#yeah no i hear it i’ve been on tiktok way too much lately

[yaytheboop]

You’re on «rapunzel should be played by a blonde, white girl» tiktok, I’m on «ned flames aka fox szn shouldn’t be cancelled for that baby falling out of a tree FOUR years ago» tiktok. We’re not the same

[obvithe-bestsoph]

Hi! Could you please (if only you don't mind) write some story about Pedri with baby fever. Love your works with my whole heart! Thank you very much!

baby fever.

masterlist requests word count: 1k (exactly lol)

a/n: cute fluffy pedri yay genre: fluff. warnings: children.

summary: pedri goes absolutely soft whenever he has a baby in his arms.

It starts when you're out grocery shopping.

You don’t expect Pedri to stop dead in his tracks near the fruit section, eyes locked on something just beyond your shoulder. You follow his gaze, assuming he’s seen someone he knows, maybe a teammate or a fan. But no. His entire body has gone still for something far more dangerous.

A baby.

More specifically, a very chubby-cheeked toddler sitting in a trolley, babbling nonsense at a banana like it’s speaking back. The baby has curly brown hair and a onesie with blue onesie, and you can hear Pedri’s heart melting next to you. He’s not even blinking.

“Oh no,” you say, poking his shoulder. “Don’t even start.”

“What?” he says, clearly offended, though his expression is still soft and adoring. “I didn’t say anything.”

“You didn’t have to.”

The baby giggles, clapping its hands, and Pedri exhales like someone just punched him in the stomach. “Look at him. He’s- he’s got tiny socks with ducks on them.”

You physically have to drag him toward the bread aisle before he offers to babysit a complete stranger’s child. He glances back over his shoulder like he’s leaving a piece of himself behind.

The obsession doesn’t stop there. If anything, it ramps up.

You catch him scrolling baby TikToks in bed the next morning, the volume turned down low so he doesn’t wake you. But you stir anyway, mostly because he’s laughing softly under his breath at a video of twin babies in matching pajamas.

When he notices you looking, he just grins and holds out his phone. “Tell me you wouldn’t want this.”

You blink at the screen. The babies are playing with a golden retriever. You bury your face in the pillow.

“Too early,” you mumble. “I haven’t even had coffee.”

“Babies don’t drink coffee either. That’s why they’re so peaceful.”

You groan and throw the blanket over your head.

The signs only get worse.

He volunteers to hold your friend’s baby at a dinner party and absolutely refuses to give her back. He rocks her gently the entire night, bouncing on the balls of his feet like he’s been doing this for years. When she falls asleep against his shoulder, he whispers, “She trusts me. Do you see this? She trusts me.”

“Yeah, well, she also just spit up on your hoodie,” you say, reaching over with a napkin.

He doesn’t even flinch. “Worth it.”

You bring it up one night when you're doing the dishes together.

“Be honest,” you say, passing him a clean plate to dry. “Do you have baby fever?”

Pedri shrugs, but there’s a guilty little smile tugging at his mouth. “Maybe. It’s not that crazy, right?”

“Depends on if you’re planning to come home with a stroller tomorrow.”

He chuckles. “No strollers. Yet.”

You lean your hip against the counter, narrowing your eyes playfully. “Where’s this coming from, though? I didn’t think you were that into kids.”

He sets the plate aside, a bit more thoughtful now. “I wasn’t. I mean, not in a real way. But I don’t know. Lately, it’s like I see a baby and think... wow. That could be ours. And I think I’d be good at it. Not perfect, but… you know. I’d try hard.”

The vulnerability in his voice is quiet, but it knocks the air right out of your lungs.

You tilt your head. “You’d be so good, Pedri.”

He smiles at the floor. “You think so?”

You nod. “I’ve seen the way you make kids feel safe. Even adults feel safe around you.”

He glances up, meeting your eyes. “Even you?”

You fake a dramatic sigh. “I guess I feel safe around you.”

That earns you a wet towel to the face.

A few days later, he proves your point without even realizing it.

You’re on a walk when you pass a crying toddler on the sidewalk. His mother is frantically digging through her bag, clearly trying to find something to calm him down, but nothing’s working.

Pedri crouches without hesitation.

“Hey, amigo,” he says gently. “What’s going on, huh?”

The kid sniffles, looking suspicious of this stranger with dark hair and soft eyes. Pedri pretends to look shocked.

“You have no idea where your toy went? Eso es una locura. We should send out a search party. You can be the captain.”

The kid giggles, hiccuping through his tears. Pedri grins.

By the time the mother finds the missing toy car, her son is fully enchanted, clutching Pedri’s hand like they’re old friends. She thanks him over and over, but Pedri just waves it off like it’s nothing.

You watch him, arms crossed, smiling so hard it almost hurts.

Later, when you bring it up again, he just shrugs.

“I just don’t like seeing them cry,” he says. “I want to fix it, even if I can’t always.”

That’s when you know it for sure. He doesn’t just have baby fever. He has dad instincts.

That night, curled under a blanket, he holds you a little tighter than usual. There’s a calm silence between you. No TikToks. No teasing. Just warmth.

“I don’t need it to happen right away,” he murmurs. “I just like the idea that maybe one day, we could have that. You and me. A little us.”

You press your face to his chest.

“I like that idea too.”

He sighs into your hair. “Would our kid like football, you think?”

“Hopefully,” you answer. “They’d be amazing, I’m sure. Just like their papá.”

Pedri grins. “Can I pick out their first jersey?”

“You’re already planning their wardrobe?”

“Obviously. You think I wouldn’t dress our baby better than you?”

You laugh and he kisses the top of your head.

It’s not something you’re rushing. You still have time, goals, lives to live. But the way he talks about it, so softly, so seriously, makes your heart fold in on itself.

Because yeah. One day? You wouldn’t mind that at all. And neither would he.

[valeisaslut]

Hey val! just wanted to say collide is genuinely incredible. genuinely one of the best pieces of writing i’ve ever read, not exaggerating. I’ve been seeing you absolutely burning ellie to shreds and it made me wonder, what’s popstar!reader’s backstory? read she came from the voice but is there more to her pre-ellie life? she seems so layered and complex on her own, and i’d love to know how she got to where she is now. any lore you can share??

omg first of all—thank you so much for this, seriously. it means the world that you’re even asking about reader’s backstory. i’ve spent just as much time building her as i did ellie, and i love that she’s getting some of the spotlight too!

popstar!reader’s backstory is a little quieter than ellie’s, but it’s just as important.

she was just a normal girl, honestly. small town, two parents, one younger sibling. soft-spoken, always lost in her own little world—writing lyrics on her forearm in pen and humming melodies while unloading the dishwasher.

her parents were sweet but practical, the kind of people who clapped at school recitals and told her to make sure her dreams had health insurance. supportive in that detached, surface-level, “good for you, honey” way.

she taught herself how to sing, how to play guitar, and later piano—mostly in secret. lessons felt like too much of an ask. her family wasn’t struggling, but money was always discussed with that careful tone, like even wanting something made you selfish. so she figured it out alone. saved up for her first guitar by babysitting, bought a secondhand keyboard off Facebook Marketplace, and sang quietly into her pillow late at night so no one would hear.

she taught herself how to produce on GarageBand when she was fourteen, recording rough demos on an old laptop that overheated if she used too many vocal layers.

she'd mimic runs from old YouTube covers, learn chords from blurry tutorial videos, and practice until her fingers went numb. there were nights her voice would crack and she'd cry out of frustration, but she always came back to it. because no matter how hard it was—music made her feel like someone.

she wasn’t popular. not disliked, just… overlooked. you’d find her sitting in the back of the bus, hoodie up, scribbling verses in the margins of her homework. she barely even spoke in class, but when she sang? people shut up and listened. she just didn’t let them very often. the want was always there, but the fear was just as loud.

and then came 10th grade. her first real heartbreak. a girl from her English class—older, confident, the kind of girl who knew the effect she had on people. reader fell hard. it was messy, unrequited, and when the girl said “i’m not into girls like that” with a casual shrug? it destroyed her. she wrote ten songs that month. none of them were happy. she posted one of them on SoundCloud under a fake name. it got 43 listens. she made it her phone wallpaper.

no one thought she’d actually do anything with music. her teachers told her to “focus more on the sciences,” and her guidance counselor literally said, “sweetheart, music is a lovely hobby, but not a career.”

no one ever really believed she’d make it.

and honestly? most of the time, neither did she.

but something clicked her senior year. she was tired of being scared. tired of hiding. so she said fuck it—and auditioned for The Voice with one of her own songs without even asking her mom about it.

the rest happened fast. all four judges turned. her clip exploded online—TikTok, Twitter, YouTube, everywhere. people were calling her “the girl with the pain in her voice”. and yeah, she won. of course she did. got signed to a label before she even had time to process it.

her debut album was a glittery, razor-sharp pop masterpiece. dramatic, vulnerable, unapologetically girly. every song sounded like crying in the back of a club bathroom and screaming in your car on the way home. girls memorized the lyrics. gays dissected the bridges. critics tried to play it cool but couldn’t help calling it a cultural reset.

but through all the fame, reader stayed pretty much the same. she never really leaned into the chaos of it all. she wasn’t into parties. barely drank. never touched drugs. she didn’t care about being seen—she cared about being good. her team would throw her into red carpets and she’d sneak out early to finish demos in her penthouse. at one event, she literally left mid-party to go sit in the parking lot and hum a harmonie she couldn't get out of her head into her voice notes.

she barely dated. not because she didn’t want to—but because she didn’t have time. she never let herself have time. the industry was demanding, to say the least. she had something to prove. to everyone who doubted her. to herself.

she built herself from the ground up. no shortcuts, no handouts, no famous parents or flashy connections. just talent. obsession. the belief that maybe—maybe—her voice mattered. and a little bit of spite.

she gave everything to her career. and she became a star.

and then came ellie. and for the first time… she stopped thinking about the next song. because suddenly, someone made her want to stay in the moment. and god, that scared her.

[abbu0414]

Boarding Lessons (snowboarding!Ghost x fem!reader)

Word Count: 552

♪ Song to Listen To: A Dream With a Baseball Player by Faye Webster

I know this is really short but it's based off of a Tik Tok I saw this morning and it was literally the CUTEST thing I've ever seen.

This was literally the worst and most embarrassing experience of your life. Seeing so many people go down the hill with ease, and then you only being able to fall on your ass. You had been brought by your best friend and her boyfriend and they were the cutest skiing couple you had ever seen. It was disgusting, but you had been a hopeless romantic your whole life so it was easy to get over. 

You had been snowboarding maybe once or twice in your life when you were younger, but it is so much harder to relearn now that you are 21. Unfortunately, you had forgotten what the levels of slopes were so here you were…stuck on the top of the black diamond. 

“I-I don’t know that I can do this.” You said to your friend. But it was too late, her and her boyfriend were already down the hill.

“FAKE ASS BITCHES” You yell down the hill in frustration. You had decided to get over yourself and just go down. That’s easier said than done because you’re not even half way down the hill and you’ve fallen about seven times.

You would’ve been down the slope sooner but this group of assholes sped down the hill racing each other, and just about running you over on their boards. You fell yet again and burst into tears under your goggles. You laid in the starfish position and just sobbed for a few minutes. You hear another snowboarder make their way down.

“Slow down ya bunch of muppets!” A thick British accent pokes through the skeleton balaclava and a pair of goggles look down at you. 

“Would you like some help…?”

“Y/N, and yes I would. Your buddies are kind of assholes.” He lifts his goggles on top of his helmet and raises an eyebrow.

“Well I apologize for them, but what are you doing on the black diamond then love?” You turn bright red.

“My friend dragged me up here and went down with her boyfriend” You frowned. You see his cheek bones lift a little bit under his mask and loose strands of blonde hair poke out of his helmet as he stretches out his hand. He easily lifts you off the ground and holds on to your hands.

“I’ll help you down the slope, yeah?”

“Y-yeah okay,” You kept hold of his big, gloved hands and looked him in the eyes. “Don’t let me go, I cannot fall again in front of all of these people.” 

“I’ve got you love, bend your knees a little.” After a while it was smooth sailing and you both got to the bottom of the slope. You see a group of men approach him.

“We’ve been waiting FOREVER for you Ghostie, what took you so lo-” A man with a mohawk gets shoved by his friend. 

“Johnny, shut up, he’s flirting.” His friend says, rolling his eyes.

You looked up at him while his friends walked away shoving each other while unlocking your boarding boots. 

“Ghostie? Is that what I should call you too?” You laugh to yourself.

“You can call me Simon, and you can also call me anytime” He winks. You look down in your glove and see his number on a piece of paper crumpled up as he walks away.

‘Call me soon for boarding lessons Lovie ;) -S’

[livewithyura]

Hi!!! I’m new to Tekken fandom and this is my first time requesting! So can I request victor chevalier x reader (she/her and works for victor) General dating Headcannon (SFW)

Thanks! :3

Victor Chevalier x reader [ SFW HEADCANON ]

Answer : Hello, welcome to the community btw! I hope you enjoy your stay! ( even though season 2 is a pain in the ass LMFAO. ) Actually, I’ve received a loooot of requests about this man, so I’m picking your message because it had so many great details! You did a really good job requesting, so thank you! I hope you enjoy my little scribble, anon. 🙏🏻🤍

Slight warning : Age-gap

🪄 Reblogs and likes are appreciated

You were part of the organization under Victor’s command — one of the younger, fiercely determined warriors he’d quietly been watching rise through the ranks.

At first? He didn’t pay special attention to you , you were just another fighter with something to prove. But the way you handled pressure, the way you challenged orders when they didn’t sit right… that caught his eye.

First real interaction? You called him out. Maybe in a strategy meeting — voice steady, gaze sharp. “With all due respect, sir… that’s not going to work.” Victor’s brow arched, that little smile tugging at his lips. “Hm… is that so, ma chère?”

After that, he made a habit of seeking you out. Training sessions. Tactical reviews. Quiet one-on-one check-ins under the guise of “mentorship.”

You tried to keep it professional. He didn’t. [ Don't be fooled by his stoic demeanour , remember when he said "I've got a lady I can't bear to keep waiting" . Yup this man mastered The Art Of Flirt lmfao ]

He's Always just a little too close, always slipping in a murmured, “Impressive work, mon cœur… but do pace yourself. I’d hate to see you burn out.”

The tension built fast . Long glances across mission briefings, sparring matches that lasted a little too long, moments after dangerous missions where his hand lingered on your shoulder just a second longer.

The turning point? A mission gone sideways. You were hurt, pushing yourself past limits. Victor was the first at your side, helping you to your feet, voice low and tight “You reckless thing… you’ll be the death of me.” And that’s when you realized this wasn’t just a mentor and his soldier.

SFW Headcanon

Victor’s first thought when you start dating? “Mon Dieu… what am I getting myself into?” You’re fire, attitude, memes, and late-night chaos and he’s soft-spoken menace, tailored suits, and old-school finesse.

You show him TikToks at 1 a.m. in bed. He pretends he doesn’t get it , but you catch him smirking way too often. One time you hear him mumble, deadpan, “It’s giving… what’s the word… slay?” You almost fell off the bed laughing.

Oh, you think you’re in charge? Victor’s smirk says otherwise , the second you walk into the room he keep teasing you all the time . Especially when you’re flustered. Victor , Leaning in a little too close with a low voice “Mm… I bet it doesn’t feel like this with that 'boy of yours' does it?” (He’s half-joking — but not really.)

He’s protective without being suffocating. If anyone so much as looks at you wrong, his hand’s already at the small of your back, guiding you away, gaze sharp and polite “Is there something I can help you with, mon ami?”

The age-gap dynamic hits hardest in quiet moments , when he’s brushing your hair back, murmuring, “No matter how hard you fight me, mon cœur… you’ll always be mine.” And yeah, his accent absolutely destroys you.

Victor is old-school romantic , Sends flowers “just because.” Opens your door, pulls out your chair, takes your coat. But also lets you call the shots when it counts , he likes someone who challenges him.

When you’re out together, he’s tactile! A hand at your waist, fingers brushing yours, lips near your ear when he speaks. Always making sure you know you’re his.

In public , He composed, sophisticated in front of you . But in private he's surprisingly soft. Kisses the inside of your wrist when you’re sad, tucks your hair behind your ear, whispers French endearments when you least expect it.

That voice during fights or reconciliations? You will not win. “Mon amour… come here. Let me remind you why you are mine.”

The arguments are legendary. You throw shade; Victor throws silk. “You can’t just buy my problems away” Victor with a wine in his hand “No, but I can buy the building they live in.” “Victor—”“Hush, mon cœur.” [ And he give you a kiss on the forehead lmfao ]

He spoils you endlessly. New phone? Check. Designer clothes? Check. “Victor, I don’t need all this.” “Ah, but I need to see you happy.” (and yeah, he’s smooth enough to get away with it)

Technology gap? Hilarious. You teach him how to use Discord and he teaches you how to sip bourbon without dying. “Why do you text with perfect punctuation?!” “Why do you… type in lowercase and send frog emojis?”

Physical affection is constant. Victor touches your back when you pass him. Kisses your temple when you’re focused. Runs his fingers through your hair while you rant about your day.

Jealousy? Subtle but deadly. Someone flirts with you? Victor appears beside you, wraps an arm around you, murmurs in French just loud enough for them to hear. They back off fast.

His biggest soft spot? When you fall asleep on him, mid-ramble, hoodie half-off, phone slipping from your hand — Victor just watches you with the fondest damn look on his face. “What am I going to do with you, mon amour…”

🪄 writtenbylivewithyura , reblogs and likes are appreciated!

[greensagephase]

what made you wanna name the story non-violent communication?

Hiii, nonnie!! Thank you so much for the ask (and also, I'm sorry for the delayed reply! I took off tumblr yesterday)!! 🥰 Thank you for asking this question because I don't think I've ever talked about it before!!

Long story short:

THIS SONG RIGHT HERE!!!!!!!!! 🗣🗣🗣🗣 If you haven't listened to it, pls do!!😭It's one of Miguel's songs and has part of his dialogue at the end of the song before it transitions to "Givin' up (Not The One)" in the album!!! The transition is (in my humble opinion) ✨😭✨😭✨ !!!

If it has a million fans, I'm one of them. If it has one fan, I'm THAT FAN. If it has zero fans, it means I'm no longer on this Earth!!! 😤

This is my fav song from the album!! I'll explain why below the cut! I'm going to give a short (lol, I yapped too much, I gave a whole story time) explanation because I love this song sm 😭 so if you care to read a bit of an analysis on the songs, then proceed, if not, pls disregard the rest lol and thank you for sending this ask!!!

So I first heard the song a day or two before I posted the first chapter to NC, which was late July 2023. I watched the movie in June but I only listened to the songs that I really, really liked (I love all the songs but some a little more than others) that were included in the movie without listening to the full album, so I hadn't listened to this song because Miguel's songs (this one and "Givin' Up (Not The One)") are not included in the film. I only found out about "Givin' Up (Not The One)" because it was all over tiktok lol

So yeah, I listened to the song for the first time a day or two before the first chapter was posted and fun fact, the first chapter I posted for NC was actually nameless lmao!!😭😭 I didn’t know what to title it (I’ve always been bad with titles), so it was just a writing post with no title. I didn't think much of it either because my og plans were for the story to be like 3-4 chapters total (past me would've been shocked I'm still going with the story and that we're 249k ish words in just from the main parts of the story, not counting the one-shots lol).

As I mentioned, I hadn’t heard the entire album yet but after part 1 was posted, I sat down and FINALLY listened to the entire album to appreciate it (I've since then listened to the entire album like a hundred times (Metro Boomin was my #1 artist of 2023💀)) and once I listened to it in order, I immediately knew I wanted to title my fic Nonviolent Communication. 🥹❤️

When I heard both of Miguel’s songs right after the other it made something in my brain click.

I felt like it was so, so fitting for what I was trying to achieve with my story, even when I was planning to make the story like 4 chapters long lol.

So my explanation for connecting the song to my fic:

I'm probably going to sound crazy, or like someone who gave the song too much thought but hear me out.

In a way, I felt (and ofc everyone is going to find a different vibe, feeling, or meaning to a song but this was mine) like it was kind of ironic how "Nonviolent Communication" didn't receive much attention like his other song, "Givin' Up (Not The One)" did, which is more... out there (???). It's more like !!!! You know? Like the lyrics themselves and the production are more bold and strong, more “rough” for lack of a better word. Despite it not being in the film like "NC", everyone knows it! Everyone also knows Miguel's dialogue because of it, "But I'm not like the others..." and so on along with his little quote about "being Spider-Man is a sacrifice" at the end of the song.

Then, you have "Nonviolent Communication." It's the second song with the least plays on the album on Spotify (after "Nas" which is another one of my top fav songs from the album), and the lyrics and production are an entire different vibe from the other song!! It's so much more softer and vulnerable, even slower.

You let me fall first, then you dream awake I'd do anything to bring you to that other place We speak so differently alone, love like Vincent we are low Watch for constellations, soft as cloud formations That will never leave, much as duty calls If I'm in over my head, I'll swim Niagara Falls

It still has themes of being Spider-Man but it's not so !!!! like the other song is. It's truly so much more vulnerable and soft, and even has romantic themes included. And at the end of the song we have another part of Miguel's dialogue, that's often disregarded, included, "I'm this dimension's one and only, Spider-Man... At least I was," which I'm always !!!! about because one, his tone for that part is much softer (almost sad), and two, I feel like him no longer being the only Spider-Man in his own dimension goes along with him not feeling like a true Spider-Man, and no longer having this one thing to himself that he can have in common with other spider members.

I could go on about this but this is already so long 😭 but anyway, I think that part is usually disregarded, much like Miguel’s soft side that we don’t get to see a lot of in the film. We’re given very little of soft Miguel and the majority is him being angry, stressed out, scared, and frustrated (rightfully so) with what’s happening.

So, hearing both songs, I felt like they represent two sides of Miguel. One that is more direct, bold, and rough, maybe even “violent.” It’s the side that’s most known to probably all the spider people and fans alike. Some people only see Miguel as an angry man that’s determined to protect the multiverse and sacrifice anything, since he’s already given up so much.

But then there’s the side of him less known (less seen), one that we didn’t see much of but that many of us picked up on. He has a soft side despite being through a lot, and has a lot of love and care to give. He’s a man that’s capable of having nonviolent communication, someone who can fall first, speak differently with someone when he’s alone with them, and be willing to do anything to “bring” that person “to the other place” - while still being Spider-Man and sticking to his duty that comes with such title but not sacrificing those very things.

So yeah, I heard the songs and it just clicked. “Nonviolent Communication” to me is the soft side of Miguel that we don’t get to see much in ATSV, but it’s still there. And so, I decided that it was the perfect title for my fic because of my interpretation of the song and my goal with the fic: show Miguel’s soft and vulnerable side that I so desperately hope we get to see more of in BTSV (I am begging the writers to do Miguel justice!!!!!!!).

I hope this made sense, maybe as I mentioned earlier, I’ve given too much thought to this (I’m an overthinker) but that’s my version and I love the song SO MUCHH!!! It was my most heard song in 2023, so I guess that says a lot :)

If you read this far, thank you so much!! I definitely talked too much but I seriously love Miggy and this song so much and I always get so emotional listening to it lmao 😭 but yeah, thank you for the ask, nonnie!!! I hope you're having a great day/night!!!🥺🥰

-Alondra❤️

[kitcat992]

Just wanted to stop by and let you know that I was thinking of you and sincerely hope life is being kind ❤️

I’ve read a few Irondad fics lately that have been so well articulated and beautifully written, and they’ve reminded me of your stories. But your work will always be the GOAT to me. Everything else I read is always compared to your version of the MCU, because that’s canon in my opinion.

I secretly love that your stories keep going, that Identity Within is still a WOP, because parting with a finished story when you reach the end… a story that you’ve grown to love and formed a bond with… it’s really hard to say goodbye. It feels a little like grief if I’m being honest.

I’ve lived in the joy of knowing that there’s no permanent end (yet) to the Identity Series for years now, and I’m actually really grateful that I haven’t had to read an ending or experience that final farewell.

I just wanted you to know that your work is so appreciated, and while I’m sure it weighs on you sometimes that the updates take a while and the series has been ongoing for a few years, it actually brings me so much comfort ❤️ You deserve to know that you make that difference for someone.

Life is being....SOMETHING to me 😅😫😩So when I say that this message rejuvenated the very essence of my soul, I truly mean it ❤️❤️❤️

I've had some very rough nights recently, thanks to the wonders of ₊˚ʚ ᗢ₊˚✧ ﾟ stress ₊˚ʚ ᗢ₊˚✧ ﾟI've got front row tickets to the "when it rains, it pours" show, and to add onto that, I started a whole new career where I'm *running a freaking business.* Yeah, sleep doesn't really happen as often as it should for me.

And because I'm still trying to sleep, I don't keep my mind operating at such a capacity that I could do anything worthwhile other than watch Tiktoks re-read through my series for shits and giggles, because I wrote it having wanted to read these things, and now I can go back and have fun reading the story that was once all jammed packed into my head. And in doing this, I tend to remember comments that made my entire day, month, year, and so I go into my inbox and just....I just read all the comments, over and over again, with such a profound, appreciative, ecstatic, blessed feeling in my heart.

The love that everyone has had for this series is what makes me still so deep in love with it today. And hearing that from people like you, who are so kind to take a minute of your time and express these things as if it were your first time ever reading the story...god, a girl couldn't be anymore lucky. Truly, #hashtag blessed.

My free time is far and few inbewteen these days (why did I decide to go run a freaking business 😳) but I promise you, no job will ever take this series away from me. I'm far too excited for everything that's yet to come, still to be written, and needs to be told, that I'll never leave this piece unfinished. Knowing that the pace it's taken isn't something that bother people does ease my nerves and calm me a bit, and I thank you so very much for expressing that and all the love alongside with it.

Chapter 9, Bachelor Party, is one BEAST of a chapter that's nearing closer and closer to finished every day. I hope for an update within the month or two. It contains a whooping 17 characters in a single scene, with character interactions we damn right deserved in the MCU. 2/3rds of the way done and and I think my inability to control the word count says enough about what to expect.

These characters have gone through far too much to rush through chapters now. In fact, the more things go on, the richer things get -- and to know amazing people like you are along for the ride...that's just so dam nifty. ❤️❤️❤️

[yysgono]

Need Background Music for Your Vlog or Contest Video? Here's What I Use

Hey! 😊 So I’ve been working on vlogs and some video contest stuff lately, and I wanted to share something that’s been super helpful — especially when it comes to finding background music that’s safe to use.

I used to search free music sites all the time, but most tracks sound the same, or sometimes the quality’s just meh... And once, I even got a copyright claim on YouTube from a “free” song 😓

Now I use a site called Epidemic Sound — and honestly, I wish I found it sooner.

🎧 Why I Like It So Much

There’s a huge library — like, over 35,000 songs and a ton of sound effects

You can search by mood, genre, or theme (super helpful!)

You can use everything for commercial purposes — YouTube, TikTok, Instagram, even contest entries

The music quality is really high, and lots of it sounds super trendy and cinematic

The site’s clean and easy to use, even if you’re new

And best of all: there’s a 30-day free trial

But here’s the best part, and I didn’t know this at first:

✅ Any music you use during the free trial stays licensed — even after the trial ends! So yeah. No copyright problems later. It’s totally safe.

🎵 I Made a Playlist Too!

I made a YouTube playlist with some of my favorite Epidemic Sound tracks. It’s full of cozy, vibey music — really nice for vlogs or chill edits.

👉 🎧 Watch the playlist here

Feel free to use it for inspiration or editing!

🎁 Try It for Free (With Discount Too)

If you want to check it out, here’s the link I used: It gives you a 30-day free trial, and the discount code is auto-applied too.

👉 Start your free trial

And again — any music you use during that trial is totally safe to keep using. Even if you don’t subscribe later.

Who This Is Perfect For:

Vloggers looking for chill or emotional background music

People making contest or client videos

Creators who don’t want to stress about copyright or strikes

Anyone tired of free music sites with boring tracks

New editors who just want good music that’s easy to find

🎬 Just My Honest Take

I’m not, like, a pro or anything — I just make videos for fun and some projects. But finding the right music used to take forever, and now it’s way easier.

If you’re editing a lot, or just want your video to feel more complete, give Epidemic Sound a try. I think you’ll like it!

👉 Try it out here

Let me know if you end up using it — I’d love to hear what songs you pick 😄

[apurikottotii]

march song recs

JESUS THIS MONTH WAS INSANE. A few things that happened: my competition group went to our state comp! We did pretty well for a team of complete newbies, and I won 1st in music :D! the party afterwards was really fun and I enjoyed getting to know my teammates (they’re all so quirky). I was sad abt my shitty sat score lmao. I had many art performances (on the same day as well???). I got into saihate station (I love tatsunami so much. He’s so relatable). I might have a crush, but i think it's more of an obsession. I’ve been obsessing over people too much lately, and it really affects my mood. My coach is treating me pretty badly, and though I’ve always thought “i want these days to last forever”, I’m starting to think it might be ok to let some things end. for that sport, it’s terrible seeing how things have turned out this way- especially when freshman me could love nothing else but it.  

---Esper Esper - Nayutalien

I LOVE nayutalien. Yes alien alien was my most listened to song 2 years ago. I don’t really have any justifications for liking it it’s just catchy lmao. i like the second half of the chorus where it goes like "esper, esper something something esper" lmao

---Mellomelloid - Kairiki Bear  

AHHHHH I suppose kairiki bear does deserve some of the hype he gets. He is really good. I love the little “my love!” And “I love!”. Using all the Pokemon moves in the lyrics is so cool and creates really cool particular diction. And well, I love songs about obsessive love lmao. The “suki de suki de” is so catchy too… The whole song feels fast- almost rushed. Falling too quickly into love… spiraling into obsession.

---Monitoring, Zombie, Telepathy - Deco*27 

When I first listened to monitoring, I thought it was honestly better than most of the recent deco releases- I could tell from the beginning it was “different” (no, this is not hindsight bias). And yeah, it blew up! I’m going to say it deserves it- it’s a pretty cool concept executed well, especially with the art style and all. Personally, it’s helping me cope. Seeing shion and ashe versions of it didn’t help lmao. I really like the “dissected heart” and the “XXX”-ing idea. I think the story might be that miku is normal, and the “speaker” is the one who’s out of their mind- which is pretty cool. Seeing it distort between normal/obsessed miku is awesome. 

Zombie is AWESOME. I really want mahiru to get a cover of it- it fits WAY too well lyrically. The bassline speaks to me, it’s so funky. The little “wa-ha!” Is so silly too. Though I really hate the giga remix, sorry.

Telepathy is honestly not that good of a song, but it’s one of the stronger recent deco releases. I think it blew up because it’s funny (I don’t particularly care for the humor), I just really like the chorus- it’s too catchy!? Especially when it drops down a half step or something. 

---Loro- TRI.BE 

Sorry, I did hear this on TikTok. I love latin-influenced music too much. The little “dolce vita!” is so cute. The fricking horns and “heys” on the off beat man.  

---Suki tte itte - titana 

Three words. Tatsunami shion relatable. 

“Ah… what a worthless fantasy”. SPEAK YO SHIT KING!!!! 

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

Honorable mentions: help me erin (English version) (it’s almost been a year since I’ve become obsessed with this song, and THEY RELEASE AN ENGLISH COVER OUT OF NOWHERE??? It’s really hard to translate, but they did an impressive job- saved me the job of doing it. Though I’ve already memorized the chorus in Japanese), weak by ajr???, d/n/a (i love the intro computer synthesized bit too much), die with a smile (why is this song actually good??? and the lyrics actually deep and profound???), because you’re here/brand new day (I introduced my friend to because you’re here because she showed me brand new day, I find them to sound similar), Danza kuduro/pepas (I love latin music?), the way things go (I find her style so solemn, yet still catchy?)

[unflirtysimmer]

Steam rose lazily from the bubbling water as Mercury and Blaze slid into the hot tub, the warmth soaking into their muscles. For a moment, they sat quietly, letting the stillness of the water settle around them. Then Blaze leaned back with a dramatic sigh, running a hand through his damp hair.

“Ah, this is the life,” he said with a grin. “Hot tub, good company, no emails from my boss blowing up my phone... What more could a guy ask for?”

Mercury chuckled softly, relaxing into the water. “You’re one of those ‘live for the weekend’ types, huh?”

“Absolutely,” Blaze replied, pointing a finger at her. “Work hard, play harder. That’s the motto. Speaking of which, do you even meme, or are you one of those ‘I only read the news’ types?”

Mercury raised an eyebrow. “Do I even meme? Are we seriously starting the conversation like that?”

“I need to know,” Blaze said with mock seriousness. “It’s a crucial personality trait. Top five things to know about someone, easy.”

Rolling her eyes, Mercury smirked. “Okay, fine. I’ve seen a few memes, but I’m not living and breathing them or anything.”

Blaze gasped, clutching his chest dramatically. “Not living and breathing memes? How are you even surviving out here?”

“Pure stubbornness,” she replied dryly, and they both laughed.

“So, if memes aren’t your thing, what is?” Blaze asked, leaning forward slightly. “What keeps you going when you’re not crushing it on the treadmill?”

Mercury hesitated for a moment before answering. “Honestly? I’ve been... figuring that out lately. Life’s been kind of weird recently. I used to be all about athletics, but now? I don’t know. I’m still trying to figure out what’s next.”

Blaze nodded, his grin softening into something more genuine. “Yeah, I get that. Life has a way of throwing curveballs. But hey, figuring it out is part of the adventure, right? And if you ever need advice, I’m your guy. I’m pretty much a guru on balancing chaos.”

Mercury smirked. “Chaos? Like what, managing spreadsheets and TikTok trends?”

“Exactly!” Blaze said, snapping his fingers. “See? You do get me.”

She laughed lightly, feeling herself relax. “Okay, your turn. What’s your deal? What’s the cringiest thing about you?”

“Oh, where do I start?” Blaze said, rubbing his chin dramatically. “I work in business—office job by day, party animal by night. I know every TikTok dance, every viral meme, and I throw the most legendary ‘mandatory fun’ office parties.”

“That sounds horrifying,” Mercury teased.

“It is,” Blaze admitted with a laugh. “But it’s my horrifying. Gotta keep life interesting, you know?”

Mercury smiled, swirling her hand in the water. “You know, I’ve been feeling more like myself lately,” she admitted softly. “And I think meeting you kind of helped with that. So... thanks.”

Blaze raised an eyebrow, grinning faintly. “I helped? Not sure how, but I’ll take the credit. Seriously, though, I’m glad to hear that. You seem cool, so it’s nice knowing you’re doing better.”

Mercury chuckled. “I don’t know if I’d call myself cool, but... thanks.”

As the conversation continued, they found an easy rhythm, sharing bits and pieces of their lives without diving too deep. The warm water and relaxed atmosphere made it easy to talk, and for the first time in a while, Mercury felt herself genuinely enjoying someone’s company. Blaze’s over-the-top personality was unexpected, but it was exactly the breath of fresh air she needed.

[deadpcnned]

HIIIII i’ve missed u, i hope ur doing good <33 since everyone’s sharing their music thoughts for sealed, i wanted to do the same lol!! i’ve been obsessed with sailor song by gigi perez since it got so popular on tiktok but there’s a few lyrics that remind me soooo much of those two!! “and lately i’ve tried other things but nothing can capture the sting of the venom she’s going to spit out right now” that’s so jj to tr, like ever since the story started she’s been weird w/ him due to everything that he’s done but still even when she’s like that, he can’t help but be drawn to her!! and it would definitely be a hit to kiara too (sorry 👀)

and the part where it says “kiss me on the mouth and love me like a sailor, and when you get a taste can you tell me what’s my flavour” to me it’s sooo them i can’t explain it fully or i would write a full thesis lol but those lyrics to me mean sort of like “tell me what’s my flavour = tell me who i am” and i think both of them understand each other in such a deep level, like when tr was helping jj with the whole situation in court, she was saying all the right things while other people weren’t handling it well at all and there’s other details where jj gets tr so well

i know the song’s meaning is completely different but whenever i become obsessed with something, i associate EVERYTHING with that as well and i literally haven’t been able to stop thinking about ur story ever since i first read it!! i’m sure i’ll be back to ur inbox with more songs that reminded me of ur stories lol anyway sorry for the longggg message

HIII LOVEEE!! i’ve missed being on here and interacting w/ all of y’all, but i should be more active in the upcoming days 😋

i love sailor song no matter how many times i listen to it ugh. THE LYRIC ABT THE VENOM??? you literally nailed that connection wow, I’m obsessed w/ the concept of the sting being part of the pleasure of being with her. also unforch that’s very much how jj feels abt kie. like yeah he loves her cause she’s his friend but as he falls more deeply for the reader he’ll never rlly have a hard time choosing who he wants 🤷🏽‍♀️

love ur analysis of “what’s my flavor” too bc i was truly taking that song so surface level hahaha, you’ve opened my mind.

i’m the exact same way abt associating all my obsessions, so i totally get it. PLSSSS keep the songs coming, it’s so fascinating to me to hear everyone’s opinions + it’s such a fun way for me to interact w more ppl on here <33333

[superstar49]

Hi!! Saw you were doing f1 hot takes so though why not sharing one I have.

Haters make this fandom less and less enjoyable. Idk why so many people act like hating is normal and an expected part of the sport, specially with the recent events its showing so many disrespectful and imo even disgusting behaviours of the fans.

I'm not condemning criticism, or even disliking a driver, everyone has a right to not like a driver but I think we should all trace a line when the hate is to much which imo is what is happening but most of the people act like it's okay.

This are REAL people, and HUMANS, yes maybe they're also rich boys who drive fast cars but still, they're NOT fictional people whom you can wish death and harass.

Also hating and harassing other fans for having an opinion or liking a certain driver is also fucking disgusting. Period. Idc you think the driver did something irremediable, it's still fucking horrendous to bash on other people for having a different opinion to yours. And if you want to be treated with respect, you need to also respect others, so then dont be surprised those people wont respect you, like I've seen lately.

Sorry for any mistakes my English is not the best! Im not taking here any side of the conflict that is happening on the fandom, so it about both sides. Btw nothing is directed to you, just to some people on this fandom that REALLY need to hear this :)

honestly yeah i do agree with this one, which might come as a surprise to some people who know me. i’m definitely a big hater about some drivers and i’ve got some intense opinions, but the difference is i keep them to tumblr or my personal messages with friends. it’s one thing to post about not liking a driver on a blog website that i doubt half the drivers even know about, or to talk shit with your friends in messages nobody else will see, but it’s crossing the line to go and post on twitter or instagram or tiktok, all of which are extremely public platforms that almost every single driver uses, and post death threats and the like. the truth is that driver hate has always been part of the sport, but it’s been on the side of too much for years now. and the hate against other fans, like you mentioned, is ridiculous. there are a couple of drivers on the grid that i really can’t stand, but i follow and am friends with plenty of folks who are fans of those drivers, and i’m not in their ask boxes or dms or text messages shitting on them for liking drivers that i’m not a fan of. it works the opposite way, too. if someone is hating on your favourite driver, just ignore them or block them if you don’t want to hear it. there’s no reason to harass people.

the big takeaway is, people just need to mind their manners and their business and understand what the limit is.

send me your f1 hot takes

[pr41sethemoon]

Babbler | Josh Kiszka x Reader ☾

//: lol I’ve been watching waaaay too much Amber and Wilde on TikTok. The idea literally came from their videos. ALSO sorry for the delay!

Pairing: Dad!Josh x F!Reader

Word Count: 1.6k

Warnings: I feel like this is the proper dosage of fluff ♡

|Sorry in advance if any errors|

It was an early and lazy Friday morning for you and your little family. You laid bundled in bed along with Josh and your 8-month-old daughter who sat in front of you babbling away. She woke up in a cheery mood as usual and you were always thankful you had such a happy baby. Her curly hair fluttering, eyes still looking slightly sleepy. You couldn’t help but chuckle at her efforts to converse back with you as tired as she seemed. She’d been babbling so much these past couple weeks, and you couldn’t wait to get her to try to say mama.

“Mama, say mama” you say it slowly.

Your daughter goes to lean against Josh’s side – cuddling him – and staring at you with her big brown eyes. A small smile on her face as she watched your lips. You stare back at her, just so eager for her to try.

“She wants to talk so bad, Josh.” Your finger stroking her chubby cheek, “Come on sweet pea, say mama” in your baby voice you just can’t help.

You could hear a quiet chuckle come from beside you. Your baby voice always seemed to make Josh chuckle. Eye’s narrowing, you send him a glare as he continued to laugh. “What’s so funny?”

“That obnoxious voice you do.” He says tiredly as he strokes your daughter’s hair.

Your jaw drops as your brows furrow, “It is not obnoxious, she loves when I do that voice!” Looking over to the baby that was slightly tugging on Josh’s shirt. “Isn’t that right?” you nuzzle your nose into her cheek as she giggles.

Josh had propped himself on his elbow to look down at his baby “Mommy being silly, right baby?” She looks up at Josh with an even wider smile as she began to babble to him. He nods as if he could understand her, before planting a kiss to her cheek “I know honey, so say dada.” He encouraged.

You look at Josh like he’d lost his mind for a moment. You couldn’t help but laugh with furrowed brows, “Uh uh. Absolutely not,” You move into your daughters’ line of sight, making Josh laugh more “Say mama, mama sweetheart.”

She looks at you with those big brown as she continued to babble to you. You tilt your head as you watched her ramble on.

“I personally think dada is easier for babies to say.” Josh says softly as he held the toy bunny in front of the baby, making it do a silly dance which made your daughter laugh so much.

Your brows furrow again, “Josh, don’t start.” Giving him a soft nudge only to earn a soft laugh from him. “Mama is the easier way.” You say softly as you sit up straighter.

Josh blows a raspberry as his thick brow arches, “It’s not,” he says as he side eyes you. “Plus, she’s a daddy’s girl, huh pumpkin?” he begins to make kissy faces at her.  She laughs as she grabs his lips.

All you could do is roll your eyes, laughing a little bit at how silly he looked “That is not a valid reason, but whatever you say, Joshua.” You reach over, scooping your baby into your arms. “Tell your daddy he’s being delusional.” You whisper to her as you side eye him.

Josh’s brows furrow slightly, “Yeah right, you just wait Y/N.” He says before planting a kiss to your lips, then one to the baby’s cheek. He throws the blankets off his body to get out of bed “Now, let me get ready for this meeting before Jake blows blood vessel, I’m already kinda late.” He snickers as he scurries into the into the bathroom.

Your eyes slightly widen as your brows raise “Uh yeah, hurry up, I don’t need him blowing up my phone like the last time.”

You would never forget all the phone calls from Jake practically cursing Josh because he was always late. Shaking your head and giggling as you remembered the few times you heard Jake howling on the other line at Josh.

“Right sweet pea, tell dada to hurry so uncle Jake doesn’t blow up the phone.” You bounce the happy baby in your arms.

Eventually, Josh had gotten himself ready to leave. He’d given both you and your baby one last kiss before leaving out the door to go to work. “Okay, I love you.” His lips part from your and then he looks to the sweet baby in your arms. “Be good for mama, my sweet girl, okay?” He says softly before blowing a raspberry to her rosy cheek.

You laugh as an eruption of laughter came from her. You take her little hand, making it give him a wave goodbye “Say see yah later daddy.” He gave a final wave goodbye with a playful pout of his lip before getting into his car and leaving. You turn to look down to the baby in your arms. She had an uncertain look on her face which you’d seen a couple times whenever she saw Josh leave. You lean in to give her a comforting kiss to her cheek, “Don’t worry sweet, he'll be back soon.” You say softly before turning back into house.

The next few days seemed to zoom past you due to your busy schedule at work for the new week. Josh would send photos of him and the baby often to ease you through your day. He would take her everywhere, even to rehearsals to spend some time with her uncles.

Today, he facetimed you from home, just showing your baby and talking about the things they’ve done today, like their trip to grocery store. She was babbling away as she usually does, her face slightly pink from the raspberries and yogurt she was eating. You chuckled at the sight immediately feeling your heart warm, some of the stress easing away from you. Josh and you converse for a bit but not for long. Your lunch was sadly coming to an end, and you had to say your goodbyes. “Okay, I’ll see you when I get home.” You say softly sending one last kiss to the phone and hanging up.

You stayed overtime tonight, coming home more tired than you’d ever been. Shrugging off your jacket but to your surprise upon coming home so late, not only did Josh greet you at the door as he usually did, but your baby was still awake. She clung to him tiredly, Josh chuckles at how wide your eyes were as stared at him.

“I know I know; she was being extra stubborn tonight.” He brings a kiss to your cheek “She wasn’t going to sleep without her mama tonight.” He says softly as his fingers stroke the curls on top of her head.

Immediately, you felt your heart melt “Oh sweet.” You say softly as you stroke her chubby cheeks “Okay, let’s get ready for bed.”

First, you rid yourself of your clothes and take a shower quickly to wash away the stress of work. After, you’d done your nightly routine and dressed into an oversized grey shirt, and some cozy black shorts. Usually, you tried to break your baby from sleeping with you and Josh, but tonight you just wanted to be cuddled up with her.

Your lips tug into a small smile at the sight of her sitting beside Josh with an even bigger - but tired - smile to greet you. “Hey baby.” You say quietly as you get into bed.

Josh smiles tiredly, but suddenly perked up “Oh wait! Sweetheart, tell mommy what you told uncle Sam the other day.”

Your baby was already crawling over to you quickly, trying to get into your arms as she was humming something to you. Your brow arches in confusion, but still smiling “What did you say to uncle Sam?” you ask her as you hold her hands to help her stand in your lap.

Still mumbling, her face was very much determined to tell you something. Then she started saying it, and immediately you felt your heart sink into your stomach. It was so faint, but you knew what she was trying to say.

“Ma-ma” she says softly to you.

She was calling you mama.

You could feel your eyes burning as you pout to Josh who was already laughing at your reaction. She continued to babble the new word to you as you held her close to your chest, planting soft kisses to her head. “My sweet girl, you’re going to make mama cry.” You say as you slightly bounce her.

You quickly side eye Josh, sticking your tongue out teasingly to him “I told you so.”

He simply just snorts before plopping back onto his pillow “Save it, Y/N.” he grumbles slightly “It’s still a work in progress.”

Sure, it wasn’t ‘dada’ like he’d hoped at first, but even so, he was still equally proud of her. Eventually your daughter had fallen asleep cuddled up between you and Josh. You quietly found yourself laughing suddenly, which makes Josh look over to you.

“What?” he whispers.

Your brows furrow slightly, “She called Sam mama?”

He quietly snorts next to you “Oh I wish you’d seen his face; he was so confused.” You could only imagine which made you giggle more.

“He was going to tell you himself, but I didn’t want him to spoil it.” He gives you a knowing look “Sam spoils everything.”

You give him an understanding nod, and brush over the curls that rest on his forehead. Leaning in to plant a kiss to his lips, “Well, I appreciate it.” You purred to him.

You were definitely going to text Sam in the morning to slightly tease him.

(Hey, you made it! Thank you for reading! Have a beautiful rest of your day/evening/night! ���)

[avenirdelight]

Silly Little Things

Jordan Henderson

Jordan hears her cry out and gets alarmed. But she’s actually crying over something silly.

Jordan was getting ready for bed. He’d just done washing his face and was dabbing his face with a small towel. He was about to open the drawer—the next step was to put on some toner and moisturiser—but suddenly he got real alarmed, because he heard a loud cry from the bedroom. A wail, and it sounded serious.

Jordan didn’t waste any second to drop whatever he was doing and walked out the bathroom. He searched for her figure on the bed with worried eyes. She was still in the same state as she was when he’d left her earlier. She was lying on the bed, wrapped in a warm blanket, with a phone in her hands.

“Babe, what’s wrong?” Jordan asked worriedly as he walked closer to the bed.

“This kitten…” She sobbed, dropping her phone to her chest. Jordan could finally look at her face and her eyes were full of tears. “This kitten is so tiny and fragile, Jordan, and he’s struggling to climb up the stairs.” She sobbed again.

“What kitten?” He was confused, but a second later he realised that she’d just been watching something on her phone. He let out a relieved sigh, dropping his tensed shoulders. “Oh, God– Are you kidding me? Your cry sounded scary, I thought you were hurt or something.”

“Well, I am hurt. My whole body hurts, I told you.”

“Has your period started?”

“No, but I’m already getting cramps. And you know it always feels like I’ve been hit by a truck when it’s about to start.”

Jordan had walked around the bed and reached her side. “Yeah. And getting emotional over a cat video?”

“But he’s so cute, I swear!” She pouted and lifted her phone up again, quickly playing the video and showing the screen to Jordan. “Look, babe! He’s trying so hard to climb up! Look at those little paws and that little tail…”

He spent a few seconds watching the video. A little orange kitten was struggling to climb up a few stairs, just like she’d explained.

“Isn’t he adorable?? He’s so cute!”

“Yeah, yeah. He’s learning. Good for him,” he commented.

“Can I adopt a kitten tomorrow?” She asked him, looking up at him with hopeful eyes glistening with tears.

He chuckled and shook his head. “You know you can’t.” As someone who was not really fond of cats, he couldn’t let that happen in his house. 

“Right. I’m going to send this video to you.”

Jordan sighed. “Stop sending me cat videos. They’re not gonna make me like cats. Okay– You know what sounds like a better idea?” He said as he bent down and propped his body with a hand, as the other pulled her blanket so it covered her even better. “For you to stop watching TikTok and go to sleep.”

She pouted and huffed angrily. Jordan chuckled again and leaned down to put a kiss on her forehead. “Seriously, though, go to sleep. You’re getting way too emotional because it’s late.”

“Well, hurry up then, I need a cuddle so I can sleep.”

“Okay,” he smiled, ruffling her hair before he walked back to the bathroom. But just before he passed the door, he looked back at her, who was now grinning, probably at another video that she found.

Jordan shook his head, feeling a bit funny as he realised that even after so many years they’d been together, he still found her so adorable. And he always got reminded of how much he loved her, even for the silly little things.

—

i was sick and in my period and i cried over this cat video and this is the result. i hope you like it! have a nice day<3

if you want to be on my tag list, please fill in this form.

[jordan henderson tag list: @smileytaa @delicateearthquakellama @lfcthelovesofmylife @muglermami @mehrmonga @landosmilkjug @blueanfield]

My Masterlist🤍

[delicrieux]

☆ﾐ 𝚖𝚊𝚔𝚎 𝚢𝚘𝚞 𝚜𝚊𝚢 “𝚘𝚑”

PART 10: BIG DICK IS BACK IN TOWN

y/n is back in brooklyn for the holidays. thinking that a stream will make her feel less homesick for cali, she starts working on her famously titled hentai.free.srv. what was supposed to be a relaxing stream turns into a special delivery about two hours in.

─── corpse husband x reader ─── soc. media + written fiction! ─── word count: 2.2k ─── ❥ req: Here's one... You know those apps for delivery like Domino's or whatnot... What if reader is streaming Among Us with Corpse, and reader mentions they're hungry and Corpse offers to order them food, and readers like no no it's fine... Then there's delivery at the door (Corpse ordered beforehand) 

author’s note: fucky format is also back in town baby!!! also if you find any mistakes - no u didnt <3 thank u everyone for enjoying this story sm i literally cant believe how feral yall going strawberry cow was a nuclear explosion im still recovering tbh. got an ask a while ago and decided to incorporate it into myso. happy holidays everyone! myso will continue on monday!

ultimate masterlist.  ҉  myso masterlist   ҉   previous.  ҉   next.

✼　 ҉ 　✼　 ҉ 　✼　 ҉ 　✼　 ҉ 　✼　 ҉ 　✼

✼　 ҉ 　✼　 ҉ 　✼　 ҉ 　✼　 ҉ 　✼　 ҉ 　✼

Indeed, being soft on any social media platform was the biggest disgrace and needed to be eliminated post haste. Moreover, it was a slippery slope - once you start flooding your timeline with cute imagery and heart emojis, what will stop you from posting inspirational Facebook quotes? Disgusting. If Rae were here, she would chide you (not you thinking about her as if she’s dead or something). For once in your life, you feel like you deserve it. 

Alas, you hope this little chaos you’ve caused is enough to throw everyone off. The stans, especially. You know the hashtags, you’ve seen ARMY scourging for info online with the same fervor and ruthlessness 1 Direction fans hacked airport security cameras just to spy on the boys. If you had any dirty secrets online, they are out to the public now - thankfully, besides the Harry Styles stan account (with edits and all), you have nothing. Though, now that you think about it, exposed nudes would have been better than your Punk!Harry edit receiving almost a million views. God, your life’s a fucking mess.

Your fans aren’t the only ones out for info - you, too, are trying to decipher Rae’s message. Code: Barbecue Sauce. The two of you had come up with it roughly two years ago, around the same time when you promised that if you didn’t find significant others by the time you’re 40, you’ll just marry each other. It was one of the many rules found in your friendship codex. Barbecue Sauce signifies information - an exchange of information. And depending on how it ends or begins (”So I’m sitting there” alludes to Rae, “On my titties” alludes to you), secret data on that person is given away, usually free of charge. 

But why? And to whom did Rae give away what? You had pestered her mercilessly and even sent some voice messages where you were crying. You were only crying because of a video of a grandpa smiling you saw on TikTok, but you are a snake, and so you put those tears to good use. If streaming doesn’t work out, you’ll just become an actress. Hollywood would love you. Your PR firm sure as fuck wouldn’t, though.

Rae was having none of it. She said you’ll figure it out eventually. Told you to channel your superior puzzle skills. You were quick to remind her that you can barely count to ten without having an aneurysm. Oddly serious, she admitted that she worries for you sometimes. Why only sometimes?! you demanded. She merely sighed. uttering under her breath something that sounded closely to “Boke.”

You leave her for barely a week and she’s already neck deep in the gay volleyball anime, hoodie and cardboard cutout and everything. Your life is falling apart.

But Brooklyn is nice. It had snowed when you stepped off of the plane. Thousands of snowflakes sprinkling into your hair, dotting your cheeks and nose. You missed this sight back in Cali. You missed your parents, too. 

Home cooked meals, old sweaters, your old room and about 40GB worth of old high school pictures on your computer. You went through them all one night. Some were stomach churning, cringe inducing nightmares. You were especially fond of those. Texted some of your friends that were still in Brooklyn, met up, decided to bake. Bad idea, Rae was the resident chef back in Cali. Besides laughing till your stomach hurt, and almost burning down your kitchen, nothing all that significant happened. Somewhere down the line, at about 3 am, half-way through a cheesy rom-com you had the overwhelming urge to text Corpse.

That’s where the problems really started. God, you missed California, missed being in the same timezone with a guy you hadn’t even met yet, how embarrassing is that?! You missed skating around and taking pictures of the beach in the setting sun, sending it to him, silently wishing he was with you to admire the view. 

You really want to call him. And to hang out with him. But for some reason, the thought of that springs up immediate anxiety and you shy away from asking. Him sending you cute good morning texts doesn’t help, either. Maybe it’s better he doesn’t know that you’re a blushing, stuttering mess each time you read “baby”. 

Late evening. Your stream is already set up, people are slowly trickling in and you greet them with a grin and a soft “Hello! Hi hi!”. You did your best to make your room a perfectly chaotic backdrop - led lights, an embarrassing amount of anime merch and plushies. You always try to balance out your weeb side by dressing hot as fuck for your streams - today’s inspiration just so happens to be egirls. Mostly because you watched one too many egirl make-up tutorials on TikTok, and also because you’ve been listening to Corpse’s song all day.

Yeah, no, who are you kidding, you dressed up this way because you were hoping Corpse was watching your stream. You didn’t forget your cat headphones, either. You know he likes them. You want to make him suffer. Perhaps then, finally, he will ask you out, so you wouldn’t have to.

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“I feel like,” You start when you put away your phone, staring idly at the chat, “I feel like I need a new name for you guys. Calling you guys after two years of streaming is just... weird, no? I also don’t respect men so I don’t want to call you guys. Like, so many creator’s have, like, a name for their fans. Uhm, Cody Ko has the chodesters, Kurtis Conner has, uh, folks? Kurtis Town? Citizens! Markiplier has mommy issues--” You can’t help snorting, “So, I’ve been, like, thinking - I know, shocking! - so I was thinking I’m gonna name you cockroaches. Because you’re grimy little shits impossible to kill. And also then I can use the legendary Minaj meme ROACHES!”

Your stream enthusiastically echoes ROACHES, making the chat swim. Yes, if anyone would enjoy such a name, it would be your audience. You’re as equally proud as you are disturbed.

“Well, anyway.” Leaning back into your chair, you throw your arms out with a bright grin, “Big dick is back in town, baby! If you noticed the backdrops different, it’s cuz I’m in Brooklyn now. Don’t ask me when I will return to Always Sunny, I don’t plan that far ahead.”

While Minecraft boots up, you decide to answer a few questions.

r u dating sykkuno?

You want to smack your head into the keyboard, but as it is, you can’t exactly afford a new one, so you refrain, “No, Sykkuno and I are not dating, we are just good friends. Uhm, I’m not sure how much I’ll have to repeat this, but, we really aren’t, so if the roaches could chill - Oh my God, that sounds so stupid, I love it - uh, yeah, if the roaches could chill that’d be great.”

the roaches lmao sounds like we’re a sports team

“Oh shit, yeah it does, uh-- maybe I can make like, jerseys or something. That’d be cool, I think.”

how disappointed are your parents with the way your life turned out?

“My parents are actually not disappointed at all!” You say with a cute little smile, “Uhm, they’re both really proud, actually. They’re glad I found something I love doing and made a job outta it. Dad finds my Youtube videos endearing. Yes, they watch pretty much all of my videos, unless I explicitly tell them not to. And yeah, with all the fucks and thirsting for anime characters. Uhm, it was very embarrassing at first, but I mean, after a while, shame just...doesn’t exist anymore, I guess? Funny thing about my parents, actually, when they watch my videos-” You eye catches a comment, “Oh! No, they only watch my Youtube videos. They don’t know how to use Twitter, thank God. Uhm, anyway-- when they hear a name they don’t know, like, I dunno, Dabi, or something, they google--” You’re grinning by now, eyes crinkling, giggling softly, “--who that is, and buy me like, merch and stuff. It’s really cute. 

can i be adopted by ur parents plz

will you and corpse ever collab?!

You were about to answer, though the man of the hour himself decides to do it for you.

Corpse_Husband: yes.

Okay, not to say your heart skipped a beat, but it totally did. With a pleased smile, you nod, like one of those bobble head toys sold at the dollar store. The motion is oddly reminiscent of Sykkuno’s own nod. Perhaps you had picked it up from him. The chat seems to notice.

pack it up, sykkuno

More questions pile about this mysterious collab you and Corpse are planning. Yeah, you’d like to hear more about it, too, since he single highhandedly decided one was happening right now. Corpse remains silent. Fine, keep your secrets. 

“Okay, guys, oh, I mean, roaches, Oh my God--” You’re covering your mouth, giggling, “-calling all roaches, calling all roaches, calm down. Everyone grab a snack and a blanket I’m turning up the music volume so we can all chill. Entering chill zone. Entering chill zone. Roaches, prepare.”

we are prepared

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An hour or so passes and you grow hungry. It shows with the amount of cakes you had baked in your server. Currently, you find yourself throwing eggs at the wall of one of the renovated houses, your face scrunched in concentration and slight frustration. 24 of the 50 eggs have been wasted. “What’s a girl gotta do to get some chicks around here?” you had uttered under your breath, until, finally, a screech - the egg finally spawns a mob. Your mouth falls open, “Aww, look!” You approach it, so small, walking in zigzags beside you, “It’s a baby chicken! Die, bitch.” The baby chicken is no more as you swing your bedazzled (you have mods) diamond sword. You’re cackling by the time the dust settles.

y/n is a child murderer

“Roaches,” You address your fan-base, spurring another fit of laughter - you can’t get over the name, “I think I’m like, forgetting that eating in Minecraft won’t actually make less hungry in real life.”

take a break and go eat queen <3

“Fuck no, we starve and die like men. Now I actually really need another chicken.”

Another twenty minutes trickle by and you’re trying to lure back a panda from the jungle when there’s a knock on your bedroom’s door. Whipping your head to the side, you slide down your headphones. At the same time, your mom pokes her head through the ajar door, “MOM!” You scream, “Get OUT of my room I’m playing Minecraft!” But your yell has no actual bite to it, as you don’t manage to hide your smile. Your mom laughs, doing some sort of sign language and motioning for you to follow her with her head. That or it’s some sort of performative dance. 

“I’m live right now,” You tell her, pointing at your screen. She knows this already, though, “do you want to say hi?” 

The roaches spam the chat with friendly hellos. You mom, quite impatient now, waves you over. 

“Sorry, roaches, mom needs something. Be back in a bit!”

Stopping the stream, you rush out of your seat and pleased she slinks into the hallway. “What’s this about?”

“Your pizza came.”

“My what now?” You echo, confused.

“Domino’s. You ordered pizza?”

“What? No? I was busy with the stream, I never--”

Thankfully, you had managed to grab your phone from your room before you exited. You almost choke on spit once you read the messages.

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You decide that it’ll be impossible to stream after experiencing what you had just experienced. You tweet out a quick apology to the roaches (God, that fucking name) and say that you had a breakdown but you’re okay. That is as a close to the truth as you managed to muster. It’s a sad sight, chewing and crying; your mom winced when she saw your state - disheveled hair and rundown eyeliner and everything. “D’aww,” She had muttered, caressing the top of your head, “don’t cry my little raccoon.”

If anyone was ever to ask you where did your chaotic nature come from, you’d answer with my mom. To make yourself feel better, you took a selfie - duck face and peace sign and the horrible 2000′s angle. Sent it to Rae. 

looking hot, her message read. 

thanks, was all you replied with.

You couldn’t just leave things as they were. Once you calmed down, you wanted to text Corpse, but how would you follow up the ungodly caps lock and screeching? Impossible. An idea sprung to mind, one that was brave. Taking the first step.

Instead of sending a text, you sent a voice memo.

“Thank you for the pizza, it was delicious.”

You voice still sounded a bit raspy. His reply was instant. Your heart skipped a beat. He sent a voice memo back.

“Glad you liked it, baby.”

He was going to be the death of you.

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tags (in italics is those i couldn’t tag! make sure all’s ok w your settings!) : @littlebabysandboxburritos - @fairywriter-oracle - @tsukishimawh0re - @ofstarsanddreams - @bbecc-a - @annshit - @leahh19 - @letsloveimagines - @bellomi-clarke - @wineandionysus - @guiltydols - @onephootinfrontoftheother - @liamakorn - @thirstyfangirl - @lilysdaydreams - @pan-ini - @mxqicshxp - @tanchosanke - @yoshinorecommends - @flightsandfantasy - @liljennyx3 - @slashersdream - @unknown-and-invisible - @sinister-sleep - @fivedicksinatrenchcoat - @mercury–moon - @peterparkerspjsuit - @unstableye - @simonsbluee - @shinyshimaagain - @ppopty - @siriuslystupid - @crapimahuman - @ofthedewthesunlight - @mythicalamphitrite - @artsyally - @corpsesimpp - @corpsewhitetee - @corpse-husbandsimp - @hyp-oh-critical - @roses-and-grasses - @rhyrhy462 - @sparklylandflaplawyer - @charbkgo - @airwaveee - @creativedogs - @kaitlyn2907 - @loxbbg - @afuckingunicornn - @fleurmoon - @yeolliedokai - @truly-dionysus - @multi-fandom-central707

more tags are in the comments bcs tumblr only allows me to tag 50 people max 💙

[ev-pierce-writes]

Doll

Pairing: Bucky Barnes (Winter Soldier) x F!Reader

Words: 7.7K

Rating: Very much 18+

Warnings: P in V, oral (fem receiving), light (consensual) choking, praise, James Buchanan Barnes is a sad boy and only you can make him happy, mutual therapy over past trauma, a couple light spanks, and some sexy sparring

Note: Reader had a run-in with Hydra that gave you invisibility powers. Bucky is tasked with training you. Totally not canon, I just kept the parts I liked. Got the idea from a tiktok but I can't find it anymore oops. I'm thinking of turning it into a series of all the places you can fuck Bucky Barnes at Avengers HQ. Enjoyyyyyy....

---

"Alright, so I'm thinking absolutely the first thing you need is a suit. Because we can't have you sneaking around in clothes that give you away."

Tony Stark and Peter Parker stand before you at Avengers HQ, furiously tossing ideas back and forth, trying to come up with ways to build you the best possible suit. Last night had been...interesting, to say the least.

"Who's that?" Stark had said when you appeared all of a sudden from your room. "Come on Agent Hill, don't tell me you're taking in lost kids nowadays."

Your mother had only laughed, slightly inebriated and feeling loose because of all the drinking that was going on in your penthouse apartment. She was hosting one of those parties where too many superpowers drank too much alcohol and got a little too rowdy. "That's my daughter."

Usually, you stay away from such events, go out with friends, and avoid the house until it's all over. For the past four years, you hadn't even been in the house to need to avoid it. But now you're 22 and a recent college graduate and something about the party was drawing you in so you had emerged from your hideaway to join in the fun.

"Alright, Maria, how'd you manage to keep that one a secret?" Romanov spoke up.

Until this point, you'd remained silent, in shock at the sudden attention a group of superheroes had focused onto you. But you couldn't help yourself from responding now. You'd managed to hide away long enough. It was time to come into the open.

"I'm a ghost," you said jokingly, approaching the couch and stealing the drink your mother had been drinking to take a sip. It was strong and burned on the way down. The group laughed at your words, unaware of how true they really were.

It was then that you'd performed your little trick, the one that only a few of your closest friends had ever seen. You became invisible.

The laughter had immediately stopped. The girl who suddenly appeared out of thin air had disappeared right back into it. They could still tell where you were of course. The glass in your hand remained visible, floating in mid-air, giving away your position. And your clothes were still perceptible, not being able to change with you. But your features were otherwise undetectable, not even a shimmer revealing your face. You took another sip of the drink, liquid disappearing into an invisible mouth.

"I want her. On the team," Stark had said.

And that was it. The start of your superhero career.

"Explain again exactly how this works?" Parker asks.

You sigh and start from the beginning, again. "I can distort the absorption wavelengths of my cells so that the reflected light is in the invisible range, usually infrared."

"And how long can you hold it for?"

"About seven minutes now," you explain. "It's sort of like holding your breath. You can go underwater for a while, and you can practice holding your breath longer and longer, but eventually, you need to come up for air. Eventually, I have to 'recharge.' But I've been working on extending it."

Stark turns to one of the many holograms of his supercomputer, working with Friday to design a brand new suit to accommodate your skills. You're so engrossed in watching his process you don't even notice the shadowy figure appear in the doorway that leads to the training facilities.

"How'd you get these powers? Agent Hill isn't lacking in skill but it certainly isn't supernatural."

You knew Stark's question would come up eventually. It always did. Over time, it became easier to tell the story, but now you really don't feel like explaining fully, so you tell the short version.

"Hydra. When I was seventeen. They used me as a bargaining chip against my mom in a mission gone wrong and decided to experiment on me in the process. Left me with a lot of scars and a lot of therapy. Almost dropped out of school."

You don't remember much from the experience. But enough for it to leave lasting damage.

"Hydra?" a familiar voice asks behind you. Only now do you notice that Barnes is behind you. How long has he been watching?

You remain silent, just like you did the night before when he'd arrived late to the party, unable to speak under his gaze.

You had planned to leave not long after you joined the festivities. But when the elevator doors opened, a pair of blue eyes halted you in your path. James Buchanan Barnes, the Winter Soldier. You'd recognize those eyes anywhere. Crystal clear and icy, freezing you under their gaze. He wore a leather jacket and leather gloves, concealing his metal arm, but you knew it was there, hiding behind the layers.

Barnes had always been the one that caught your eye during your mother's briefings. His transition from the greatest warrior Hydra had to offer, and thus S.H.I.E.L.D.'s greatest enemy, to the trusted companion of Captain America and official Avengers member intrigued you. At first, he had been more of a schoolgirl crush, the little girl grappling with her new powers seeking guidance in someone who didn't even know she existed. But age had not reduced your admiration of him. Barnes' face was hard set in serious determination and his glance barely grazed over you before turning to the rest of the group. He paid you not a single ounce of attention, yet you felt dumbstruck in his presence.

But Bucky had noticed you that night. Noticed you in a way he wanted desperately to hide, so he disallowed his eyes from lingering on you. Who were you and why were you wearing pajamas at a party and how did you make them actually look good?

And not only did he notice you, but he recognized you. He wasn't sure how, but something at the back of his head buried beneath decades of blurred half-memories told him he knew you. It was a stupid thought, though. How could he know you?

From the doorway, his eyes narrow in concern, making you feel smaller than ever beneath him. How is that 5 o'clock shadow so enticing? You just want to run your fingers across--

Stark gestures at Barnes, completely ignoring his comment. "Good, you're here. Our young Agent Hill needs to get started with her training immediately. I want her in the field but she can't be going in inexperienced. Teach her the works."

It's rather bold of Stark to assume you have no combat skills. And to assume you even want to go into the field. But you follow behind Barnes in silence anyway toward the training facilities. It doesn't matter what you know and don't know. He's going to kick your ass anyway.

"Feet wider," he says, coaching you on your swing. His blue eyes have somehow darkened, and along with the faint beard, he looks positively dangerous. "Not too wide."

"I know how to punch, Barnes," you whisper under your breath. He's not meant to hear your words, but he does anyway.

"Oh yeah? Punch me then. Go for it." His voice is challenging in the way that reveals he knows he could block any swing that comes at him. But he wants to see what will happen. Your mention of Hydra loosened a memory in his brain somewhere, and though he can't quite place his finger on it, the memory told him you're anything but the kid he's treating you like. He wants to know what you really have inside you.

Your annoyance gets the best of you. You aim for his face, the way your mother taught you. And she taught you well, teaching you all the self-defense skills you might need moving through the world as a woman. But she did not teach you how to fight super soldiers. That's an entirely different world.

Unsurprisingly, Barnes predicts your move and his metal arm comes up to meet your human one, halting your punch mid-swing. His palm fully engulfs your fist, your knuckles slamming into the metal with a ringing sound.

"Fuck, that hurt," you seethe through your teeth, gripping your hand in pain. And yet, you still smile. You mean for your words to sound irritated, but they betray how much you enjoy getting a swing in. "Didn't have to do me like that, Barnes."

He ignores your pain, though secretly it pleases him to find how much force is truly behind your punch. Nothing, of course, his metal arm can't take, but strong enough. "Language, kid. Go again. And this time, try not to be so obvious."

Despite his advice, it's impossible. He predicts every one of your strikes and counters them with four times as much strength as you possess. You give him everything you have, and nothing lands.

"This would be a lot easier if you let me use my powers."

So far, Barnes has refused to let you fight invisible, not that it would have done you much good without a proper suit. But you're tired and sweaty, your hair falling from its ponytail and sticking to your face, your muscles aching and your heart beating fast. Barnes hasn't even broken a sweat.

"Unless you learn to fight without your powers, they'll do nothing more than level the playing field. You need to be at an advantage if you're going to survive."

Survive. You've done plenty of that already. You want better than survival. Barnes recognizes the look on your face, the one that expresses the desire plainly. He knows the feeling, drifting from one day to the next and wanting more than that.

His voice softens a bit. "We can call it quits for the day. Get some rest. We'll go again tomorrow."

He didn't intend to be so kind. It just sort of happened, drawn out of him by the not-so-innocent girl who still has a lot to learn but can hold her own better than most.

---

Tomorrow. Tomorrow's8 like the day before, 9 am at HQ, wait for Parker to get his ass up the elevator so Stark can begin, get sidetracked by coffee, and then finally return to the task at hand.

"Give this a shot," Stark says, handing you what looks like nothing more than a vaguely human-shaped paper suit. "Not exactly protective, but it's a new technology. Should conform to your abilities."

"You did this overnight?"

"Of course. Get changed."

The suit has little support and definitely no protection. You feel like a fingernail could rip a hole through it if you pull on it wrong, let alone a knife coming at you from an angry enemy. But it's a start. An impressive start. You stare at yourself in the mirror of the bathroom as you shift, the suit shifting along with you.

Back in the training facilities, where you know Stark and Parker will be waiting, you remain in your shifted form. They don't look up as you enter, somehow having not heard you, and instead are engaged in a heated discussion with Barnes about something you don't understand. So you creep up behind Parker, lean in, and whisper into his ear.

"I think it works."

You feel a little bad, but only for a moment. Parker jumps straight out of his skin, screaming a scream you didn't know was possible from the kid. Stark lets out a laugh as you rematerialize, and Barnes even cracks a smile at your prank.

"Yeah, yeah, I'd say so." Parker's voice quivers.

"Well, what do you think?" Stark asks.

"Very thin," you say, aware that much more is visible than you really want. "I feel like it's going to rip at any moment. And there's not a whole lot of support in this area."

You gesture vaguely at your chest, not knowing how best to explain to a group of men that a sports bra is a necessity for fighting, but knowing you have to make them aware all the same. You can feel Barnes' eyes on you, a little less polite than the others, and you find you like the way he eyes you up, a bit like a puzzle to be solved or a strategy to be devised.

"Right, right, I'll get on that. Only a prototype anyway," Stark responds nervously. "Back to work, Parker. Hill, Barnes, back to training."

Bucky tries his best not to picture what you might look like without that suit, but it leaves little to the imagination as you saunter away to change again.

And so the days move forward. You've never before been so busy or exhausted in your life. You just graduated college, which is a feat in itself, but all the training, all the work, keeps you on your toes so that by the end of the day, both your brain and your body are tired.

Still, you improve and get better at sparring Barnes, even taking him down a couple of times on your own, though you suspect he's going easy on you.

"Again." Barnes is already on his feet and helping you to yours. Today the sparring room is particularly warm, and you've long forgone your sweats for shorts and a sports bra. Barnes has lost the shirt as well, and his chest glistens with sweat beneath the fluorescent lights. Maybe it's the heat or maybe it's him, but the whole thing feels a bit dreamlike. Here you are, sparring with a man who could take you to the ground with one arm alone, and he's letting you kick his ass every once in a while.

But there's no way you can do it again. You feel destroyed by all the slamming onto the mat.

Barnes is doing his best not to be distracted as well, but those tight shorts and the top that reveals your midriff have to be on purpose. It's easy to admit to himself that he likes you, might even be attracted to you. You fight hard and relentlessly, rising to every one of his challenges and not backing down even when you're tired. You've already come a long way since that first encounter, and Barnes has come to look forward to the two hours a day you spend together in the gym. He had tried to tell himself it was the fun of having a new sparring partner, but in truth, he knows it's the determined glint in your eyes, the way you bounce on your feet in excited anticipation of the fight, the way you collapse on the mat after a hard session, chest heaving deep breaths in and out. But what he likes most is your heated gaze when he pins you to the ground, or even better, you pin him.

"Knock me down one more time and you can be done," he challenges. The familiar determination returns, though a flicker of doubt remains behind your eyes. He can tell you need encouragement. "Remember to use your size to your advantage. Don't let me get ahead of you. Keep me guessing."

You do your best. You really do. You hold your own for almost two minutes, but it's obvious you're only barely staying ahead of him. As soon as you falter, Barnes has you flat on your back on the mat without much resistance, immobilized by a knee on your thighs and his metal arm trapping your hands over your head. His free hand plants by your head and holds him up to prevent him from actually hurting you.

You gasp underneath him, trying to disguise the weird flicker of desire with breathlessness. He looks good from down here, all sweaty and dark and serious. But you're also a bit too tired to care. "I'm out, Barnes. Let me go."

Let me go. Please.

And that's when the memory returns. The full, real memory, the one that has been tickling the edges of his brain since he first saw you. You, a kid, his mission. Kidnap, don't kill. A small voice, your voice, begging. Please, let me go. What has he done?

"Fuck," he curses under his breath, standing up quickly.

"Language, Barnes," you say teasingly. But he doesn't laugh, simply exits the sparring room, abruptly leaving you, speechless and alone on the floor. What just happened?

After a moment of confused silence on the mat, you brush it off and stand, heading to your room for a shower. Stark offered you a place to stay at HQ, and you happily agreed. Though you loved being back with your mother after four years away at college, you cherish your independence. A room at HQ offered you just that.

A nice shower would certainly make you feel better after that confusing interaction. You pull on your robe and shower shoes, leaving your clothes behind so as to carry one less thing. But as you pass down the hall toward the showers, you can hear Barnes' voice drift through the slightly open door to his room.

"I remembered," he says. "It was her. I'm the reason she's--" He cuts off, appearing to be interrupted by whoever he's talking to on the phone. You pause by the open door.

"I know that's not me anymore but I'm still responsible," he continues. "I have to tell her."

Again a pause. By now it's apparent he's talking about you.

"No, Steve, we aren't a team. We aren't partners. I'm helping Tony out. I don't care if she doesn't want to work with me anymore, this is part of my redemption. I have to tell her."

The conversation seems over. You rush to the showers, not wanting Barnes to realize you were listening the whole time. Apologize, he said. Apologize for what? You've known him for a whole of four days and he's been nothing but polite to you. Cold, at first, but he warms upon acquaintance. And then he's downright sweet.

So sweet, you realize, for someone so damaged. He has every right to hate the world, and though he walks through it with a healthy dose of cynicism, he never lets that cynicism touch you. If anything, he's outright positive around you, an undeserving brat. A kid, really, though you don't like when he calls you that. You know you can be naive, positive on the verge of artificiality, and yet he never tries to burst your bubble. In fact, he seems to relish it.

The shower feels nice, but it does nothing to assuage your fears. Maybe it's you who has done something wrong? Now you're spiraling. You have to find out what's going on or it's going to drive you crazy.

You know what you have to do. You have just about seven minutes of invisibility before your shifting gives out. In those seven minutes, you can duck from the showers, sneak into Barnes' room, snoop around, and make it back to the showers unseen. Plenty of time. But you have to go nude. Now would be a great time for the suit, but no such luck. Naked it is.

Out in the hallway, all is quiet. Barnes' door is still ajar, but when you peek your head in, the room is empty.

Easy.

Where to start? His phone is a dead end, being one of those ancient flipping kinds rather than a new, high-tech smartphone. He has few personal belongings, the bed is made perfectly, and his closet contains only clothes.

The drawers of the nightstand are empty. Or nearly empty. At the back of the top drawer is unceremoniously shoved a small booklet with a pen stuck between the pages. It's worn and supple, as though held a thousand times and read a thousand more. You flip through, finding a list of names, some crossed out, others not. Your name does not appear, but something about the list tells you these are not ordinary names. These are the names of his victims, people Barnes hurt as the Winter Soldier. Your heart aches and your stomach clenches, the reminder of his past jarring against the kind demeanor you've come to know. But deep down, you know this isn't him, know he's a good man, despite it all.

You know better than most the first-hand horrors of Hydra's super-soldier experiments. Of anyone, you can relate best to the experience Barnes has been through. Your memories of that long week are blurry, but the pain remains, forever seared into your mind. You can only imagine a lifetime of that pain.

The sound of the door opening jolts you from your reverie and you close the drawer quickly. But you soon realize your mistake. Barnes would know he left the door open, would know exactly how he placed his book in the drawer, would recognize something was off. Unfortunately, you're right.

"Hello?" he calls into the darkening room. The evening is coming on fast and the sun dims to barely glimmer, casting the space in shadow despite the large windows on the south wall.

Bucky knows something is off the moment he finds your room unoccupied, having gone there with the express purpose of confronting you about his actions earlier in the afternoon. And though he has no way of truly knowing, he suspects you are now here, in this room with him, invisible to his gaze. Bucky shuts the door behind him and waits.

You're trapped. You don't have long before your powers give out; already the suffocating feeling that begs you to take a breath is coming on. And Barnes has closed the door, effectively sealing you in, as you can't open it without him knowing for sure that you're here. On top of that, you're clothingless. You've run out of options and Barnes seems to sense this. So, he waits, drawing out the moment of tension, building the suspense.

"I know you're here," he says finally, his voice soft and barely audible. "You can't hide that well. Next time, dry your feet off before you go leaving wet footprints all over the place."

Oops.

"I--" you begin, and immediately Barnes' eyes snap to where your voice originates from. "I'm sorry. I overheard your conversation with Rogers. I shouldn't have but I know it was about me."

Barnes sighs, shoving his hands in his pockets. "Yeah, you're right. I have some things to explain. Though I'd much prefer talking to you if I could see you."

You hesitate. "Only a slight problem there. I'm not wearing any clothes."

If it had been any lighter in the room you would have seen Barnes blush. Instead, you watch him pull his shirt over his head. He hands it to you blindly, the shirt off his own back, soft with wear and long enough to cover the tops of your thighs. It smells of him, salty with sweat and sweet with the scent you've come to recognize only as him. You shrug it on and shift back.

"I'm sorry," you say again, having trouble concentrating with Barnes' bare chest at your eye level. Is that an old bullet wound on his shoulder? The reminder of a knife across his stomach? You can't look away, even at the seam where man meets metal.

Barnes shakes his head. "No, I should be the one apologizing."

He pauses for a moment and tries to begin several times before finally forming a complete sentence.

"It's my fault you're like this, that Hydra tested on you. It was me who kidnapped you, it was me who followed orders, it was me who completed the mission and got you hurt. And I'm so sorry."

You're so frozen in shock that the absurdity of the situation doesn't even register. There's nothing under this shirt, no underwear, no pants, no bra. And here you are standing in the bedroom of your greatest inspiration, listening to him apologize for being the one that facilitated your kidnapping, for being responsible for all the injury, the pain, the nightmares, the isolation, the...

It all comes flooding back, the things you had forgotten, or simply chose to not remember, and one of those things is his face.

You thought you'd dealt with impact. So many hours with a therapist, and you realize all you did was suppress the feelings, not confront them. And then you break, all the anger and sadness and frustration flowing from you at once.

"You piece of shit." Your voice begins as a whisper but soon amplifies nearly to a shout. "You monster, you bastard, how could you? How could you?"

All this time you forgave him for the damage he'd done, excused it as brainwashing and manipulation from Hydra. But now that it's you he's involved, you have somewhere to direct your anger, and you take it out as a shove straight to his chest.

He didn't expect that one. The words he understood. He accepted those, accepted that you would hate him forever. But then you're pushing and hitting him with all your force. Barnes could fight back, could hold his ground. But you need this, so he lets you shove him into the wall with a newfound strength. Finally against the wall, with nowhere left to go, you turn to pummelling his chest with your fists, repeating the words over and over, how could you, how could you, how could you.

For a moment, he lets it happen. But eventually, Barnes reacts, grabbing your wrists and holding them to his chest in an attempt to calm the fury that rages inside you. Surprisingly, at his touch, you still, slumping against him once the anger is replaced with nothing but sadness. That anger, one you never truly realized you'd harbored since your capture, bled from you all at once, leaving you exhausted.

You don't notice you're crying until a soft thumb wipes a tear from your cheek. Barnes releases your hands and wraps his arms around your sobbing body, pulling you close. "I'm so sorry," he repeats in your ear, his words a whisper against the rage inside your head.

Is it hours, or only minutes, standing like that, wrapped up in him, his skin so soft against your cheek? Time has ceased to exist, melting into the nighttime that encompasses the room in near pitch-black darkness. Your breath calms, your heart rate slows, the tears dry. He's only a man, a broken, misplaced, lost man. But he's also impossibly kind to you, caring enough to train you day after day, to pick you up when you fall down, to ensure you're happy here at all times. That's the man you know and rest your cheek against and seek out for comfort in this moment, despite him being the reason for your anger. But he's not truly the reason for your anger, only an easy outlet standing right before you.

This is not how Bucky had expected this to go. Perhaps to never see you again, yes. But to hold you in his arms, certainly not. And not just hold you, but comfort you. It surprises him how much he finds he likes it. And he can't ignore the fact that you're here in his room, wearing his shirt and only his shirt. He doesn't try anything improprietous, just wraps his arms around your waist, but it's not lost on him that your supple chest is pressed against him and the delicious scent from your still wet hair is filling his brain with a flowery cloud. His stomach clenches at the thought of burying his face in that smell for the rest of the night but he pushes it aside. That's not why you're here. That's not what you want.

But your next words surprise him. You pull slightly away, tilting your splotchy face upward towards his to look him in the eye. You take a ragged breath and speak.

"I forgive you."

Bucky is taken aback. That's not why he made this confession, not to seek your forgiveness. "You don't have to do that."

"I know. But I do. And I know you think I'm just a kid--"

Barnes lets out a short laugh, cutting you off immediately. "Jesus Christ, that's not true. You're not a kid. You're smart and strong and capable. And you've seen the ugly world for its true self and choose to remain good and happy all the same. I'm not like that and that makes you wiser than I'll ever be."

He takes a deep breath, unsure if he should admit to the feelings he desperately wants to express to you. The way you're looking at him, with a mixture of hesitation and admiration, makes the words tumble from his mouth without a second thought.

"But somehow being around you makes me want to be good again. Not for my sake, but for yours."

"James, I--" You've never used his first name before, but it falls deliciously from your lips, the sound of it nearly distracting him from the finger you run across the stubble on the cleft of his chin. Nearly. He captures that hand in his own, holding it there against his face.

"You don't have to forgive me. I don't deserve it," he repeats, eyes falling shut to the feeling of your thumb pressed to the corner of his lips. He still holds you close, the other arm wrapping tight around you, and though verbally he rejected the comfort your warmth offered, his body says otherwise, desperate for the acceptance his brain refuses to give into.

"Stop punishing yourself," you whisper. For a moment, he almost feels that he could.

And when your lips find his, soft and delicate, he forgets why you're even here in the first place, forgets his guilt and your anger, forgets even to react.

His lack of response has you pulling away, worried you've done something wrong, but then he's chasing your lips with his own, leaning forward to meet you halfway, gathering you impossibly tighter to his chest. He pauses, mouth mere centimeters from yours, eyes still shut, a deep breath heaving from his chest. He wants more, wants to kiss you again in all the places that count, but he can't quite yet.

"What was that for?" The question's not an accusatory one but simply curious. Have you always looked at him in this light since day one? Has he just not noticed?

"Are you blind, Barnes?"

He laughs and shakes his head. "None of that last name shit, doll, we've moved on to a first-name basis."

But your words are enough to surge him forward, this time capturing your lips in a dominating kiss that leaves you gasping for air. He takes advantage of your open mouth and presses his tongue to yours, seeking to fill his soul with your all-consuming warmth, to wrap it around him like a cocoon of your scent. His fingers slide down your back and slip under the shirt you wear, his shirt, grasping at the bare skin of your ass, filling his hands with your supple flesh.

You moan softly under his touch, relishing in the feeling of being encompassed by someone so large and so strong. The vibranium arm, which you expected to be harshly indelicate against your relative fragility, caresses you with the same gentility of the other. The intense contact sends your heart racing like it did all the times you were pinned below him on the sparring mat. Will he pin you like that in bed? Hold you down while he fucks you within an inch of your life?

The thought rouses a heat between your legs and stirs butterflies in your tummy. You don't even know if that's where this is going, but it invades your brain anyways. You're sure Barnes can feel your racing pulse beneath his lips when he kisses your neck, sending your nerves haywire as he creeps toward the neckline of your shirt. He inhales your scent, the hot air of his breath fanning your cool skin.

Everything about this is sloppy, the wet kisses dragged across your skin, his tongue tangled with yours, your fingers tugging at the hair that brushes the nape of his neck. Even his hips against yours are messy and rough, the heat of him leaving your core feeling slick, the wetness of it rubbing between your naked thighs. And then Barnes is sliding his hands back up your body, this time under your shirt, and tugging it over your head, his lips leaving your skin just long enough to toss the item to the ground.

You expect him to keep surging forward, to lift you in his arms and take you to bed like you want him to. But he pauses instead, hands cradling the back of your head, his eyes staring intensely into yours. Or you think he's staring into your eyes.

"Are you okay? Is this okay?" His voice is full of concern but raspy with arousal all the same.

"Yes, James, yes, I need more."

"Well, I would, it's just that you've disappeared on me again." One look at your hands and you know he was looking right through you, not at you. The swirl of emotions--pleasure, arousal, timidity even--sent you shifting without your knowledge. You can't help but laugh.

"Let me see you, doll," he groans, sounding exasperated that he can't rake his gaze across your naked flesh or find all the places he wants to touch you because they're invisible.

"You first."

A heated understanding lights up his eyes, still vibrant in the darkness of the room. Slowly, he releases his grip on you, relenting to not knowing where you are in space. You take an invisible step back to get a better view of the specimen before you. With one hand, he unbuckles his belt, sliding the leather from his pants and dropping it to the floor with a thunk. And then his pants are gone and he's left in his boxers, tight against the bulging muscles of his thighs.

And other bulging things. He doesn't hide his attraction to you. But still, you do not reappear.

Bucky begins to worry you're never going to, that maybe he's taken things too for. But then, a soft finger trails across his neck and he jerks in surprise. You're tracing the plain of his chest with a feather-light touch, dipping into the indent between his collarbones, feeling along the puckered scar of a bullet wound and the long slice of a knife. He feels healed beneath your touch, but it's not enough to satisfy the insatiable hunger building in the tightness of his groin. This entire evening has been a long, drawn-out, build-up of tension, and if he doesn't release it soon, it will snap like an overstretched rubber band.

He makes his move.

Apparently, Bucky's senses are just as perceptive here as they are on the sparring mat. His metal hand shoots up and wraps around the wrist of the hand on his chest, despite being unable to see it. The other reaches out and grapples at your invisible body in the dark, somehow finding your waist. He doesn't need to see you to manage to flip you around and press your back against his chest. In your surprise, your invisibility falters, and you flicker out of your shifted form with a flustered squeak, one hand suddenly pinned between your back and Bucky's rock-hard chest.

He holds on with an iron grip and walks you toward the bed, holding you up to prevent you from tripping in your ruffled state.

"You're taking too long, doll," he mumbles into your ear, and you feel his chest rumble with the vibrations. Your free hand flies to the one around your waist, which is slowly creeping upward toward your breast to twist at the sensitive nipple. "I know you like it when I pin you on the sparring floor. I can see it in your eyes. I'll take you like that right now if you give me the word."

Fuck, you want nothing more but you can't breathe enough to get the words out, opting for nodding vigorously instead. But Bucky wants words, gently prodding you forward to get a verbal commitment out of you. He will never take you against your will again. So you manage a long, drawn-out please and suddenly you're face-first in the sheets, bent halfway at the waist, your ass grinding against the delicious bulge pressed against your aching cunt. It pleases you that he has been thinking the same wicked thoughts as you when he slams you to the mat over and over again in training.

Bucky pulls your arm out from underneath you, joining it with the other and holding them together with his metal fist at your lower back, forcing your chest further into the mattress and your ass higher in the air. There's no way for you to move, no matter how hard you try. But you don't try, won't try. Bucky has you right where you want to be.

"Tell me if it's too much," he murmurs in your ear and you breathe an affirmation. His teeth nibble suddenly at your ear lobe and you squirm, the sensation of his breath fanning your skin sending goosebumps along the trail of kisses he leaves down your spine. Somehow, you know this is only the calm before the storm, the gentle caresses of a man who's about to rearrange every organ in your body, all the way up to your heart if you aren't careful.

It doesn't matter to you that it's pitch black in the room; you wouldn't have been able to see anything with your face shoved into the comforter, even if the lights were on. But Bucky's starting to regret having left the lights off, wishing he could better see the curve of your hips, the swell of your thighs, or the bloom of his handprint on your ass when his hand comes down with a smack. He resigns to being satisfied by the mewling gasp that escapes your lips and your soft pleas to Do it again, harder.

So he does. Smack.

And then he's sinking to his knees and you can tell because he leaves a wet stripe of skin with his tongue over the globe of your ass and blows a shock of cool air across the rawness of your skin.  He replaces the sting of his hand with the bite of his teeth and then a kiss to soothe you again. The rollercoaster of sensations has you moaning against the mattress and rocking your hips toward his face and Barnes chuckles at your movement, your actions giving away the desperation you feel to have his tongue move to more sensitive places.

He is happy to oblige. You hadn't even noticed you'd been squeezing your thighs together until he slid a hand up between them, forcing them apart. It's a blessing your legs aren't doing any work to keep you up anymore because they feel like jelly under his touch. The hand between your thighs moves higher still until you feel his thumb pressed to your sensitive clit, warm and twitching with anticipation, desire coursing through your veins and dripping from your wet cunt. Your ears barely register that he's speaking, the blood is pumping so hard in your ears, but his words are exalting.

"Look at you, so wet for me." The hand around your wrists tightens just slightly. You are surprised by the extreme control he has over the cool metal fingers, and you almost wish he'd use those on you instead. And then he says, "you like it, don't you, doll, being at my mercy," and you forget all about the arm and decide it doesn't matter what hand presses down with a gentle strength on your clit as long as he doesn't stop. And he doesn't. Doesn't move, doesn't flinch or twitch or falter, just holds steady until your gasping mewls die down just enough for you to say, "yes, all for you, all for you, all..."

With those words, his thumb slips, between your slick folds into your pussy, finding the soft spongy flesh and pressing down again and you cry out with a careening moan that tapers off into a silent sob. He's taking his time, picking you apart, pulling at the laces that bind you together, and undoing them to release the tension he knows you harbor. But what about him? Is it not torture for him?

You breathe in a rough gasp, enough to squeak out a few more words. "I thought we were going too slow for you."

He laughs, he actually laughs, at your words, but relents.

"I hear you, doll."

I hear you. Oh wow. His tongue replaces his finger and you lose all coherence, able only to blubber some iteration of his name as the smooth muscle traces circles around your clit, finally allowing your orgasm to build with a steady contraction in your pelvis. Barnes moans between your legs like he's never tasted chocolate or buttercream or any of those other wondrous flavors and there's only you. And that moan sends you overboard, the vibrations diffusing down your legs and you tremble into your first orgasm. Your first orgasm.

He keeps going, riding out the waves of your high until you're crying that it's too much, James, too much and he pulls his tongue away from your oversensitized clit only to move down your legs. He's working you up again, teasing the smooth skin of your inner thigh with gentle nips and kisses until your body is craving release again, your cunt clenching around nothing but the memory of his mouth. He is deliberate in his ministrations, methodical in the way he must be with his missions. The flood of your first orgasm has dripped steadily down your thigh and he cleans you with his tongue, dragging upward along the sticky trail of your musky release until his tongue makes contact again and he pulls an orgasm from your desperate body once more.

He still hasn't released your arms.

"You know how long I've wanted to do this?" he groans, as you shudder again into the pleasure of his touch. He kisses back up the length of your spine while you twitch under him, his free hand dragging shock wave after shock wave from your cunt. It strikes you that this man is truly 106, not 26 like his body suggests, and you absentmindedly wonder if that's why he's so good at it, that he's had years to practice. And then his cock is pressing against your folds and you forget the notion halfway through thinking it. "You're so good to me doll, so good for opening up for me. Wanna feel your tight pussy around me."

You push backward, or do your best to without the employment of your arms, wanting desperately to feel him inside you. He is warm and all-encompassing and part of you thinks his cock spilling his seed inside of you would complete you like nothing else. But you know that's a bad idea and you can hear him already unwrapping a condom (where did he get that from?) and your body trembles with the anticipation. You haven't even seen him yet but you know he must be big, the way he grunts when the tip of his erection teases your entrance.

When he enters you it isn't gentle like the stroke of his tongue. It splits you open with a rough thrust, the laces of your heart fully undone and releasing you from their confinement. You choke on your own air.

And then he's releasing your arms, and before you can react, Barnes has you lifted, your back to his chest, your knees shoved roughly into the mattress so he can stand and fuck you from behind. The metal arm finds your neck and forces your head back, his lips dragging hot against your soft skin and muttering filthy praise into your ear, his hand gently on your throat to hold you there. Your hands fly to his, not to pull him away, but to convince him to squeeze, just a little bit harder. The pressure is grounding, and then the hand around your waist is trailing toward the bud of your clit and rubbing in urgent circles and you let out a silent gasp as he thrusts into you at a pace astounding for the position you're in.

You come hard, over his hand, around his cock, and for the first time Barnes falters, stunned by the intensity with which you clamp around him and if he hadn't made you come two times already he might have held out a bit longer to pull another one of those stunning orgasms from your slick cunt. But you're sagging, using him to hold you up against the exhaustion of repeated abuse so he releases, riding the wave of pleasure you started. Bucky groans out your name, surprising you with the gentleness of it on his tongue despite the rough hand around your neck.

When he releases you softly back onto the bed, you sink heavily into the mattress, feeling high on pleasure and drunk on his hands. He pulls away and shuffles around the room, and if you had had any energy left you might have complained at the loss of him but as it sits nothing will rouse you from the intense desire to simply fall asleep.

He continues to move about and then... the lights go on? You groan at the harsh treatment of your eyes as they adjust. But Barnes returns and pulls you against him and apologizes for the rude awakening.

"Sorry, doll," he mutters. "Wanted to get a better look at you." His fingers glide along your back and his face nuzzles into the top of your head, breathing into your hair as you press your forehead into his chest. Despite being exhausted himself he trails his hands all over your body, exploring the side of you that has been shoved into the sheets for the better part of the evening. You let him, although your nerves feel fried and oversensitive to touch.

"Watch what you do with those hands," you giggle as his fingertips brush over a nipple, "unless you're ready to go again."

"Already looking forward to next time?"

"You wish," you tease, but already you know for certain that there will be a next time.