anything hurt?” He asks as he places the end of his stethoscope over the girl’s heart and she shakes her head in response.

“Have you been taking your medicine regularly?”

“Yes, but they taste awful.” The child grimaces.

“Here’s your reward for listening to your doctor well and it might help with the bitterness.” He hands the kid two pieces of wrapped candy.

“Thank you, Doctor Zayne! But, Doctor, why is the Princess of Solon behind you?” Eleanor questioned, referring to your character from your latest movie.

“Well, she’s here to cheer you up.” He says as he nudges you forward.

“Hello, Eleanor.” You said, putting on your princess voice.

And that was the start to your somewhat tradition with Zayne. The two of you would come to the kids’ ward, he’d check on their progress, give them their rewards and you’d talk and take pictures with them. It was refreshing to see that there was actually a warmer side to Zayne, as opposed to the polite and curt side he always seemed to project.

“That was fun. We should do that again.”

“I agree. The kids were infinitely happier in the presence of the Princess of Solon.”

And that became a regular thing. Every time you had your monthly breaks, the two of you would spend the day at the hospital chatting and playing with the kids. It just became a regular way for you to spend the day or two off each month you got it. You also managed to feel somewhat closer to Zayne through the days spent together, as you genuinely enjoyed spending the day with him. Seeing him interact with the kids and care so much about more than just their physical well-being made you admire him even more.

But despite being able to act warmly towards the children, whenever it was just the two of you it felt like he’d go back and forth from his warm side to his regular curt self. He’d open up a little bit, do little things that makes your heart race like remember your exact coffee order and have it ready by the time you came by, but then he’d shut down again, going back to his distant self. But you still looked forward to seeing him and spending the day with him each break.

A gentle pressure against your foot brought you back to the present.

“Well, you did. But you’re always so…”

His voice from your last meeting two months ago rang in your head.

“You know, you can just call me Zayne.”

“I hope to hear it the next time we meet.”

He looked up at you, “So what?”

“Formal? I don’t think that’s the right word. I don’t know. You always seem so close but distant at the same time that it kind of sounds weird to just say your name like... Zayne.”

He stopped, never taking his eyes off yours, “Say that again.”

“Zayne.”

He shifted his gaze back down and continued to wrap the bandage over your ankle, putting slight pressure against the adhesive, making you wince. And you swore that his ears were red.

“There. You should be fine in about two weeks as long as you don’t move too much.”

“Thank you. But really, you didn’t have to come all this way for a sprained ankle. It didn’t even hurt, much.”

“I didn’t come for a sprained ankle. I came for you.”

That was not the response you expected from him, “…What?”

“I was worried when I heard from Tara that you’d gotten into an accident. I wanted to come and see for myself that you were alright. And you haven’t been to the hospital in a while. The kids missed you.”

“Yeah, about that. I haven’t gotten a day off in the past two months since they’re reshooting some of the scenes and–”

“Also, I missed you. And I’d rather not wait for another accident to see you.”

“I– What?” To say you were baffled by the confession would be an understatement.

“Let’s have dinner instead. When you’re all better, of course.”

“Are you asking me out, Zayne?”

“Yes.” You chuckled, amused at despite how confident and blunt he sounded, yet you could see the entire time that his ears were red.

“...Alright, then. Let’s set a date once I’m doing better,” you paused to smile at him, “Zayne.”

#zayne #lnds x you #lnds x reader #lads zayne #lnds zayne #love and deepspace zayne #l&ds zayne #li shen #zayne li #zayne love and deepspace #zayne x reader #zayne x you #zayne x y/n #zayne x non mc #rae writes things

75 notes · View notes

just-my-latest-hyperfixation · 1 day ago

Text

It's a satanist thing, you wouldn't understand

Written for the Kissing Booth bonus card of the @steddiebingo

Prompt: First Date

Words: 2,067 [also on AO3]

Rated: T

Tags: Post-Vecna; Everybody lives; Established relationship; Good babysitter Steve; Good babysitter Eddie; Sexual harassment (mild); Bullying; Implied sexual content; Eddie Munson is a little shit

“Lucas, do you copy? It’s Steve.”

It takes approximately two seconds for Lucas’s voice to crackle back over the walkie, which probably means he had it lying on the nightstand right next to him, waiting for updates.

“I’m here. What’s the status?”

“Well, the good news,” Steve says, keeping his eyes trained on the movie theatre across the street so that he doesn’t have to look at Eddie sulking in the passenger seat, “is that they’ve made it to the theatre, and everything looked perfectly fine. All hands stayed where they’re supposed to be and he even held the door for her.”

“Okay?” Lucas sounds far less elated at that than he hoped he would, but that might be the effects of the flu. “What’s the bad news?”

Steve sighs. “Well, she saw us.”

The static hum of the line is loud in the ensuing silence.

“Oh. How did that go?”

Eddie snatches the walkie from Steve’s hand. “How do you think it went, Sinclair? She told us to, and I quote, get our sorry asses outta there and tell Lucas to stop poking his germ-infested nose into her affairs.”

“Don’t mind him,” Steve says, wrangling the walkie back and leaning out of Eddie’s reach as far as the limited space of the Beemer will allow. “He’s just grouchy because he won’t get to see Tom Cruise mixing cocktails.”

“So you’re out-... sorry, one moment.” Lucas interrupts himself for a speaker-rattling sneeze. “You’re outside now?”

“Yup, in the car. You want us to try and sneak back in or-”

“No, leave it. You know what she’s like. Just … can you stick around, just in case? I don’t have a good feeling about that Todd guy.”

Steve rolls his eyes fondly. “Sure thing, Lucas. You go back to sleep, we got this. Over.”

“We got this?” Eddie repeats as Steve puts the walkie back on the middle console. “What exactly have we got, Stevie? All we’re gonna be having is a stiff neck from sitting in your fucking car and watching the stupid theatre for hours, and all because you can’t tell these kids no for-”

“Oh, as if you could,” Steve says. “Cut Lucas some slack, it’s his baby sister’s first date, and he’s worried.”

Eddie crosses his arms and sulks back into the leather seat.

“Dunno what he’s so worried about. I’ve seen his baby sister fend off two grown demogorgons with a broken chair, you’d think she’d be perfectly capable of handling the pitfalls of teenage dating life, wouldn’t you?”

“Oh yeah?” Steve snarks. “And what would you know of teenage dating life?”

Eddie shrugs, unimpressed, leaning over into Steve’s space with a wide, lecherous grin. One ring-clad hand reaches out over the middle console to brush his thigh.

“Touché, my king. All I’m saying is I can think of more fun things on a Saturday night than- … What?”

Steve, who has bolted upright in his seat and started making frantic shushing motions, points at something outside. “Look!”

Sure enough, the doors of the theatre have swung open to reveal none other than Erica Sinclair. Without sparing as much as a glance at Steve’s car, she stomps over to where her bike is leaning on the corner of the building. Even from the distance, it’s glaringly evident that she’s fuming with rage.

“That isn’t good,” Steve mutters, already pushing open his door. From the corner of his eye, he can see Eddie follow behind him as he hurries across the street. “Erica? What’s wrong?”

“Go away,” she barks, dragging the bike around and out into the street, but Steve positions himself in front of her and Eddie to her side.

“Oh no, young lady,” he rumbles in his best, strict DM voice. “The man asked you a question. What the hell happened?”

“I got thrown out, okay?” she snaps, but she doesn’t meet Eddie’s eyes like she normally would. Instead, she seems weirdly interested in the colorful streamers hanging off her handlebars. “No big deal.”

Steve feels his jaw drop. “No big- … Thrown out? How the fuck did you manage that?”

She shrugs petulantly. Steve puts his hands on his hips. She draws a long, exasperated breath, letting the words rush out on the exhale in one long, near incomprehensible string.

“Todd asked if he could kiss me, I said no, he tried to sneak his fingers under my skirt, I said to keep his hands to himself, he said he wouldn’t wanna kiss a satanist freak anyhow, so I decked him. Happy?”

Steve isn’t happy. Steve is very far from happy, in fact. He’s aware that Erica is staring at him, eyes weirdly shiny, and that Eddie has gone very still and pale by her side, but he can’t say anything because his throat is closing up and his vision is slowly filling with dark pinpricks of red. His hand is curling and uncurling by his side, longing for the familiar feel of a bat or ax or anything else to swing.

“I’m sorry,” Erica says, but she’s talking to Eddie now. “You shouldn’t still have to deal with all of that, it’s fucking horrible.”

Eddie smiles, bold and brave and beautiful, lurching forward to pull her into a hug. It ends up a bit awkward since her bike is still wedged between them, but she allows it without so much as a scoff.

“Aw, m’lady,” he coos, but the look he shoots at Steve over the top of her head is sharp as a blade. Steve feels a shiver run down his spine. He knows that look. It means Eddie has a plan, and neither hell and all its devils nor an overprotective boyfriend are gonna keep him from seeing it through. “Ever the valiant one, looking out for little old me and what small sliver of honor I can still call my own. However … it’s your honor that has been insulted here, and that’s the far greater slight.”

She shrugs, pulling out of the hug. “Well yeah, but-”

Eddie holds up a hand.

“Ah-ah-ah! Don't give me buts, I don't like buts.”

She quirks a brow at him. “That's a lie and we both know it. I've seen how you look at Steve's.”

“Hey,” Steve sputters, “I'm right here, you know?”

“Be that as it may,” Eddie concedes. “Methinks we cannot let that vile scoundrel go unpunished. What say you, good lady and fine sir?”

Steve would like to say that a scoundrel sounds like a small woodland animal, but he doesn’t. He knows better than to argue with them when they get like this.

Steve hangs back in a doorway as Eddie asked him to, so he can't be entirely sure if the squeal that reaches his ears when Todd rounds the corner comes from the tires of his bike or from the boy himself. Maybe he wasn’t that far off with small woodland animal after all.

“What do you want?” Todd barks at Erica, once he's over the initial shock. Even in the low light of the alley, Steve can see the bruise under his eye. He has to give it to her, she got him good. Then again, he never expected anything less of her. “I thought I told you to get lost.”

She squares her shoulders and juts out her chin, fearless as always, but before she can reply, Eddie peels himself from the shadows and joins her.

“My, my. You were right, m’lady. He really does show an alarming lack of manners.”

Todd's eyes grow large with shock, but he's quick to slip his cocky facade back on. His knuckles have gone white around the handlebars.

“What is this?” he asks Erica. “You can't take care of your own shit so you go crying to your cult leader to-”

Eddie tuts. “Watch your words. That’s alleged cult leader to you. They were never able to prove me anything.”

“Whatever,” Todd scoffs. It comes out a little wobbly because his voice has gone about half an octave higher. “I don’t have time for this shit.”

He tries to get back up on his bike, but Eddie steps into his way.

“Oh, but we’re not done yet. You still need to apologize to Lady Applejack here for your uncouth advances.”

“Lady Apple-” Todd says. “What the hell?”

Erica shrugs. “It’s a satanist thing. You wouldn’t understand.”

Steve can practically see the mental gymnastics Todd’s brain is performing while he tries to decide whether or not she’s serious. Sweat is starting to bead below his hairline and his mouth moves silently.

“I dunno what she told you,” he finally says. “But I didn’t do-”

“No means no, dude,” Eddie rumbles. “And if nobody has taught you basic manners yet, maybe you’ll need to learn the hard way. I’ve cursed off people’s dicks for less, y’know?”

Todd goes almost comically pale.

“You wouldn’t-” he stammers. Steve didn’t think his voice could go any higher, but here they are. “That’s not- … You’re bluffing! You can’t do that!”

Eddie smiles. His teeth are bright in the dark of the alley.

“Maybe I can and maybe I can’t. Would you like to find out?”

Todd gulps. Looks at Erica, then at Eddie, then at Erica again. Eddie makes a show of flicking an invisible speck of dust off his skull ring.

“Okay, jeez, I’m sorry!” Todd blurts. “Will you freaks let me go now?”

“M’lady?” Eddie asks.

Erica ponders this for a moment. “Could’ve been more heartfelt, but I’ll let it slide. I’m feeling generous today.”

Eddie steps out of the way with a dramatic flourish. “You may pass, my man. I'd say my good man, but you'll understand I have my doubts.”

Todd grabs his bike and roughly shoulders past him.

“Whatever,” he grumbles. “This is such bullshit.”

He's just about to swing himself into the saddle when he sees Steve leaning in the doorway.

“Wait a minute,” he says. “You're that Harrington guy. Your picture’s in the trophy case at school. You were, like, on the swim team and the basketball team. Why are you hanging out with those sickos instead of stopping them?”

Steve catches Eddie’s gaze. Then, casting nervous glances in all directions, he leans forward, cupping a hand to his face to shield his words.

“Dude, I'd love to help you, I really would,” he whispers. “But I gotta do what he says if I want my dick back.”

Todd lets out a rush of air that is somewhere between a flat tyre and the whimper of a frightened animal. A distinct hue of pale green settles over his nose. Then, without so much as a glance back, he jumps on his bike and pedals off into the night. Eddie watches him round the corner, then waits another two or three seconds for good measure before he starts howling with laughter.

“Jesus, look at him run! What a loser!”

Erica huffs and crosses her arms.

“Can’t believe I used to date him,” she jokes, but it comes out rather half-heartedly. She clears her throat, eyes flicking between Eddie and Steve, who has stepped out of his hiding place to join them. “You sure this was a good idea? He might talk …”

“Not if he values his dick, he won’t,” Eddie says, and gives Steve a slow, pointed wink. “Didn’t know there was a secret drama nerd lurking under all that hair, Stevie.”

“Well,” Steve rolls his eyes, even as his face heats up from the praise. “There's a lot of stuff you haven't found out about me yet.”

Eddie's smile grows sharper.

“Hey,” Erica shouts from the exit of the alley and they flinch apart. “Is one of you dorks gonna help me put my bike in the car or am I supposed to do it myself?”

Eddie takes one look at Steve's scowl and snorts. “Guess we're on chauffeur duty again.”

“Guess so,” Steve sighs. “C'mon, let's get going.”

As they make their way to the car, Eddie leans into his space and slips a hand into his back pocket.

“My place after? I think I just heard something about you having to do everything I say?”

Steve chuckles. “Yeah. If you'd listened a little better, you'd have heard that I'm also missing a vital part right now, so…”

“Oh, honey,” Eddie winks. “We'll make do. You won't need a dick for what I have in mind, anyway.”

More Steddie Bingo

#steddie #steve x eddie #steve harrington x eddie munson #steddie fanfic #steddie brainrot #fanfiction writer #fanfiction #fanfic #my writing #steddiebingo2025 #steddiebingokiss #hype's steddie bingo

80 notes · View notes