#( ♫ ) open windows - answered

[bluerthanvelvet444]

‧₊˚♫ ⋅* ‧₊✮𝐓𝐮𝐦𝐛𝐥𝐫 𝐠𝐢𝐫𝐥✮‧₊˚ ⋅*♫ ˚₊⋅

Tate Langdon x fem!reader

tags: smut with a plot and some fluff.

warnings: obsessive behavior, kind of a switch!Tate, oral (f receiving), dry humping, p in v.

summary: Tate encounters a Tumblr girl. (Inspirated a lot by the song I linked under.)

character count: 12k.

full fic under the cut ↓

.⋆.‧⋆ ✧˚₊‧⋆. ✧˚₊‧⋆‧.⋆.

2014.

Tate had never really cared about looking ‘stylish’ or ‘fitting in’ when he was alive. He had his own style, which wasn’t trendy nor one of a kind just…his. He didn’t need anyone else’s approval to believe he was cool, mostly because the girls that were attracted to him were just as fucked up as him and the popular ones tended to ignore him.

Ironical how that changed in his afterlife, once he saw you. After dying, Tate’s time was spent either with the other trapped souls or by himself. Hardly ever people moved in the Murder House, and whether they did, they were a low-budget couple in their 40s. So Tate’s knowledge of the modern outside world was poor and lacking, especially when it came to his ‘peers’. That’s why when you first moved in the house, Tate was stunned, if not flabbergasted even.

You were struggling with carrying your heavy luggage, muttering curses as the wind blew your colorful hair in your eyes. The first word that came in Tate’s mind as he watched you from the front window was “cool.”

He spent the first days of your sojourn watching you from afar, admiring the way you acted. Tate found out the way you styled your outfits in the fashionable way, how you talked to your friends in slangs and how you spent your evenings taking pictures on your polaroid and on a glowing little box, that for some strange reason you called phone, to post (that’s the term you used) on a little blue icon marked with a white t. He didn’t know what was considered popular now, but he was sure you belonged in that category, judging by the way you looked and the way your pictures had high numbers under them whenever you uploaded them. He needed wanted to approach you, and the perfect opportunity showed up when he saw you type on your glowing box:

“PARTY in the MURDER HOUSE tonite!! >_< :33!!”

.⋆.‧⋆ ✧˚₊‧⋆. ✧˚₊‧⋆‧.⋆.

The house had never been so full of alive people having fun. The doors were open, colorful lights were shining and high volume music was blasting. Tate tried blending in, although the more he looked around the more he felt…lame. The drunk teens around him were all different from each other, and none of them matched his vibe. And he even wore his favorite sweater!

Still, he had nothing to lose, so he took a deep breath and searched for you in the crowd. Tate made his way past people as they pushed him to the left and to the right. It felt weird to be seen, to be touched. He found you circled by people asking questions about the house. Was it haunted? Were there ghosts? All of which you answered with a simple “No.”.

“Of course there aren’t any ghosts, I’m keeping them away from you.” Tate thought. Since he was too nervous to actually take a few steps and start a conversation with you, he figured he’d get some punch, just to loosen up a bit. He walked towards the punch bowl, and as soon as he reached to grab a cup, his hand met yours. You both grabbed the same solo cup.

“Sorry! You can have it.” You giggled as you let him take the cup. Tate blinked a few times, eyes locked to your bright smile, before grabbing the cup and filling it up. “Be cool, Tate. Don’t mess it up.” He thought.

“Uh. So…this is your party, right?” He gulped, eyes darting around the house as if he didn’t know every single inch of it by heart.

“Yes! Thought it would’ve been fun to host a party in a so-called Murder House. Plus, this house is giant, it gets lonely after some time…You live near here? I don’t think I’ve ever seen you.” You smiled.

“Oh…yeah. My name’s Tate. I live nearby.” Tate’s eyes trailed upon your figure, he had never been able to see you from so close. You simply nodded, sipping from your cup. He cleared his throat.

“You know…I used to live in this house.” He added nonchalantly, trying so hard to sound interesting.

“Really?! No way!” Your giggles rang in his ears.

“Mhm. You probably noticed some of my things still laying around in my bedroom. No one has stepped in since I last did.” He nodded.

“Oh, do you wanna see? Maybe there’s something you left that you want back.” You replied, slightly raising your voice so that it could be heard over the music.

“I uh-There’s no need t-” He was interrupted by you grabbing his hand and leading him upstairs anyways. You opened the door of the bedroom and kicked out a couple that was making out on your bed.

“Ugh!! I should’ve locked the door!” You exclaimed, closing the door behind you two. Tate looked around, some of your things were laying around, but it was mostly all his.

“Dude you left everything here!” You giggled. Tate forced out a chuckle, everything was of course still there, since he ‘lived’ there normally and never moved.

“Yeah, uh…Guess I left in a hurry.” He muttered awkwardly and grabbed some of his Nirvana CDs.

“There they were…!” He pretended as if he didn’t just play them everyday before you came.

“CDs? Didn’t you use an IPod or something?” You gave him a confused look.

“Oh uh…no, I prefer CDs.” He nodded, as if he knew what an IPod was.

“You don’t use your phone?” You asked, raising up your glowing box.

“No, I…don’t have one.” He gulped.

“Damn, how do you handle that? I could never live without Tumblr or Instagram.” You chuckled.

“...Yea, um…just not my thing, y’know?” He cleared his throat, trying his best to change the subject.

“Oh, yea. I’ve met some people like that. I envy y’all, y’know? Tumblr’s literally addicting to me. Can���t help it though, love when people comment nice stuff and see you as inspiring, y’know?” You chuckled, sitting down on his your bed.

“Uh…can’t really relate. I’ve always been pretty invisible.” He shrugged.

“Oh…you don’t seem so bad. I like the whole grungy vibe.” You grinned, pointing to his outfit.

“Oh- uh…thank you.” He hoped it was a good thing to be ‘grungy’...or whatever you said.

“Yea, looks good on you. Doesn’t really fit me tho.” You giggled.

“You’d look gorgeous in anything.” Was what Tate wanted to say, but he didn’t wanna push his luck too far, so he just forced a shy chuckle.

.⋆.‧⋆ ✧˚₊‧⋆. ✧˚₊‧⋆‧.⋆.

You spent something like 30 minutes just laughing and getting to know each other while laying on the bed. During this whole time, he couldn’t help but think about how breathtaking you were: your smile, your eyes, your body, your personality, your whole being. You were perfect. Perfect for him. He found himself to be completely mesmerized by you, he needed you to be his, he needed you to make him feel loved, alive. He wondered how you did it, how ever since the first second you spent next to him, his heart started beating for the first time since he died. His body felt warm, his skin didn’t feel so cold anymore, he started breathing again. He was addicted to this feeling, so he did the only reasonable thing he would’ve done if he was actually alive, he gently grabbed your cheek and pressed his lips against yours. Everything felt just better after he kissed you, as if after that whole hell he had been through he finally reached paradise. He felt even more surprised when you kissed back, your lips moving in sync with his. He moved to lay on top of you, balancing his weight so he didn’t crush you, his lips never leaving yours as his fingertips danced across your body. His tongue slipped in your mouth, swirling around yours in a passionate dance. He let out some deep throaty groans, he felt his desire grow as it coursed through his veins. He needed to feel you, so he deepened his kisses. When you moved your lips down on his jaw and then his neck, he almost lost it. He felt embarrassed for moaning so much and basically becoming a mess under your touch, but he relaxed as soon as he felt your lips curling up in a smile against his skin. He moved on to devour your neck, grinning as he felt you moan now. His hands gripped every inch of your body.

“You’re so…beautiful…” He mumbled against your skin, grabbing your breasts through the fabric of your shirt. He looked up at you while tugging at your shirt, silently asking for consent to peel it off of you.

“You can take off whatever you want...” You winked, giving him a cute smile. He immediately peeled off both his and your clothes, groaning at the sight of your body. His lips worked hungrily on your collarbone, leaving marks that will most likely turn into hickeys the next day, then placed kisses on the valley between your breasts, a tiny whine leaving him when his fingers failed at desperately trying to undo the clasp of your bra.

You giggled and helped him, throwing your bra somewhere on the floor. He immediately took one of your nipples in his mouth, suckling gently while looking up at you with those brown puppy eyes of his. You smiled and twirled a strand of his blonde locks between your fingers, soft moans escaping your lips. He kept switching between sucking your left then right nipple, his hand groping the one he wasn’t attacking with his mouth. He felt himself getting harder as he felt the warmth radiating from your body, so while his mouth worked wonders, he desperately brushed his growing bulge from under his boxers on your leg. He let out some needy whines, and he couldn’t help but mutter sweet words against your skin as he lowered down to trail kisses on your tummy.

“So perfect f’me…” His words came out muffled as he trailed his kisses down, pressing his lips against your inner thigh and then on the fabric of your panties. You moaned when his fingers hooked under the waistband of your underwear, slowly pulling it down, as his lips immediately worked on your clit.

“Ah…just like that Tate…don’t stop…” You moaned when he started to suckle gently, soft whines leaving his mouth as well. As he got more needy himself, his mouth lowered on your entrance, his tongue gently brushing against your wet folds, finally entering you after teasing you a slight bit. What you felt was pure bliss, unholy sounds leaving your lips every time his tongue sped up. When you looked down, you found Tate looking up at you with those brown doe eyes from between your legs, as he worked his magic. The sight only drove you to the edge, your moans getting louder as you came on his face. He groaned and cleaned you up with his tongue, making sure not to miss any single droplet of your cum.

“So good…you taste so fucking good…” He moaned into your ear, pressing wet kisses on your neck and collarbone.

“Wanna be inside of you…please? please let me…” He whined while rubbing his hard dick against your flesh. You nodded and just like that he didn't waste any more time, he abruptly pulled his boxer down, groaning as the cold air hit his shaft, and lined up with your entrance. While you were still coming down from your high after the intense orgasm, Tate pushed his dick inside of you slowly, moaning uncontrollably once he felt your tight walls clenching around him. You were relieved that this encounter happened when you threw a party, or every single soul nearby would’ve heard the throaty groans and moans leaving his lips.

“Mh…tight…so tight…so pretty-can I move please? I’ll be- ah…I’ll be careful-please-” He whined against your neck, as his blonde strands caressed your face gently. You agreed, and just like that he was thrusting in and out of you, first slowly, then at a steady pace. The room was filled with filthy moans, yours and his, and the repetitive sound of skin against skin, as your sweaty bodies were sliding one against each other. He felt like he was going insane as his mind couldn't help but focus on you and you only. Every moment was more pleasurable and he felt like he was closer and closer, so he muttered in your ear, still thrusting into you.

“Close…so close…don’t think i’m gonna last-ah…longer…please please please…want you to cum too…” He babbled as his brain turned into mush.

“Ah-! Mhm…m’close too…” You breathed out, feeling the knot in your stomach tighten even more.

“Please-mh…cum on my dick? yeah? wanna feel you..please…” He whimpered, he felt like he couldn’t contain his upcoming orgasm. You couldn’t even respond as the repetitive brushing of his tip against your G-spot drove you to the edge. Letting out a loud moan, you came for the second time while he was still inside of you. That caused Tate’s eyes to roll back, his groans only filling the room as the feeling of your cum dripping on his length and your walls squeezing it, was too much to bear. He quickly pulled out and came all over your stomach, then he collapsed next to you.

He spent the next moments cuddling up against you, thinking about everything. His hands were playing with your hair, and when he looked down he found your eyes closed and your breath steady. He smiled at the sight, wanting every night of his afterlife to end like this and determined to make that happen. He kept placing sweet kisses on the top of your head, while he wondered how he was gonna explain to you that he died before Tumblr even existed.

.⋆.‧⋆ ✧˚₊‧⋆. ✧˚₊‧⋆‧.⋆.

taglist: @cxndiedvi0lets @angeldollw @doll3tt33 @marchsfreakshow @fear-is-truth @dykejugheadjones @happy74827 @evpeters87 @dont-look-behind @brightanshiny

a/n: rahhhh tate's such a loser needy boy. BTW spent sm time on this fic, I'm pretty proud of how it turned out!! hope you like it! this is for my tumblr girlies🩷

all rights reserved!!

#Spotify #tate langdon #american horror story #ahs murder house #evan peters #ahs fandom #kyle spencer #violet harmon #james patrick march #kai anderson #taissa farmiga #ahs hotel #ahs asylum #ahs coven #ahs freakshow #2014 tumblr #smut #evan peters x reader #tate langdon x reader

[kiss-me-muchoo]

𝐇𝐮𝐦𝐦𝐢𝐧𝐠𝐛𝐢𝐫𝐝 || 𝐌𝐢𝐠𝐮𝐞𝐥 𝐎’𝐇𝐚𝐫𝐚 𝐱 𝐅𝐞𝐦!𝐫𝐞𝐚𝐝𝐞𝐫

𝐒𝐮𝐦𝐦𝐚𝐫𝐲_you’ve been lost for a day, and Miguel is worried. And it’s all because you’re not a science girl, thankfully your boyfriend is there to help you with your biochemistry class. 𝐖𝐚𝐫𝐧𝐢𝐧𝐠𝐬_age gap not specified (I’m 19, I can’t help it), idiot lovers, implied sex, fluff, Miguel best bf, civilian! shy! Insecure! reader, implied Mexican reader. 𝐀/𝐍_this is based on my favorite song of the movie, hummingbird. Listen to my playlist tho <3

♪ ♫ My Miguel O’Hara playlist. ✰ Index (+ fics here)

Hi, I might be busy, but leave a message. Love u…. *beep*

Miguel smiled, thinking the love u you had as a voicemail was only for him.

But soon he grew irritated. You hadn’t answered your phone for the whole day. You hadn’t even touched the device he had created for you to contact him through his gizmo.

“Why the sad face? Is it because your girl hasn’t answered?” Lyla asked appearing beside him. Miguel only eyed her.

“No.”

“Mmh… Even civilians have busy lives. Just because they aren’t spiders doesn't mean they don’t have responsibilities” the AI said trying to do a wise tone.

“I know, Lyla.” Huffed Miguel, clearly annoyed.

“Well. Then don’t worry, boss. Your girl is okay” You were smart, and Miguel knew you were fine. It only was strange, because you always answered.

“Oh, Peter and Gwen asked permission to come and see you” Once again, he rolled his eyes. Miguel could already hear a silly comment coming from Peter and Gwen cheering him.

“Tell them to be quick”

“On it, boss” With that Lyla disappeared.

Miguel could not wait to leave the HQ and call it a day.

…

By the time the sun was about to start fading, Miguel was able to finish a mission and report and leave everything ready for the next week. The HQ was okay and all the anomalies were safely contained.

He knew it would be easier to find you with his suit.

Most of the people in Nueva York lived in apartments, futuristic and minimalistic ones. Miguel lived in one of those. Until he met you.

Not so long ago, when an anomaly was causing chaos, he saved your life. An angry venom was about to devour you when he appeared.

He thought you were a kid. But later he learned it was your first year of college just when he was finishing his Ph.D...

Long short story, both fell in love at the very beginning of summer, but he waited.

He waited until turned twenty to be your boyfriend. Because your mother disapproved of him.

Your house was in a decent neighborhood. The street had these rectangular houses that were built upside down with long crystal windows and terraces as rooftops.

But you weren’t there.

Your window was open, but no signs of you.

“Damn it, where are you, y/n?” He mumbled, hanging from his bright web in your window.

Huffing, he activated his mask again and started balancing across the city.

He even thought about calling your father. As the man seemed to tolerate Miguel; offering beers and exchanging tastes in music at every gathering. But your boyfriend knew he didn’t have to worry.

Although Miguel didn’t possess a spider-sense, he knew you were not in danger.

And he almost missed to see your tiny silhouette.

He stopped on the balcony of an apartment complex.

The smell of coffee invades the whole avenue.

Your seating, alone. There’s a cup beside your laptop and a book is splayed. You seem very concentrated. Miguel thinks your furrowed brows and hand under your chin are cute.

Peace floods him after finding you.

Relief assaulted him when you started collecting your belongings. You thank the waitress and you leave, putting on your earphones, and carrying your big tote.

So he smirks.

You are humming one of your favorite songs, and finally, you finished all the modules of all your classes.

You can’t wait to go back home and call Miguel. You had missed him so much and-

“What the hell?” You yell as you are pulled towards an alley.

Miguel is there. Suit on, imposing height coming closer to you.

You cross your arms over the red shiny web around your waist.

“Oh look… You don’t own me from Lesley Gore started playing” you say with sarcasm, showing him your phone.

“You didn’t answer any of my calls” Deep down, you knew he was worried. And it made you feel guilty.

“I know, I’m sorry. I’ve been busy with school” Suddenly, Miguel remembered you had started a new college semester. And everything made sense.

“Tough course in specific?” He asked, his mask disappearing to your eyes, meeting his gorgeous face.

“Uh—, actually… yes”

“Why you doubted?” You blushed. And more embarrassed you felt.

“I was struggling and I didn’t want to ask for help. Especially to you” Miguel was confused. His web let you go, but he came closer to you. The way he was so tall and broad made you feel like a rag doll, always having to look all the way up to him.

“And why is that?”…”

“Silly me completely forgot the biology of drugs was biochemistry in disguise” Miguel laughed. He actually laughed and to that point, you were red like a beetroot.

“You’re so stubborn, muñeca” The music had stopped at that point. Putting your phone inside your bag was a good idea to avoid his deep gaze.

“What? I don’t want you to know how much of an idiot I am. I’m not a science girl and you know that…” Miguel stopped smiling.

You had said in the past that you were ashamed. Because you weren’t special like him. You were just a normal girl living a boring life. While he was Spider-Man, he was the leader of a whole group of people like him. He had a job besides that. Miguel was successful, and you were soon to become something. Yet, you were lost.

“We’ve talked about this, y/n. I’m not with you for pity or something. I just happened to fall in love with the most sweet and caring woman I met in the middle of chaos” he had mentioned his late daughter. The mother wasn’t in the picture. Miguel never knew who was his partner in that universe.

And yeah, on Earth-929, he had seen this woman named Dana, but it didn’t last. He never felt in love.

“I know, Miguel. I know that very well, bebé” You pull him closer to you, and immediately your lips welcome him. He closes his eyes and completely leans towards you.

After missing you the whole day, he melts in your lips, savoring each second his skin is on yours. Allowing himself to feel happy.

“I would still look like a bimbo if you ever tried to help me” he laughed, a long laugh, before venturing again into your soft lips.

“Then I’d look like a himbo if you introduced me to arts and literature” both of you giggle, hugging in the middle of a dirty alley.

“Your parents are out?”

“Yeah. They went to visit my abuelita for the weekend. She’ll come next week so I declined the trip to stay and learn about enzymes” Your man nodded.

“I’ll take you home. And I’ll stay with you these days” The news made you really happy. Miguel had stayed with you before. But most of the time it was just a single night. You barely visited his apartment.

“Wait till my parents find out” As you giggle, he rolls his eyes.

“We can keep it a secret”

“Oh, so romantic of you” Miguel feels like a puppy when you start smooching his cheeks. He said he would never grow a beard because he didn’t like it. You had said loved him however he decided to look, but honestly, you really loved his clear face.

“Just for you, mi vida” When you met him, he was this grumpy giant who hated physical contact. Now, he was still a grumpy giant but loved physical contact, just yours of course.

“Wanna go watch the sunset?” He asks holding your waist. You nod, you would never say no.

“Hold tight” his strong arm envelopes your hips, and you hug him so tightly. And the pressure of being lifted appears suddenly, startling you.

As Miguel starts balancing across the city, he notices your head buried in his neck, which makes him smile under the mask.

“This isn’t new, muñeca. You are missing the view” Slowly, you open your eyes, but you don’t dare to move your head, the wind obstructing your view, but across your stubborn hairs, you can see Nueva York.

The lights of the cars, every single highway, the sounds of news on big screens. But the most beautiful view is Miguel and you and his arms. Every skyscraper is a mirror for you and your boyfriend. You can see how small you look compared to him.

As you start approaching your neighborhood, you have to close your eyes again.

You can feel how hard he loves you by the way he holds you as if his life depends on it.

“I don’t like the way my stomach churns every time we do this” you admit on his ear.

“Good to know we are already here, bebé” Pink, purple, orange, and yellow make your eyes collapse as you encounter the most beautiful sunset you’ve ever seen.

Miguel lets you go. He lets you walk across the rooftop and appreciates you for some seconds.

“It’s beautiful…” you almost whisper, referring to the sky.

“It is…” but he means it about you.

You were his miracle. A safe miracle that came in the most unexpected moment.

“It’s a fruit punch sunset…” You’re worried because you hear Miguel laughing again, which is weird. You turn around to encounter him smiling at you.

“Really? A fruit punch?” You’re blushing again.

“Okay… It’s a summer sunset” he knows you’re annoyed. Because he laughed earlier and now again.

“I’m sorry, mi chiquita. It’s a fruit punch sunset” he admits hugging you from behind.

His soft hair brushes your temple, and his hands around your stomach make you put yours on top of him.

“I love so much” he whispers.

“I love you too, Miguel” Everything was all too well with you. And he intended to keep it that way.

…

Again, that little scrunch you tended to do once you were stressed or highly concentrated.

“Okay… so enzymes are?…”

“Proteins.” You answer shyly.

“Correct”

“And where does the substrate bind with the enzyme?” He is testing you, and you don’t like it. But it’s for your own good.

“The activate site?”

“Good girl” You send him a bad look and he just chuckles.

“See? You’re not dumb, mi amor. You’re very smart” You bump your head with his shoulder.

Both of you are in the kitchen, on the table actually. All of your books are displayed with notes and pens.

“I really want to be done with requisites” Miguel sighed.

“I had to take three English courses when I was in college, y/n. And believe me, I wasn’t the most brilliant. My essays used to have red marks all over” you giggle.

“I don’t think so, you’re a genius”

“Just because I developed this thing with Lyla doesn’t mean I am a genius,” he said pointing at the gizmo in his wrist.

“Oh, Lyla. I miss her” you admit.

It had been a couple of weeks since you visited the HQ for the last time.

“I can take you next week. Actually, I’m strongly thinking that I might need help with the reports” proving that you were very smart, Miguel remembered the system you developed for the spiders to accommodate the reports filled after an anomaly attack.

“Oh stop it, Jessica said it would be fine”

“Jess had actually stated that having you would be very helpful” It surprised you.

“Really?”

“Yeah. A lot of people like having you around the HQ. Peter’s kid especially”

“Mayday?” Miguel nodded. Remembering how fussy the baby got after hearing your voice in a voicemail you had sent to your boyfriend.

“She’s a newborn, Miguel”

“So? She’s like two months old. She already knows you” you shrug. Remember the time you met Peter and how he told you his wife and he wanted to have a kid. A couple of weeks later he broke the news and you had crocheted the baby’s first plushie. A pink little spider girl.

“I love Mayday but don’t use her to make me your assistant” Miguel kissed your nose.

“Why would I do that, mi vida?”

“Because you’re a cheeky asshole” breaking a record, Miguel was laughing again.

“Ay, corazón. No seas así”

“I’ll think about working more time at the HQ. Qué tal?” He nods.

“That would make me very happy”

“Nah, you just want to have me around like your rag doll” Miguel smirked, so you gently punched his chest.

“I’m not in the mood to keep learning about DNA, enzymes, and monosaccharides” you admit rolling your eyes and pushing your head back in the chair.

“Well, I’m in the mood to teach you anatomy now” Your eyes widen, and you start giggling.

“Fine. But not on the couch. Last weekend Mom was this close to finding my ripped panties under the pillows” Miguel couldn’t help but laugh at your index and thumb almost brushing.

“Don’t worry. I won’t throw away your panties. But for sure I’ll rip them apart”

“See? Cheeky asshole”

“I’m just being honest” You would never get tired of how serious Miguel sounded every time. Even when he was saying nasty things. It was in his nature to be sassy.

“Yeah, yeah. Now take me to bed and do what you’re good at” Carrying you in his arms, he hurried to take you to bed.

He gently placed you over the sheets. And before anything, he made sure to show how much he loved you. By kissing your lips like he always used to.

“Miguel?” You ask suddenly.

“Yes, preciosa?”

“I think I forgot everything about steroids… Oh no,” you want to face-palm yourself.

“It’s okay. I’ll make you remember everything, muñeca” As his kisses traveled through your jaw and neck, you relaxed. Finally, let the heat flow across your body.

“First thing, steroids help growth energy, metabolism, and reproduction, bonita” reproduction, naughty ideas start to cross your mind.

Like the morning your parents left to get some things for a gathering, and he had you sweating and crying under him on your floor carpet. But beyond that, you only have eyes for your Miguel. The only thing you seem to need in life.

Your strong and beautiful geneticist boyfriend.

You are unsure of how you ended up by his side. Dating the infamous Spider-Man, visiting the HQ of the Spider Society, and dealing with everything all together.

And he held you tightly the whole night.

Even when things would change in less than a year. With new piers joining, Miguel growing obsessed with keeping in harmony the spider-verse, grieving his past. And how he would traumatize a teenager in hopes of saving everything. Miguel would see you dying thanks to the spot, and the only way of preventing that was making you a spider too. The changes after that would be big. Even with all of that, both of you thought the same; you were in the correct pair of arms, and hopefully, you’d stay long. If not, forevermore.

____________

special mentions_ @freehentai

#miguel o'hara x reader #miguel o’hara imagine #atsv miguel #miguel o'hara #miguel o’hara x reader #miguel o’hara x y/n #spider man: across the spider verse #accross the spiderverse #spiderman atsv #atsv x reader #peter b parker x reader

[i-smoke-chapstick]

‘ANGEL,

-GOTHAM!VICTOR ZSASZ X READER-

⋆ 𝐒𝐘𝐍𝐎𝐏𝐒𝐈𝐒 ; He’s the sadist to your masochist, and he intends to prove it.

⋆ tags/warnings. GOTHAM!victor x female reader. SMUT. pure porn. second part to the “gotham characters eating you out” series. Obsessive victor. Sadist victor. Victor being cannonically a manwhore.

♫ “Love me, love me, love me, love me, love me, love me.” Angel by Massive Attack

It’s true what they say. You never see him coming, he just appears. Typically it would be used for violence, but no. He showed up at your apartment unannounced an hour ago, just in the shadows. You could still see the dried blood textured on his leather- fresh from the kill. He looked at you like he always had, gaze devoid of anything at all. But no, you’d known better. He was riled up.

The adrenaline from his kills always hit you the hardest and fastest. Typically because, in his words, it meant you were “getting laid” tonight. You didn’t mind, you enjoyed how he tapped his fingers against your window, a soft request to be let in.

After each kill and each scar cut into him, you were the first person he’d see. Allieviate all…underlying tensions still left in his body. When his blood was still pumping from a victims screams, and his cock throbbed hard with the adrenaline of the chase.

You’d known from the begginning something was different about tonight, though. No quick quips, or light conversation before he fucked you. Hell, he’d even sometimes play sudoku on your phone beforehand. But there was no restraining him today. He was fired up.

Which is why, for the past hour, he’s been inbetween your legs, not letting you cum until you say it.

What is it, exactly? You don’t know.

He’s been teasing you all night, tongue pulling away from your folds at even the slightest spasm. You’d already tried begging, and he gave you a sympathetic frown.

“Wrong answer babe…” He trails off, letting your high come down, before his mouth is on you again. His tongue swirls roughly around your clit, and you struggle not to shudder.

A cold, gloved hand holds your thigh up. The other one is thrown over his shoulder. Every now and again he’ll look up at you, smirk on his face. You want to kill him.

His movements against your clit are calculated- flicking gently. Damn him and his expirence. A ladies man. You almost feel jealous- before the feeling of his hands digging into your thigh brings you back to him.

“Ah ah ah.” He tsks, in between rough and gentle kitten licks against your cunt. “Come back to me.” His hand only leaves your thigh to gently snap at you. To bring you back out of your pleasure and running thoughts. He wants every last drop of your attention.

You let out a soft whine, not willing to give in.

“All you have to do…” His tongue dips into your center, and you involuntarily clench up. He keeps his eye contact on you, before departing once more. “Is say it, sweetheart.” You hear the smirk in his voice.

“Say what?” You breathe wildly, desperate to cum. He gives you one more lick, before he pulls out a switchblade from the inside of his suit. Your eyes widen.

He doesn’t answer you, only returns to teasing, this time with a blade in hand. He licks a long stripe from your clit, up and down your thigh, where he places the knife against the delicate plush of your skin. You want to tell him to stop, but you don’t, and so he doesn’t.

The gloved hand drags the knife down only a few inches, and you yelp. A red mark is stuck into your skin. A tally mark on your thigh. He gently sighs, open mouthed at the mark, before swiftly putting the switch blade back in its place.

“Say it.” It comes out as more of a growl this time, as his movements suddenly transform. The soft licks are gone, replaced with the entirety of his lips, eagerly kissing and sucking and licking at the tender flesh.

Between the harsh stinging pain on your thigh and the pleasure of him in between your legs, you feel your orgasm begin again. You search your mind for what he could possibly want from you- you’d already begged please before. Already said his name. Already praised him and proclaimed your devotion a million times over just tonight.

His movements only quicken against the wetness of your slit, and he runs his hands up against the cut in your thigh. You gasp and moan in pain as his fingers dig into the cut, orgasm and burning pain piling up on one another in pure bliss. You feel the tears in your eyes sting, and the build up of release rapidly increasing.

You say the only words left, the only words you know for sure have gone unsaid.

He looks so pretty like this, even with your blood on his hands and your slick around his lips.

“I love you,” You damn near scream, you plead. You need to cum.

And he finally lets you.

At those words, a loud growl rips through him, pain reaching a peak as he plays with the cut on your thigh and expertly devours you. He manhandles your body even closer than what you thought possible, shoving his face into your pussy like a man starved.

He rides you through your orgasm, licking and looking at you. Your chest heaves under him, and your sure the sheets are red from the blood in your thigh.

When he finally parts, he lifts himself over you- so he’s face to face.

He’s a touch too composed for your liking, and he hovers over you. His face blank.

You two lay in scilence, and you feel the burning pain in your thigh more and more as the aftershocks from your orgasm subside.

In a quick movement, he kisses your nose in a quick peck.

“I love you too.” He grins like a school girl- before flopping over next to you as if nothing had happened. “Thats all I wanted to hear,” He shrugs, eyeing the ceiling with his head propped on his hands behind his head.

His smile is the biggest you’ve ever seen.

#x reader #gotham #gotham x reader #victor zsasz headcanons #gotham imagine #gotham smut #x reader smut #smut #gotham villains smut #gotham villains x reader #gotham victor zsasz #victor zsasz gotham #victor zsasz x reader #victor zsasz #victor zsasz x reader smut #gotham imagines #gotham preferences #batman rouges gallery #batman #batman rogues #batman rogues smut

[ivory0]

# betty

♫ You heard the rumors from Inez You can't believe a word she says Most times, but this time it was true ♪ plot : A figment of Mile's worst intentions.

1 → 2 ( coming soon )

"Are you really sure about this?" Gwen Asked Mile's in a soft and crisp voice looking hesitant of herself when she thought of you.

It was summer, august to be exact. Mile's was on summer break as his school year had ended. Mile's hand traveled from Gwen's hips to her waist as he held her close to him.

"Yeah.. We weren't really serious about the whole thing.." Mile's breathed out slowly as his voice was pushed to a little whisper.

Before the could get any closer, Gwen's dimensional travel watch flickered, indicating another call from another dimension as Gwen sighed.

"See you soon.. Spider-man..?" Gwen asked with a light giggle at the end of her sentence as Mile's lips curved up into a grin. "Yeah." Soon enough, Gwen had sneaked out of Mile's bedroom through his window as Miles sighed.

Time went by as Miles laid on his bed, scrolling through his phone until his fingers clicked on Spotify. As he scrolled through his playlists, one playlist stood out to him the most, the one you had made just for him as his mind forced him to think about the infidelity he was participating in as his mind geared to a few memories.

"Do you think this would look good on me, Miles?" You asked as you put swatches of a dark lipstick on your skin, thinking deeply about your choice as your eyebrows scrunched up.

Miles noticed how concentrated you were in your thoughts before he squished on of your cheeks with his free hand, the other holding your shopping bags as he chuckled.

"You know my answer already, Ma." Miles said with a grin. "Anything and everything looks good when you wear it."

You playfully hit him with a smile creeping up on your face due to his words. "Don't play 'round with me too much, Morales."

Then she showed up, Gwen stacy. Mile's soon-to-be dilemma. They clicked instantly, I mean- who else could you talk to about this kind of top secretive spider stuff to? Each other right?

Gwen is one of the only people who actually know about Mile's true identity, one could even say that she practically knew everything.

But she didn't really do anything to personally help Miles whenever he was actually going through something. Or at least she didn't patch him up like you did.

That's right, You snuck him a literal eraser including a math's formula during a test because he didn't know there was gonna be a test.

You silently patched him up whenever he was injured from his duties as spider-man, not asking him questions about how he received them as he asked you to stop worrying, you did.

You waited patiently for him to open up to you, not wanting to make him feel pressured but will he ever tell you what was actually going on?

At first, You were oblivious to the summer affair Miles had going on, chasing two girls at the same time. You and your friends were on facetime talking about anything until suddenly one of your friends mentioned a certain rumour about Miles, Mostly about his affair as you slowly connected the dots from his unresponsive and strange but nervous behavior towards you to many more antics.

Usually you didn't believe in the rumours you heard from this particular friend but you had a feeling- No, knew that this time, it was true.

Summer had passed by as it was time for a new school year, Miles's face was currently in a merged expression of surprise and bewilderment as he stared at Ganke. "She changed her homeroom?" Miles finally asked as his voice sounded surprised and disappointed.

#miles morales x reader #miles morales #across the spiderverse #into the spider verse #spiderverse x reader #spiderverse

[hawaiifiveoh]

sightline | steve mcgarrett

masterlist

Saying no to helping 5-0 was to avoid trouble-- it didn’t work. But in this case, a certain Lt. Commander’s stubbornness helps you out.

steve mcgarrett x reader (eventually)

Author’s note: Figuring out this series idea, but hey here’s part one!

2k words | ♫ Playlist: head cold - spacey jane, cracks in the pavement - mini trees

____________________________

They didn’t say who they were but their demeanor and appearance screamed Feds. There was no clock, but you knew it had been hours. You wanted to get out of this stuffy room with no windows, the resultant pain from when these two goons kidnapped you not yet forming an ache. They wouldn’t give up, the accusations based on lies barreling out of their mouths, ricocheting all over the room. Fighting them, it was miserable and tiring. Whatever the threats, you still weren’t going to help. Especially now. The one with the squash shaped head really didn’t like it when you told them off, you figured he was the worse of the two, a power hungry, perceived air of superiority type, and you were right. You taunted the line, because what else could you do when they refused to listen. You were stuck. No one knew you were here. And, they weren’t going to let you go, you had no facts for a plan beyond that.

Suddenly, there were three loud bangs on the door, which could be classified as aggressive knocks from a person who ignored the gord’s harsh bellow that they were “busy in here”. The other guy made the mistake of going to investigate. There were a few more noises that sounded like large masses hitting walls outside the room, then silence. The door gently swung open like before except instead of the agent returning, there was a gun pointed at the man who was standing across from where you sat.

Your fear stopped rising in your throat when you recognized who was behind the trigger, the McGarrett guy from 5-0. Not that your first meeting with him and his partner went well, you had blown them off after refusing to answer their questions or help. Your overall dehydration wasn’t helping the general confusion in your mind at what was unfolding. The agent with the voice like cigarette smoke became more irritating, fuming at the person who had now ruined his interrogation,

“Christ, what’s your problem?! Drop your weapon and you just might make it out of here alive!”

Steve scoffed, voice deadly calm, “Release her, and you just might.”

“Oh, McGarrett,” the agent said so sadly with a tsk, extremely naive to think he had an effect on the man beside him, “You were already told we took over the case. Now you’re pulling this, right now? I don’t know how–”

“Did you hear what I said? Remove the handcuffs.” Steve interrupted, an indignation building between every syllable. You saw the commander take another quick all encompassing glance at you, gaining details of the current situation and worn out look etched into your face. He readjusted his grip, arm steady and far enough out of reach that he could still get a shot at the other guy though his sightline had shifted back to you again, “You okay?”

The guy didn’t budge, his internal power struggle faltering with Steve’s inconvenience but not giving in, “She’s fine, she’s in our custody and you–”

But the agent didn’t get to finish his empty threat in words or the reach of his gun, because Steve already knew and was just waiting for an excuse to considerately shoot the guy in the shoulder. The unexpected gunshot rang out and through your skull. Even Mr. Fed didn’t expect Steve’s reaction, so he stumbled enough in surprise, embarrassment, and actual pain long enough for McGarrett to get a hold of him, pushing him to the wall, “Now, we can try another at an even closer range or you can let her go.”

The jerk didn’t back down, blubbering about jurisdictions and 5-0 being done for. Though McGarrett was tempted, he heard Danny’s voice of reason echo in his mind, and instead of shooting the guy again, he merely incapacitated him with a nice sleeper maneuver.

Steve’s hand on your shoulder and adamancy close by was momentum to guide you forward, unwalked legs weakened and overwhelmed with the situation. You waltzed through the frozen federal office as if you two became Moses parting the red sea or a witch the town feared would put a hex on them. All the bland suits and shirts moved out of the way and didn’t dare look at the commander or you, not wanting to know the context to what interrupted their late afternoon. They actively ignored the low groans of pain and irritation floating out the office hallway where you emerged from. McGarrett’s silence and rigid profile was a clear warning that he’d likely rip out anyone’s eyes if they made the wrong move. The only thing he said was,

“Your colleagues require some medical attention.”

By the time you reached Steve’s blue truck outside, his adrenaline was still coursing through every muscle with no place for it to go, except to surrounding physical objects. He had stomped around to the passenger side and yanked open the door– his stare an order. You stood there, fighting it, him guessing you would.

“Where are we going? What happened back there–”

“Get in. I don’t wanna spend another second near this building.”

You sighed, as he waited, hitching up one side of stupid cargo pants that sagged because of the holster. He leaned against the open door, like some Rambo chauffeur. The sun was radiating on the concrete and asphalt, the bright light and smells of outside assaulting your previously quarantined self. Your throat was dry and stomach empty. You didn’t want to stand out here as you wiped the sweat away from your brow. You had no other option right now, or way to get home.

The truck door soon slammed shut, fenced in now, as you worked over the whole situation in your mind, like modeling clay. McGarrett’s energy was extreme enough that it preceded him in three dimensional space, an invisible shock wave. The beastly Silverado’s engine became alive and he started driving. You turned to look over at him, and even though he had this casual one arm stance on the steering wheel, the adrenaline wasn’t evened out fully. Your head was hurting, you brushed your matted hair away from your face, and felt the blood forming pools in the cuts again. As if Steve already knew, he was pulling over onto Ala Moana Park Drive. He was always a step ahead it seemed, and you still had no idea how he found you or why he did everything he just did.

“That bleeding needs to be stopped. There’s wipes and butterfly bandages in the glove box.”

You lifted the lever to open the compartment in front of your knees, and it surprised you at how much stuff Steve had actually managed to fit into this small space. You dug around… discovering snack bars, flashlights, ammunition, mumbling out loud about the inventory and how none of it were band-aids in this mess.

“A grenade?” You asked out loud, “Really?”

“Already came in handy once.”

You knew he wasn’t joking even though you rolled your eyes. Steve McGarrett was his own breed, and he truly got away with a lot. You were understanding why, because if this had been someone else you would’ve been running from the car right now. But when you thought of those stories of how animals randomly protected humans in the wild from danger, or accepted them as a part of their own, it made better sense.

Steve’s impatience won over, as he leaned over the center console and took over searching for what you hadn’t found yet in the apparent portal of survival and military surplus items.

“Here,” he gestured obviously, holding them up for you to see before dropping them into your hands in your lap.

“How did you know where I was?”

“Your boss said you weren’t working today. After you weren’t home, and I saw the mess inside–”

“You broke into– ah–” you paused, the sting as you cleaned your face suspending your thought, “My house?” 

“I didn’t break in, technically. It was a welfare check. We caught some federal plates loitering on some video footage near your rental. So, I sort of went off of a hunch.”

Steve smiled at the fact he proved to himself he was right, before changing the subject, “You have to pull the edge taunt for the bandage to work properly.”

“Working on it, Commander, ” you remarked, then it didn’t work right for a second time, the thing half falling off pathetically as you let out a growl of an exhale. Suddenly you were embarrassed at failing, his presence instantly placing a big weight on your shoulders in this smaller space.

“Let me help you.”

And, before you could argue against it, McGarrett was out, dashing around the front of the truck, opening your door. He stood outside the truck, tending to you, like he was reliving some severely watered down triage moment of his past. His stare was intense, he was too intense. It was like a catch-22, the full attention and concern was so fresh and different, but you worried what he’d uncover and keep in his mind about you. The instructions he gave as you assisted were surprisingly gentle from his lips, as were his fingers as they pressed the gauze and final bandages’ adhesive against your cheekbone and forehead.

“There,” you heard the deep tonality of the word close like a heartbeat, but everything was so far away, an island way off in the distance. You were stuck in a sea of your thoughts, you blinked, sheepishly cutting short your deluded analysis of how many colours were in his eyes.

“Thanks, and thanks for before. I didn’t know how I was going to get out of there.”

He nodded his head sincerely at the receipt of your words, “I’m sure you would’ve thought of something.”

“Yeah, well, all I had was what I already tried at my place, and look what I got,” you pointed at your face, as you puffed out a weak chuckle. Steve didn’t laugh, he only clenched his teeth for a second, trying to forget by the time he got back into the driver’s seat.

McGarrett sighed loudly, putting on his seat belt. He glanced at you again. You turned to him, correctly reading the pause and fretted hesitancy barely in his face.

“I’m okay,” you nodded genuinely.

Then he did too, and started up the truck again.

“You hungry? I know a place.”

“Yeah, but will your offer still stand when I say I still won’t help with your case, despite your valiant yet appreciated efforts today.”

Steve made a face at you, overtly and purposefully offended, like this stone age man could truly be offended, “You think all of this, is just me buttering you up for case help, to get my way? Come on, I just can’t be a good guy?”

“Well, why were you trying to get a hold of me this morning?”

McGarrett cleared his throat, gripping the wheel tighter as he tilted his head, “It was for the case but,” he faced you and held up his index finger, to continue his rebuttal, “It’s not like I expect anything after what happened, alright? They had no reason to do what they did. The evidence said you were trouble and it’s my job to follow up on that.”

“Oh, not just because you're a good guy?”

“Well, that too,” he said, unable to hold back a smirk, one much too goofy for a guy with grenades in his vehicle, “At least let me get you an, obligation-free, shave ice before I drop you off. I know those jackasses didn’t give you anything to drink either. What do you say, huh?”

Steve grinned to himself when you agreed. You just knew it was because he thought he was that much closer to getting his way. Even rationalizing that self-interested motive about him, though, didn’t help. You couldn’t stop sneaking glances to check if that smile was still hanging onto his lips as he drove.

#steve mcgarrett x reader #steve mcgarrett imagine #steve mcgarrett #h50 #hawaii five-0 #steve mcgarrett fanfiction #steve mcgarrett x y/n

[syddsatyrn]

Love, Metal and Milkshakes Ch.4 (EddiexFemReader)

☆Pairing: - Eddie Munson x Fem Reader

☆Song: Still of the Night - White Snake

☆Warnings: Fluff, smut, swearing, drug use, cigarettes, protected sex. Characters are all 18+

Minors DNI, scram!

☆Words: 3.1k

☆Notes: I'm sorry this took so long guyyyys. I've been busy with commissions, work and many other projects you'll see in the future. Series Master List For the next few days, you felt like you were floating. Nothing could put you in a bad mood, not even your mom's excessive questions about Eddie. You were able to unpack the majority of your things. You decorate your room to fit your aesthetic while the reverberation of heavy guitar and bass flow through the speakers of your cassette player in the background. The walls are covered in band posters, and you added some white Christmas lights to the wall closest to your bed. You filled your closet with all your black clothes and organized them neatly.

While you did some laundry, you had time to repaint your fingernails and toes black. You carefully applied the black nail polish, focusing on each digit, utilizing the small brush to cover each corner.  

You lay back and stare at the ceiling, trying to practice patience while your nails dry. The first thought that pops into your head is how much you missed that dorky metal head. You'd much rather be curled up against his chest watching a movie. Or cuddled up in the back of his van somewhere quiet. 

You've never had feelings for someone so quickly. It actually makes you feel kind of nauseous thinking about it. 

You confirm the polish has dried and opened the window. You reach over to your nightstand and pull a cigarette from the box. You carefully lean your torso out the window and light the stick between your lips. The smoke plumes from your mouth as you exhale. You rest your chin on your forearm and sigh. The previous song ends and changes to the next. 

♫"In the still of the night I hear the wolf howl, honey Sniffing around your door In the still of the night I feel my heart beating heavy Telling me I gotta have more In the shadow of night I see the full moon rise Telling me what's in store My heart start aching, my body started shaking And I can't take no more No, no, no Now I just want to get close to you And taste your love so sweet And I just want to make love to you Feel your body heat In the still of the night In the still of the night Over here baby"♫

The sky is cloudless, with an orange and purple hues. The afternoon sky is always such a vibe. You puff on your cigarette, arm hanging out the window. Your mind wanders back to that classroom where both of you confessed a lot of feelings...physically. You feel your face get a little hot. Maybe it’s just the direct sunlight. 

The phone rings loudly, it shakes you from your thoughts. You stub out the cigarette out on the coarse roof shingles and quickly shut the window.

"Y/N Pick up the phone!" Your mom shouts up the stairs. You practically sprinted to the phone in the hallway, your socks sliding on the linoleum as you picked up the receiver.

"Hello?" You answer quietly, dragging the phone to your room. 

"Whatcha doin' right now?" Eddie asks. 

You giggle, "Unpacking, cleaning, laundry..." You begin to list off all the productive things you've accomplished but Eddie cuts you off.

"Are you wearing pants?" he asks in a coquettish tone, only half joking.

"Pfff...and what if I'm not?" You scoff at his question.  

"Come over to my place? We can watch a movie and get stoned with me. I'll order a pizza." He says trying to cast out a line, hoping you'll take the bait. Who turns down free food and weed? 

"You don't have to bribe me to hang out, Eddie." You say with a chuckle.

"No bribes, I just wanna see you," Eddie says, his voice is like honey. You practically melt into a puddle on the floor. 

"I uh...can be there in a couple of hours?"

You grab a pen on your nightstand and Eddie proceeds to give you directions to the Forest Hills Trailer Park. 

"See you soon, Milkshake." Eddie says and hangs up.

You're never gonna live down that nickname. But it's starting to grow on you. If it wasn't for that fateful day when you ended up covered in an airborne milkshake you would've never met such a kind soul. You get dressed and pack up your backpack with some essentials. 

You quickly laced up your boots and grabbed your skateboard. You take off after going through the monotonous routine of telling your mom where you'll be and reassuring her you'll be fine. You slid a pair of headphones over your ears and hopped on your board. You could have asked Eddie to pick you up, but it's so nice outside and you've grown fond of the crisp fresh air in Hawkins. 

When you see the sign for the trailer park, you hop off your skateboard and carry it by the trucks. You make your way up the dirt path and spot Eddie's trailer with his van parked out front. You take a deep breath as you walk up to the front porch and climb the steps. You knock on the door and swallow your nerves. 

You can hear muffled metal music playing behind the door and a pair of heavy footsteps coming down the hallway. Eddie opens the door and you smile. He’s wearing a Dio shirt with the sleeves cut off paired with his black jeans.  Before you can even say hello his lips met yours. You swear your heart was going to beat through your chest. Eddie’s hand brushes a few strands of hair away from your face and cups your cheek. His touch sends a shiver down your spine as you quietly whine into his mouth. Your face glows red and your muscles tense up. 

"Missed you." He whispers against your lips. You were at a loss for words, and Eddie takes great pleasure in catching you off guard. He loves watching you stammer and lose control of yourself.  

"I…uh m-missed you too." You faltered as he laced his fingers with yours. He pulls you inside the trailer and shuts the door. 

Eddie’s place looks relatively normal. There's an impressive collection of mugs in the kitchen and caps lining the wall above the main window. The smell of weed and Eddie's cologne already has you feeling hazy. He leads you down the hall to his room. Surprisingly his place feels rather comfortable, even though you've never been here before. Eddie leads you to his room and you take in the little details. Black Sabbath plays softly in the background through his cassette player, his warlock guitar hangs from the mirror on top of his dresser. Eddie’s room is lined with band posters and artwork, just like yours. His space was a little messy, more disorganized than anything. The metal head picks up an already lit cigarette out of the ashtray and places it between his lips. “Make yourself at home, sweetheart.”

You take a seat on his bed and drop your bag to the floor. Eddie sits next to you. You lean your head on his shoulder and he kisses the top of your head. His arm wraps around you and pulls you just a bit closer. Eddie puts out his cigarette in the ashtray on his bedside table. "I like your room, it's cozy." You remark while still looking around. You turn your head and see a pair of handcuffs hanging from the closet door knob. 

"What exactly are those for?" You giggle and point to the cuffs.

"Maybe one day you'll find out." He says with a low voice that makes your legs squeeze together. Eddie quickly changes the subject. He doesn't want to scare you off. "I rented a couple of movies. I know you like the horror genre so I ended up getting Day of the Dead and Invaders from Mars."

"Both sound good." You say and slip your hand over his knee. He pulls a pre-rolled joint from the drawer and lights it. He takes a couple of puffs and hands them to you. You place the joint between your lips and inhale the thick earthy smoke. Your previous dealer never had stuff this good. He also refused to give you any deals or help you out because you turned him down for a date.

"I gotta admit, Munson. This is some good shit…" You comment and take another puff. “...I could get used to having a cute boy deliver my weed.”

“Only the best for my favorite.” Eddie chuckles. “I know this guy, Reefer Rick...He’s something else. But he hooks me up pretty often.” He explains and you burst out laughing.

“Reefer Rick? You’re kidding me. That's his name? Hilarious.” You giggle, Eddie is just happy he can make you laugh. He wants to hear that laugh as often as possible. He wants to be the one to make you smile all the time. He wants to be the one to make you do other things too…

When you hand the joint back, Eddie inhales as much of the thick smoke as he can. He leans in close, lips almost touching yours. Eddie cups your chin and slowly exhales. You've seen this done before but you've never actually done it yourself. You purse your lips and inhale, the smoke traveling from his lips to yours, from his lungs into yours. 

When you both exhale you close the gap and kiss him intensely. He tucks some of your hair behind your ear. Being vulnerable isn’t easy for you, fortunately, Eddie could see right through your tough exterior. He sees the soft, squishy emotions underneath it all.   

You decide to straddle his lap, sick of the distance between you both. He places his hand on the small of your back to steady you as you wrap your arms around his neck.

“What are you thinkin’ about?” You ask playfully.

“You. Always you. You’re like a virus or something.” He teases, his voice softens. “I think about you constantly and it’s intoxicating.” Eddie has been holding back his desire to ravage you and make you his. Last time wasn't enough, you both wanted more, but a high school classroom wasn't the ideal location. 

You couldn't handle the tension any longer and something in you snapped like a distressed rubber band. Your lips enveloped his but this time it was different, you nipped his bottom lip, and Eddie's hand slipped under your shirt and up your spine. You part your lips and allow him entrance to your mouth.

Eddie was losing his cool. He couldn't handle how soft your skin is and how your bodies fit so perfectly together. He pulls away for oxygen and places sloppy kisses down from your jaw to your neck. You tug on his shirt and he lifts his arms in the air allowing you to remove it. His hand unclasped your bra and you both struggled to remove your top. You toss the clothes carelessly into an unknown corner of the room. 

"Mmm, I think I'm in love." He comments while cupping your breasts and giving them a gentle squeeze. You roll your eyes and gently push him. Eddie lays back flat on the mattress with you still straddling his waist. You leave little bite marks and bruises down his neck to his collarbone. You could feel his cock harden and twitch under you. Just a couple of layers of denim prevent you from pure bliss. 

"Fuck, Y/N, you're killing me," Eddie says with a quiet moan. He rolls you over onto your back and you yelp. His hands find the button of your shorts between sloppy kisses. Eddie gets up off the bed and tugs your shorts and panties down to your ankles. You kick them off and Eddie is struck silent by your nude frame laying in his bed. 

"I have a present for you. But you gotta promise to be a good girl okay?" He asks and you nod. The phrase made you squirm a little. Eddie kneels down in front of the bed and parts your knees. He begins kissing your inner thigh keeping his eyes fixed on yours, waiting for you to protest. 

You didn't, Eddie swiped his finger through your slit gently, feeling the slick wetness between his fingers. "Tell me if you want me to stop at any point okay?" He asks, making sure this is what you really want to do. You nod again and Eddie wastes no time and slips his tongue between your folds and moans at the taste. 

You throw your head back and let out a breathy moan. Your fingers grip the sheets and your back arches. Eddie's tongue flicks and massages your most sensitive spot as he squeezes your hips. He adds more pressure and speed as the seconds go by. You can't suppress the whines that escape your throat. When Eddie adds two fingers, you cry out, "Please don't stop" in between heaving breaths, "m'gonna cum".

"I’ve gotchu pretty girl, don’t worry.” His words were dripping with desire. 

Your fingers card through Eddie's hair as you hold his head, your thighs lock tighter around his head as you moan his name. Your body trembles and he licks you through your high and you slowly turn into a puddle just for him. When Eddie raises his head between your thighs he wipes his chin.

"Mhmm…that's my girl." He praises while littering your shaking thighs with kisses. "You are so so pretty…" He whispers against your skin.

"Do you have a…uh." You stuttered, words getting the best of you. Eddie is surprised, he wasn't sure how far you wanted to take this. 

"Condom? Yes." He answers. Eddie walks over to his dresser and pulls out a condom from his top drawer. Your blood is pumping hard and your face feels hot. Eddie tears the foil and drops his pants, his cock springs free and he slides the condom down his length. 

He climbs back on top of you and you wrap your arms around his neck. "You want more?" 

"Yes, please." You plead, and Eddie smirks and cocks his head to the side.

"So polite. This is a side of you I haven't seen yet. Your wish is my command, sweetheart." He says teasingly. The head of his cock presses against your entrance. He slid in rather easily and bottomed out and you groaned into his shoulder. He sets a steady pace and watches you unravel beneath him. You can feel him in your stomach, Eddie’s name and various swears escape your lips.

“That's it, you’re doing so well, lovely. Mmm…My name sounds so much better when you scream it.” He says in a low, gravelly voice. He continues to hit that one spot deep in your core.

“Fuck…Eddie…faster please.” You begged followed by another sinful moan. Your release is building, starting with a coil in your stomach and stiff muscles. Eddie’s mouth ghosts down your neck until he rests his chin on your shoulder. He isn’t far behind you, he feels you clench around him and can't contain himself any longer.

You dissolve into pleasure, chanting your boyfriend's name and squeezing him tight. Your back arches and you dig your fingernails into his shoulders.

“Fuuuckk…” Eddie groans and he spills inside of you, he continues to slowly fuck into your slack body. You ride that high as Eddie presses sweet kisses all over your shoulder and collarbone. He pulls out of you slowly and discards the condom in a small trash can nearby. Eventually your breathing goes back to normal, but you're exhausted. Eddie cant seem to find your shirt so he just tosses you one of his. You like his stuff better anyways.

Eddie replaces his boxers and throws on a shirt. You found your shorts somehow kicked under his bed. You pull them up over your hips as promptly envelops you in his arms. He whispers sweet praises in your ear which make you blush and giggle.

“So good for me…”

“You’re so hot. I am so lucky.”

“My good girl…”

He just sits and holds you there for a moment, one pressing the small of your back, the other on the back of your head. Stuff like this is the reason why you know he's not just using you for sex. Eddie is too soft to you, like he's afraid to break you if he's too rough. He takes your hand and offers you a cigarette, you happily pull one from the pack and place it between your lips.

“I'm gonna order Pizza, I’ll be outside in a few. There’s a lighter on the railing out there.” You walk down the hall and out the front door. The late evening set in and the sky was getting dark. You could see speckled stars across the sky, the air was crisp and cool. You light your cigarette and lean against the railing. It's getting kind of late, you seem to have lost track of time. 

You're at that point in the evening where you need to decide if you want to go home or ask to stay with Eddie.

Speak of the devil, he pops open the door and joins you outside. Eddie wraps his arms around your shoulders from behind and you hand him your cigarette. 

"Mhhm…so hear me out." He says while nuzzling into the crook of your neck. "What if you just stayed here? With me?"

"I was actually just about to ask you." You chuckle. Your mother isn't going to be too happy but you'll pay any price as long as you wake up to that face. "Can I?" You ask sweetly.

"Mhm…Be my guest." He says, punctuating his sentence with a peck on your cheek. He puts out the cigarette and you both head back inside. You called your mother and she wasn't thrilled. 

"Just…be careful and use protection for god sakes." She harps. "Please call me if I need to come get you."

"Mooommm, I'll be fine. I'm hanging up now. Love you, bye." You hang up quickly and sigh. Eddie hands you a pair of his sweatpants. The evening went as planned, after eating you were exhausted. You fell asleep halfway through "Invaders from Mars" while curled up in Eddie's arms.

Eventually Eddie convinces you to come to bed with him. You reluctantly follow him and crawl under his covers. Everything smells like him, your clothes, the pillows. It makes you feel safe and relaxed, or is that just the marijuana lingering in your brain?

Eddie finally slides under the covers with you and wraps his body around yours. He cards his fingers through your hair and leaves a kiss on your temple.

"Good night, sweetheart."

#Spotify #eddie x reader #eddie fanfic #eddie munson #eddie munson fanfic #eddie munson x reader fluff #eddie munson x reader #eddie x y/n #eddie x you #stranger things eddie #reader x eddie munson #eddie munson x y/n #eddie munson x you #eddie munson x female reader #eddie munson x fem reader #eddie munson fic #eddie munson fanfiction #eddie munson concept #eddie munson my beloved #eddie munson stranger things #eddie the freak munson

[sapphireginger]

Title: Mama’s Song

Pairings: Gen

Word Count: 1,193

Warnings: None

Square Filled: Bucky Barnes

@sebastianstanbingo

Summary: 

“Sleep, mama.”

Sarah hummed softly, her eyes fluttering shut. “Would you sing for me, my shooting star?”

With a thick swallow, his throat clicking with emotion, Steve inhaled sharply. “Sure, mama. What song?”

“My song, please?”

The winter he turned eight, had been long and bleak. Steve was disappointed that he didn’t get to see Bucky as much as he usually did. It was okay though, because he was needed at home. He blew into his hands, rubbing them together to rid the chill as best he could. Then he wrapped his coat tighter around him and tucked his feet under the small blanket he always had with him. Steve used to think it made him weak or something to carry it around, but Bucky said no one is weak for needing comfort. It was something Steve needed to hear, and his best friend knew that. With a sigh, his eyes flickered over the seemingly endless sea of white. He really missed his best friend.

At the sound of a cough, he turned away from the window and moved over toward the bed. Little hands tucked the quilt tighter around his mama, not wanting her to get cold.

Two years ago, his mama had gotten sick and a year ago, she was bedridden. His papa, Joseph, said he was going out hunting and just never came back. It was fine and while Steve was upset at his papa leaving him, he knew he could look after his mama. Being man of the house at the age of six had been hard but now at the age of eight, he had everything down pat.

Another cough brought him out of his thoughts, his blue eyes settling on his mama. “Mama?” he whispered.

Her eyes fluttered open, slowly, and it took a lot out of her to do so. “Hello, my shooting star.” Her voice was hoarse, and he quickly helped her drink some water. “How is Bucky? Did Joseph come back with dinner?”

That was another thing that made Steve’s heart ache. His mama was losing her memory. The books in their small little nook didn't help him get any answers and when the doctor was able to come last fall, he had no idea why she was forgetting things.

Still, Steve put on a brave face and spoke softly. “Bucky went on a trip with his family, mama. He’ll come see me at the end of winter.” He wanted to stop there but as she always did, his mama asked again about Joseph. Steve stopped calling him dad the moment he abandoned them.

“He left us, mama.” He kept his voice gentle and watched her closely. He had learned quickly that she never took it well. “He’s been gone for over a year.”

Her face shuttered and she turned her head to look out the window. “I’m tired, Stevie.”

Steve nodded and stood up. He placed a kiss on her forehead and checked once more to be sure she was warm, comfortable and tucked the quilt tighter around her. It was something he did multiple times a day. He may have been able to do the cleaning, cooking and mending but repair was harder. The snow had been too thick and deep for him to wade out and fix a small loose board in the roof.

“Sleep, mama.”

Sarah hummed softly, her eyes fluttering shut. “Would you sing for me, my shooting star?”

With a thick swallow, his throat clicking with emotion, Steve inhaled sharply. “Sure, mama. What song?”

“My song, please?”

A nod, that she could not see, was his response before he settled on the edge of the bed and took her hand in his.

♫ ♫ ♫

“Close your tired eyes, relax, and then Count from one to ten and open them All these heavy thoughts will try to weigh you down But not this time…”

“Way up in the air, you're finally free And you can stay up there right next to me All this gravity will try to pull you down But not this time…”

“When the sun goes down and the lights burn out Then it's time for you to shine Brighter than a shooting star So shine no matter where you are Fill the darkest night with a brilliant light 'Cause it's time for you to shine Brighter than a shooting star So shine no matter where you are tonight…”

♫ ♫ ♫

Steve’s breath hitched, his eyes welling with tears. When he was barely even two, his mama had written the song just for him. She had always said he was the answer to her greatest wish. He was her shooting star and he thought back to his seventh birthday, the last one before his mama began to forget things. They had been curled up in the living room and watched the starry sky twinkle with a thousand lights.

═ ⋆★⋆ ═

“Make a wish, Stevie. Wish on a shooting star,” she had whispered to him as though it was a secret just for them.

He had waited and as soon as he saw the star shoot across the sky, he closed his eyes and wished.

“Did you make a wish?”

“Yes, mama.”

She smiled and kissed his forehead, her arm around him as she pulled him closer to her side. He snuggled against her side as he thought about his wish.

‘I wish for mama to get better and for her to be truly happy again.’

═ ⋆★⋆ ═

A hand slipping into his, drew Steve from the memory and he kissed his mama’s small frail hand. He sniffled softly and finished singing his mama’s song.

♫ ♫ ♫

“Whoa-oh, whoa-oh, whoa-oh Brighter than a shooting star Shine no matter where you are…”

♫ ♫ ♫

His breath hitched again, the last word coming out in barely a whisper.

“Tonight.”

The wind picked up outside their small home in the woods, and as her breathing evened out, Steve couldn’t hold back the tears anymore. He just wanted her to get better and let him be a kid again. It made him feel guilty to have such thoughts and feelings, but he was only eight years old and had been so strong for two whole years. There were things he needed to clean, chores to do and food to cook but none of it mattered at the moment.

Blue eyes were glued to his mama’s sleeping face. Only in her sleep did she look peaceful, and only then could he forget, for just a little while, that nothing was the same as it had been two years ago. It was always quiet, too quiet, but as sad as he was, he was grateful that she was still alive, and he still had a mama. The day when he wouldn’t have his mama anymore, was terrifying to think about. So, he shoved all those sad thoughts aside and curled up next to her. Steve settled in a small ball against her side and shivered slightly as his breathing even out.

He was so tired and that always seemed to be the case now. His eyes fluttered shut to the lullaby made just for him. The howling wind, the dripping faucet, the soft inhales, the sharp exhales and the beating of a heart full of love, the melody that lulled him to sleep.

#sebstanbingo #ssbingo #marvel #MCU #steve rogers #sarah rogers #alternate universe - human #sick sarah rogers #bucky barnes (mentioned) #joseph rogers (mentioned) #marvel fanficion #protective steve rogers

[swxpped]

@fire-spitting-demon-bastard​​ said: "What is your greatest accomplishment? And your biggest failure?"

swxpped:

⊱ ────── {.⋅ ♫ ⋅.} ───── ⊰

{!!} – He answered offhandedly, a little dazed from drinks at the New Year’s party of which he had been necessitated to attend but at which he chose the comfort of seclusion in a less occupied corner of the event room, firmly pressed against the wall like a scolded dog. That was, until Carlos most unwelcomely interrupted his retirement from sociability. Alexsander blinked away from the wall his gaze had been settled upon, seemingly on auto-pilot and now suddenly aware that he was expected to answer Carolos’ question, even if only to the audience of one person, Alexsander instinctively responded to Carols’ question with such formality as if it were just another interview, as if he felt he were on display  - and for most of the time, he did. He sat up to attention where he was seated. Still, his words came somewhat slurred & without proper consideration before he said them, ❝...Concurrently, the answer must be living. I’m not particularly good at it & I’m mostly doing it out of obligation, but I think that having succeeded to live this long in spite of the many attempts made on my life by various individuals & collectives over the years is at least somewhat of an accomplishment. Still, I can only hope to one day figure out how to live correctly, as I’ve been told that whatever I am doing isn’t it.❞ Over his shoulder while he talked passed a six-spot burnet moth, having emerged from the grasslands unusually late for its species. Alexsander bowed his head and raised his glass to it in acknowledgement as it flapped frantic circles around the vicinity, like an old friend of his that he simply couldn’t ignore through risk of being rude. Just as soon as it had appeared though, the moth retreated back through the open window, satisfied that it had made its mark. Alexsander twirled his half-empty glass between his clawed fingers, hoping the singular question would be all he was obliged to entertain. Before Carlos had the chance to speak again, Alexsander noted, ❝Although, I must make you aware that outside opinions are not currently accepted until further notice. Please & thank you...!❞ He returned his weary captivation to the wall he’d been previously paying attention to, silver eyes narrowing attentively. Whispers egressed from behind the stone like creeping serpents, their language of a tongue entirely unknown to him and thus their meaning beyond his comprehension, and yet Alexsander got the distinct feeling that they were trying to tell him something...

#𝄞₊ ⊹ Verse; Unaffiliated #𝄞₊ ⊹ Interaction; swxpped/fire-spitting-demon-bastard #𝄞₊ ⊹ Headcanons; Let The Record Show

[moonlight-melts]

Patchwork family

Writing? On my blog? Damn.

Them. Just,,, them,,, they make me so happy.

This kiiiinda hints at what Mikaëla's curse is but it's vague and I'm not 100% satisfied with it so it might change in the future but eeeh whatever.

The beginning is unclear, apologies, but basically, Mika's shop (the Hourglass with a capital H) exists out of space and time, meaning that whenever or wherever you are, you can find it. And some people (probably from the Middle Ages) found out about Mika's magic and think he's a witch, so they basically want him dead.

(reblogs>likes. Selfship writing is selfship art too)

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The flickering light outside the windows was eerie, and I was worried. When the first hit crashed on the door, I decided it was time to move. I grabbed my journal and put it in Nao’s hands.

-Dear, I need you to go. Take the back door. If you can go to Gil’s, it’d be great. You’ll be safe there.

-But, and you?

-I’ll be fine. Give the journal to Eve, and tell them that under no circumstances should they try to get here, okay? No matter how much they insist.

A second hit, and the door started to crack. I winced.

-Please, Nao. Run.

-I’m not leaving you!

-If this shop dies, I will, too. I have no other choice. I am begging you. Run.

He hesitated, but finally took a few steps back.

-And, Nao?

-Yeah?

-No matter what happens, I love you.

His eyes filled to the brim with tears, but he gave me a smile that ripped my heart in half.

-I love you too, Mika. See you later.

And like that, he ran away. Good. I unlocked the door and got out, ready to face whoever was there to get me.

♪°•°∞°•°♪°•°∞°•°♪°•°∞°•°♪°•°∞°•°♪

I couldn’t move as much as I would have wanted to. I just sat down, my back against the wall, and looked at the Hourglass. Nothing too bad. The broken windows’ shards laid all over the floor, and some books fell off the shelves, but it was nothing we couldn’t fix. I was weakened, though, I could feel it. They didn’t break the hourglass, but I could see cracks in the glass, expending slowly. My ears started ringing and I felt my mind getting fuzzy. I couldn’t think.

But then a hand grabbed one of mine.

-E…ve?

-Mikaëla! You’re still alive!

-Kinda. Is… Is Nao…

-I’m here.

Nao’s voice, tiny as it could be, instantly sent waves of relief flowing in my body.

-Gimme a second, you two.

I tried to collect my thoughts.

-Don’t force yourself, Mikaëla, you…

-Eve, if I don’t do that, I will die. Nao, do you remember the curses I taught you the other day?

-The… The binding one? And… And the repairing one?

-Mmh. Do you remember how to execute them?

-Yeah.

-Okay, okay, good. Do you see the hourglass behind the counter?

-The small one?

-Yes. Use the curses on it. Take your time, they have to be done well, but do it.

-What do I bind it to? Me?

-No, no. First, you repair… Ouch…

-Mika!

-I’ll be okay. I really need you to do this. First, you repair it. After that, you need to restore the bond between the hourglass and me. Do not bind it to anything or anyone else. Focus on that.

-Why you?

-Nao. Nao look at me. I’ll promise I’ll explain it all when you’re done. But please, do it. Now.

He nodded, running to the counter to execute the pretty complicated incantations I taught him. In the meantime, I had closed my eyes.

-Stay awake.

Eve’s voice warned me.

-I am. Just tired.

-Mikaëla, please, open your eyes.

I did, not without a groan.

-Eve, why are you here, by the way? I told…

-I know. I just couldn’t leave you to die.

-You’re impossible.

-Says who?

-You know why I do this.

Before Eve could answer anything, I felt a sudden surge in energy. Nao was done, and he turned to me with a small smile on his lips. Eve helped me to get back up, and I took a few steps. Everything seemed to be fine. I was almost taken off balance when Nao crashed into me.

-Ouch! Careful, kid. I’m not quite reestablished yet.

Nao didn’t move, but his shoulders were shaking. I draped my arms around him.

-I’m fine. I promise. I’m sorry I scared you.

With a small tilt of my hand, I asked Eve to join us.

-C’mon. I smiled. Group hug, for I am sorry.

They shook their head with a small smile, but did come to hug us in the end.

I tried to fight the tears, I really did, but I ended up sobbing quietly as I held them close. Eve noticed, and they looked at me, visibly concerned.

-What’s wrong, Mikaëla?

-It’s just… Ah, I’m sorry. It’s just that… I love you two so much.

Nao mumbled something I didn’t understand. I asked him to repeat, and he looked up at me with a cheeky smile.

-Weird-ass patchwork family we are, uh?

#patchwork family 🪡

[carlandrea]

♫ beren x luthien, legolas, and hmm turgon?

Mina omg thank you for sending in another one <3

Beren and Luthien

Beren and Luthien! Oh I'm gonna go with the end of the end of the world by Lee Ann Womack

Open up the window Let the light back in Tell all the birds to start chirping again 'Cause my baby's back from wherever he's been And it's the end of the end of the world

Well I take back all of those things that I said About how I'd probably be better off dead My reason for living is back in my bed And it's the end of the end of the world

Like it's just a very sweet love song—very devoted, very them.

Legolas :)

And then for Legolas my best friend Legolas

All among the barley Who would not be blithe, oh so blithe? When the ripe and bearded barley is smiling On the scythe

Now 'tis come September, the hunters moon's begun And through the wheat and stubble 'tis heard a frequent gun The leaves are pale and yellow and kindling into red And the ripe and bearded barley is hanging down it's head

All among the barley Who would not be blithe? When the ripe and bearded barley is smiling On the scythe

All among the barley! specifically I'm thinking of the version by the merry wives of windsor but pretty much any high energy version of the song works for him I think :)

The spring is like a young maid who does not know her mind The summer is a tyrant, the most egracious kind The autumn is an old friend who loves with all she can Cause she brings the bearded barley to collect the hearts of man

Turgon

Oooh Turgon hmm I do not have a very solidly established Vibe for Turgon like I do with the others. This one's a little more difficult

Ok so the stupid answer is Why We Build the Wall from Hadestown

Why do we build the wall? My children, my children Why do we build the wall?

Why do we build the wall? We build the wall to keep us free That's why we build the wall We build the wall to keep us free

How does the wall keep us free? My children, my children How does the wall keep us free?

How does the wall keep us free? The wall keeps out the enemy And we build the wall to keep us free That's why we build the wall We build the wall to keep us free

You know what. No. I'm going with it. Turgon is Coal Baron Hades

These were all SO fun to come up with

[100yearoldcomics]

June 4, 1922 The Captain and the Kids by Rudolph Dirks

TOP PANEL [ID: A train leaves the station, a sign beside the tracks stating "This Train for RENO & Points West." A conductor stands on the railing of the caboose and cries out for boarding. Mama storms off towards the train, angrily toting an umbrella and a suitcase while glaring behind herself at a kneeling, weeping Captain begging forgiveness. The Kids stand beside him, curiously watching the whole scene. /end] Conductor: AH-LL A-B-O-ARD!! Mama: Toot der vhistle, mister, I'm caming!! Captain: Mamma, Mamma. For my sake und der boys, vait!!

MAIN COMIC [ID: Der Captain ogles a young flapper in a one-piece bathing suit sitting on a beach under an umbrella, next to a sign that reads, "Swimming Instructress: Lessons by Hour, Day." Der Captain has an unlit cigar in one hand and a straw boater in the other, his beach towel and swimsuit hanging over his arm. The Kids watch from behind a mound of sand. /end] Captain: Oh, my! A svimmings educations by der hour, day, or veek! Tee-hee, chust a minute lady, I know vare iss a customer! Hans: See who iss it?

[ID: Der Captain peeks out of a private changing room on wheels. Unseen, Fritz lifts Hans into an open window on the side. In the distance, a rag-and-bone man walks up to the beach. /end] Captain: Ha! Der coast iss clean, und Mamma iss by der fliffer oudt, dod bless her heart! Fritz: Bitzness looks good, Hans. Here comes a cash customer! Rag-and-Bone Man: ♪♪ Old clothes for cash ♫

[ID: Der Captain, in polka-dot swim trunks and a striped shirt, bows and tips his straw hat to the swimming instructress. /end] Captain: Here iss it, lady! Und could you teach a landlubber der "back-flop," und keep der secret private? Tee-hee!! Instructress: Sit down, sir! In this instance, I'm afraid we'll have to wait until the tide rises to accomplish anything!

[ID: The rag man, wearing a stack of three hats atop his head, inspects der Captain's pants closely. In the background, Mama sits behind the wheel of their convertible coupe. Fritz stands beside it and calls out to Hans, still in the changing room. /end] Rag-and-Bone Man: Ugh! A bit frayed und out of date! I couldn't giff a blood relation more den nine cents, mine friend! Hans: Make it a efen dime, sport, und t'row in der hat! Mama: Fritz, answer it, did you saw Der Captain? Fritz: Yoo-hoo, Hans, sumvun to see Der Captain!

[ID: The Kids jump into the car and Fritz takes the wheel, driving Mama down the beach. Der Captain hides behind the instructress's umbrella. /end] Fritz: Yup! He said sumting about a svimming lesson, Mamma, but he didn't say who mit? Mama: A svim lesson, at his age? Captain: Chimbly! It's Mamma!!

[ID: Der Captain runs off with the instructress's umbrella. Mama easily spots him. /end] Captain: Excuse it, lady, vhile I borrow der sun-shader!! Instructress: Sir! Mama: ...? Dem feet!!! Hans: Tee- Fritz: -hee!

[ID: Der Captain hides out in the changing room while a furious Mama storms up to it, giving der Captain the stink eye. The Kids follow in her car. /end] Captain: ? Mama: Der vhale! If only I vos sure!! Hans: How's der gas, darling? Fritz: Vell, ve can try it!

[ID: Der Captain speaks nervously out of the window in the changing room as Mama sulks on the front steps leading off it. Behind them, the Kids speed their car into the back of the changing room. /end] Mama: Vell, any how, I vait. Und if I ain't mistook for a bath, he get a luffly china shower in der house home, I bet!! Captain: Dunner vetter, she's vise! Hans: Not too hard, Fritz. Ma iss on der front porch! Fritz: Don't vorry, old boy, ve got on shock-absorbers!

[ID: They plow into the back of the changing room, laughing heartily. The blow knocks the front end of the booth, along with Mama, up in the air. Der Captain looks at the audience in surprise. /end] Mama: UGH! Captain: ? Hans: Vot iss a houseboat, Fritz? Fritz: Sumting vot speeds on land und sails on sea, luff!

[ID: The Kids keep driving into the changing booth. Since it's on wheels, this has the effect of pushing it off towards the seashore. Mama sits on the beach behind them, shaking an angry fist in the air. Der Captain does the same, leaning out of the window. /end] Mama: Bummers! Come back. Revench iss mine, you hear it? Hans: ♫ Vot are der vild vafes say-ing ♫ Fritz: Don't ask me, vait! Captain: You lobsters! Oh, you bet me I get efen mit diss!!

[ID: They stop sharply on a tall dock, the momentum pushing der Captain off the edge and into the sea. The Kids laugh. /end] Hans: A sea-shore plunge in a cabinet bath, how stylish!!

[ID: Mama swings an anchor around her head atop the dock, glaring at der Captain as he struggles to get atop the barely-floating changing house. A rowboat sails off into the distance. /end] Mama: Loafer! I should let you sink, but diss time, I safe you for sumting else you got coming! Captain: !

#newspaper comics #vintage #history #1922 #the katzenjammer kids #the captain & the kids #rudolph dirks #transcript available #1920s #beachday

[disaster-daydreams]

See You Later pt. 4

Mammon (Obey Me! Shall We Date?) x GN!reader

See You Later Masterlist

A/N This chapter is from Mammon’s point of view because I was in a mood this morning. It has been decided that the next chapter will be from Mammon’s point of view as well. And after that... well. It may take me a bit more time to write out the upcoming bits, just fyi!

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So this was what haunting was like. 

Mammon had always thought being followed by a ghost would be miserable, but he could barely even leave the room without feeling like he was being stabbed in the chest. Sometimes, even his room wasn’t safe. And no spirit could be blamed for the haunting he was experiencing- only his own memory could be blamed.

Walking past the human’s room on the way to breakfast. Hearing the creak of the loose window they would clamber out of to skip class on the roof. Staring blankly at the empty desk that once belonged to them, sat right beside Mammon’s so that he could cheat. Often, the human would pretend to drop their paper on the floor to give him a better chance of getting the answers right.

He would see something they like in a store and buy it, only afterwards realizing that he wouldn’t be able to give it to them. This habit resulted in a box of trinkets with their name on it sitting beside his bed, right beside the box packed full of scraps of paper- napkins from Hell’s Kitchen, torn edges of math workbooks, and folded notebook papers- each containing any bit of information he thought they would enjoy. Dumb jokes, fun facts, quotes from classmates, names of songs he found, and occasionally, little drawings he thought they would like. Things he would never have thought twice about now meant so much more.

He knew he shouldn’t keep them. They would never stay with him. But it was his sin, wasn’t it? Greed? Wanting them to be there, wanting them to only want him. 

The dreams were the worst by far. 

There, in the haze between deep sleep and wakefulness, his mind worked through every thought he struggled to push away in the daytime. They were there with him again, in the Ferris wheel, and they said yes. They promised that he would never lose them, that no matter what happened, they would be there. They were together at the House of Lamentation, in his room, and the human was reading while Mammon scrolled through his phone mindlessly, just happy to be there. The vague impression of soft kisses, and nights cuddling, and going to sleep beside them, all of that vanished when he opened his eyes to nothing but a silent home. The loneliness that seeped through his bones made it hard to get up. Most mornings he walked in later than Belphie, and what food he had left went mostly untouched. 

The silence was the worst, though. It seemed to follow him, any room he entered immediately going still. It made him unreasonably angry; he wanted to yell, to tell them that he was fine, he wouldn’t break if someone breathed the wrong way, but some little voice in him knew that that was a lie. It was the same little voice that compelled him to write so many ‘I love you’s for the little box of papers. He wished he could kill it sometimes.

He did try to avoid the House of Lamentation. It seemed like nearly everyone else did, too, Satan and Belphie being the only ones regularly visiting. He might have thought it was his brothers tiptoeing around him, if he hadn’t caught Levi balking at the hallway that led past the human’s room towards his, and watched the Avatar of Envy turn to find a different way to his room. 

He missed the companionship the human had brought. He had never realized how isolated he was from his family until the human left. They had dragged him along to everything, into the noise and bustle of a real family, and now that there wasn’t that outside force pulling them together, their differences pushed them apart. No more finding somewhere to eat with Beel and sneaking back leftovers to share with Levi and Asmo while watching a movie. No more sneaking out with Belphie and Satan to stargaze and getting caught by Lucifer, eventually convincing him to join them. No more attempts to teach Solomon how to cook with Luke and Simeon, nearly smoking the lot of them out of Purgatory Hall. No more distracting Barbatos long enough to have a relaxed outing with Diavolo. There was always something with the human, but now, the world just seemed to sink in on itself. 

This horrible loneliness was his only excuse for not noticing Satan and Lucifer sooner. 

Belphie, of course, was the first one to bring it up. They had begun leaving breakfast earlier, together, before Belphie and Mammon could even get there. The morning Belphie finally said something, they had lingered a bit longer than usual, heading out at the moment Belphie and Mammon were coming in. 

“Where are you two going? Classes don’t start until eight.” He narrowed his eyes at them, and Lucifer tilted his head up. “Diavolo has assigned us a project. It requires a certain amount of expertise in a subject that I do not have. Satan is assisting me.” His voice was tense, like a band pulled back until it was about to snap. Satan sighed, shifting the books in his arms. 

“Can we leave? We don’t have much time as it is. You will know soon what it is we’ve been working on.” Satan sounded as tired as he looked. The shadows under his eyes were exacerbated by the poor lighting in the hallway. He brushed past all three of the other demons in the hallway, hiding a slight stumble in his step by shifting his books again. Lucifer glanced between Belphie and Mammon, eventually settling on the latter.

“Don’t worry,” He said simply, stepping briskly to catch up with Satan. Something about his tone changed when he said it, becoming softer, almost bordering on comforting. It threw Mammon off, temporarily dispelling any misery he may have been wallowing in. 

A project that was keeping Satan and Lucifer away from the house, both before and after school, that left Lucifer more tense than any paperwork he had done in a long time, and exhausted Satan to the point of creating dark circles under his eyes. A project being worked on at the Demon Lord’s castle.

Oh, that wasn’t suspicious at all.

Mammon had been needing a distraction.

¸¸♬·¯·♩¸¸♪·¯·♫¸¸¸♬·¯·♩¸¸♪·¯·♫¸¸¸¸♬·¯·♩¸¸♪·¯·♫¸¸¸♬·¯·♩¸¸♪·¯·♫¸¸

See You Later Masterlist

#daydreams original #im so sorry yall #it only gets worse #obey me mammon #obey me mammon x reader #obey me mammon x mc #mammon x reader #mammon obey me #mammon x mc #mammon x gn!reader #mammon x gn!mc #obey me lucifer #lucifer obey me #obey me diavolo #diavolo obey me #satan obey me #obey me satan #obey me! shall we date? #obey me #obey me fanfic #obey me fluff #obey me angst #mammon is best boy

[buckyismybicycle]

Hold Onto Me: Chapter 4

Pairing: WS!Bucky x Reader (musician) Rating: Teen for now, Explicit later Tags/Warnings: canon-typical violence, canon-divergent, angst, fluff, music soothes the soul y’all, so many other tags to come Summary:  You happen to get caught in the Winter Soldier’s attack one day, but you don’t expect to ever see him again. You definitely don’t expect him to show up at your home, bleeding. You definitely, definitely don’t expect to want to go on the run with him.

♬ ♪ ♫ You pick me up when I feel down No matter how deep in the night I got your back when we go out You know I’m always on your side We don't need money to feel good 'Cause you're the ridе or die, the rest of my lifе Don't need a party to feel high We're like the modern version of Bonnie and Clyde ♬ ♪ ♫

You pull your baseball cap lower, even though they’re not looking for you, and you stay close to Bucky’s side at all times. Bucky had insisted on that, for safety, unless they were made - then he ordered you to run.

(“I’m not leaving you!”

“I’ll find you. I promise.”)

Your first stop was Australia, and you spend most of the ship ride asleep on Bucky’s shoulder. It turns out Bucky had retrieved his only belongings (his dog tags) and what he thought he needed from HYDRA (money and weapons). It was a lot of money to be carrying around.

While it was obvious from your accents that you weren’t from around there, the country was welcoming to tourists. In fact, you’d met a ton of people just packing up from their summer vacation or here temporarily. Bucky doesn’t stop looking over his shoulder, doubting himself already. HYDRA has agents everywhere. So does SHIELD. Why did I bring her into this?!

The heart of the city feels a bit too crowded so you both make your way eastward and southward, jumping between motels, until the noise is no longer constant and Bucky can sort of breathe.

The apartment you snagged in New South Wales was for one month and already furnished, so you tried to get Bucky to relax. He taped newspapers up on the windows. You don’t call him crazy or paranoid, just took the tape roll from him and ripped the pieces, handing home each one so he could focus on the paper. It made him feel safer, that’s what mattered. You catch him pacing a few times, patrolling, eyes always flickering here and there when his enhanced hearing picks up on something.

He doesn’t speak, not really. You’re not sure he spoke at all the first day but sometimes you get to ask him questions and he answers. Short, but still. You work on it.

You write in your notebook, like a journal, to catalogue the events of your travels. Technically you were aiding a fugitive and not on a vacation by any means, but it didn’t feel that way to you sometimes. You catch Bucky watching you sometimes, and think, maybe it’d be nice to have him write his thoughts down as well, especially when he tries to open up to you, but shuts down. You don’t pry, because you know he’s trying. Gently, you tell him some of the files were leaked online, but you don’t say what because he doesn’t ask. You suspect that SHIELD had been infiltrated long, long ago - how else would they know exactly how to thaw out Captain America would? Bucky seems to think about this for a while.

You decide to get a Polaroid camera, nothing digital as per Bucky’s instructions, and also find a notebook for Bucky. You take a picture of the beachside to tape it into your journal cover, and pick up a newspaper like Bucky asked. Bucky is sitting on the couch, which he’d arranged to have against the wall.

“I got something for you,” you said as you rummage through your bag for his notebook. “I thought maybe you could use it to write your thoughts down, help organize things for you. I know sometimes you don’t feel comfortable enough telling me everything and that’s okay. But this could maybe help you get some of it off your chest?”

He looks between the notebook and you, face softens a little.

“Thank you,” he says before pulling you into his lap and there’s no resistance from you at all. He spends a few moments with his ear pressed to your chest, and you let him hear how your heart beats for him.

He finally does settle, somewhat, and it becomes so domestic, so quickly. Since you weren’t the one they were looking for, you did all the shopping, though you tried to get at least 4-5 days worth at a time so you didn’t have to leave too much. When you came home, Bucky would help you put the groceries away, and he’d read the paper you picked up so he could be up to date with world affairs and you’d both prepare dinner together. His skills with a knife were indisputable, and somehow translated into chopping vegetables perfectly. He’s now got a bit of a beard going, and while you miss that defined jaw of his, you have to admit it works well for his cover. At least he’s good about trimming it regularly.

At night, he would go on a (very) long run, to burn his excess energy and keep in shape, and when he came back, shirt sticking to his chest with sweat and breathing heavy, you did your best not to get yearn for something he wasn’t looking for.

When he did his millions of sit-ups and push-ups, you would journal or do puzzles to stop yourself from staring.

On your shopping days you’d head to the library and borrow a few books to bring home, split the pile with Bucky and then swap once you two were done. Sometimes Bucky would journal and get the “furrowed brow concentration” look at it was always best to leave him alone during those times.

You’d think that being confined indoors would result in the days dragging by, but honestly each day felt new to you, and they began to blur together, speeding by. You explored recipes together, learned card games together and spent a lot of time reading.

One day, you’re up making breakfast, your hair still damp from your morning shower. Neither of you ever shower without the other awake, on guard. Bucky is lounging on the couch with the TV playing something softly in the background which it often does since he’s still having a hard time casually conversing, making it too quiet.

Bucky does okay with some foods now, which you were ecstatic about, even if it was just yogurt and pudding. He was getting better with bread, plain, but one day you’d get peanut butter on there. He went through a ton of these foods after discovering that he could stomach it. Today, you’d try plain scrambled eggs - if he doesn’t eat them or doesn’t like them, you’d just finish them up.

You pull out the eggs, milk, and get the bread ready for the toaster. As the eggs sizzle on the pan, you tell Bucky what you’re making, asking if he wants to try some today. As soon as you turn away from the toaster, Bucky surprises you by standing in the centre of the kitchen.

“Jesus!” You curse, but laugh at your own silliness. Nobody would make it one step into the apartment, if Bucky didn’t want them to. Of course it wouldn’t be anyone else. He watches you work in silence.

You plate the breakfast but catch your arm on the pan and you let out a hiss of pain. A set of strong, warm hands take the pan and spatula from you and gently nudge you away. The toaster pops and he takes care of that too.

The scrambled eggs are a success, and he gets an entire tub of yogurt as a treat.

The morning’s success keeps you happy for hours - you were so proud of him! He was always skeptical but never stopped trying. Soon, you were sure you could get him eating whatever he wanted. As you lazily fill out your sudoku, you begin to hum without realizing. Too concentrated on your puzzle, you don’t register that the TV has been turned off. It takes a few moments but you finally look up at the blank TV and then turn to Bucky, who’d been sitting on the floor in front of the couch that you were lying on.

“What’s that song?” He asks.

“Oh,” you blink up at him. You hadn’t given it much thought until he asked. “Well, it’s not exactly a happy song, it’s just something I learned a while ago.”

“Sing for me?” His voice is so soft that you couldn’t deny him. You sit yourself up and take a moment to remember the words. It feels weird to do this without your guitar, without the chords to guide you.

“It's you, it's always you If I'm ever gonna fall in love, I know it's gon' be you, it's you, it's always you Met a lot of people, but nobody feels like you So please don't break my heart, don't tear me apart I know how it starts, trust me I've been broken before Don't break me again, I am delicate, please don't break my heart Trust me I've been broken before, I've been broken, yeah I know how it feels, to be open, and then find out your love isn't real I'm still hurting, yeah, I'm hurting inside I'm so scared to fall in love, but if it's you then I'll try, it's you”

You don’t finish the song, even though you’re close, because you can feel your voice crack. It’s not that you’re crying, but it’s a near thing. The first time you played this song you had been a mess, fresh out of a relationship where he’d been cheating on you for over three months. It was still raw.

“Not broken,” he murmurs faintly. He’d turned so that he was facing you, his sapphire eyes looking up at you with concern with his hands on your legs that are crossed on the couch. It startles a bitter laugh out of you.

“Aren’t I?” You ask rhetorically. You blink a few times, and sniffle.

“Not broken,” he repeats, his hands travel up to your waist to pull you closer, and he nudges himself into your hold against your chest. You can’t help but run your hands through his hair, just as he’d done to you. It’s the exact position you’d been in back when you first learned what they were doing to Bucky - when you’d sobbed against his chest telling him he deserved better.

You were not better.

But you let yourself be soothed because you couldn’t remember the last time you’d wanted so badly. Since you’re already feeling greedy, you tilt his head towards yours and lower your lips until they taste nirvana, and you let Bucky climb up on the couch between your legs. Holding you closer, he slowly rolls so you end up on top of him but doesn’t let go. You drift off into an afternoon nap like that, curled up on his chest like a kitten.

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[aphrodite-made-me-write-it]

Everything Stays

Part Two: Of Bliss, Of Blood

(A/N) Okay WOW. I did not expect the response I got from part one! Thank you so much for all the feedback!! I’m glad you guys like it!! Everyone who asked to be tagged, I’m pretty sure I got all of you. If you wanna be tagged, lemme know! This is gonna be another one of my dark fics, full of existential dread. Guess who read a lot of Anne Rice as a Youth? The people have spoken, and the people want more Natasha and so I must provide! also the word ‘simp’ comes from the early 1900s / late 1890′s. ur welcome

♫ ♫ ♫ I really outdid myself with this one

Rating: M (Mature; Dark Content Ahead)

Warnings: Should be obvious but we have blood here; Fury/Romanoff Father/Daughter relationship bc I need it and i am selfish; Sexual Tension Babes!!; Foul Language; Existentialism; Overall Melancholy

Pairing: Natasha Romanoff x Vampire!Reader (F)

Chapter Word Count: 4,971

Total Word Count: 14,880

Synopsis: You adjust to your new second life; You and Natasha have a Moment; You reconnect with an old friend.

| i | ii | iii | iv | coming soon |

god i wish that straw were me

It’s been two weeks since you woke up from your magically-induced hibernation. You have much better control over your thirst for blood now that you can simply grab a bag from the ‘minifridge’ in your room. You don’t blame the others for not wanting to see you feed - it’s rather gross in your opinion, as well. 

Natasha helped you decorate, particularly to cover the giant windows in your room with large, deep purple curtains. Your days are split between researching ancient demonic cults and catching up with all that lost time. The first time you see a television, you can’t stop gawking at it like a loon. While some of the others found it endearing, Steve was the supportive one for the most part. Turns out, he does know a thing or two about waking up in a different time. 

Your nights, though, are spent in solitude. You don’t need to sleep, not really - and you’ve had plenty of sleep, anyway - so nights are what you’d consider your time to do whatever you want outside of prying eyes. You have too many questions and too few answers. 

Tonight, you’re out on the balcony. The city below is a swath of lights, even this late into the evening. You wonder how many monsters are out there lurking, while you’re stuck up here. You haven’t tried leaving the Tower on your own yet, but you aren’t sure if you really want to.

It’s strange. You feel like a ghost of sorts. Here, in this time, in this world - but, at the same time, always stuck in the Then. You feel so different, but - you’re not exactly the monster you thought you would be. You still feel sad. You miss your father. You miss your brother. Your mother-

What had happened to her, you can’t help but wonder? She’s no doubt dead, but you didn’t tell her where you were going. That doesn’t make much difference, you suppose. After your brother’s death, she was a vacant husk of a woman. Lost in her own grief, gripped in the terror of What If. 

You were all she had.

Then, there was the impending apocalypse. It was always an impending apocalypse.

The sliding glass door hisses as it opens, alerting you to another presence. You recognize it as Natasha almost immediately; she’s quieter than the others, and her scent is uniquely her own.

“I’m supposed to be the nocturnal one,” you joke lightly as she approaches you. 

The redhead laughs softly, leaning her elbows on the railing. Her shoulders are tense, gaze a little distant. Even so, her posture is straight and stiff. “Do you not sleep?” She asks.

“No,” you look back out into the bustling city. “I can sleep, but my body doesn’t need it.”

Natasha is excellent at masking her expression into one of neutrality. Still, you can see the way her lips twitch every so often, as if struggling to keep a light smile. Something is bothering her. You’ve never been one for subtlety.

The wind picks up, sending waves of red into the air like flickering flames. Natasha suppresses a shiver, but you don’t miss it. You shrug off the jacket you bought during your first trip to the outside world with Natasha. She said you looked great in it, and though you don’t feel the temperature, it gave you some comfort to have something heavy and warm. You place the jacket on her shoulders, earning a teasing smirk from Natasha.

“So you are a gentlewoman,” she observes with a wink.

You roll your eyes, unable to stop yourself from smiling. “I tell no lies, ma’am.” You watch her pull the jacket tighter around herself. “What are you doing up so late?”

Natasha doesn’t answer right away. Instead, she looks down at the smooth metal of the balcony. Her fingers drum against it, her expression thoughtful and dazed. 

“I don’t sleep well,” she says after a long silence. She says it in the way that people often say things when they’re just damned tired. Not physically, but mentally. She’s been through a lot, and while she can seem confident and in control most of the time, it’s only a mask for how she truly feels. You know a lot about that. It was how you lived your entire life.

“Back in my day,” you start, earning a snort and a groan from the redhead.

“You’re starting to sound like Steve,” she explains, a little breathless.

You roll your eyes. “This generation does not understand respect.”

“Aw, did I hurt your feelings?” She pouts teasingly. 

You scoff. “Monsters don’t have feelings, remember?”

“Hey,” her tone hardens, just a little. “What did I say about calling yourself that?”

You meet her gaze with a half-smile. “Sorry, force of habit. Well, when I couldn’t sleep, my brother would take me out to the fields. He’d show me the stars, make up stories for them. Sometimes he would name them after the vampires he killed,” you can’t help but laugh a little at that. “He was always soft like that… father saw it as a weakness, but… maybe, in the end, he was the most human of us all.”

Natasha gives you a sympathetic smile. “There we go, back to sounding like a greeting card. Sounds like your brother was a good man.”

“He should have been the one with all this…” You gesture to the books with a sigh. “I was never meant to be the heir.”

“But you are.”

“But I am,” you agree. “What about you? Last I was around, Russia was a political minefield.” 

“And here I thought you didn’t waste your time with politics when you were busy hunting monsters.” Natasha playfully nudges her shoulder against yours. 

“Well, monarchies of over three centuries don’t typically fall apart silently. Revolution is never silent.” You shrug.

“True,” Natasha hums, tapping the counter. “I was a spy, of sorts. An assassin, really. Worked up quite the reputation before SHIELD got to me. Made me open my eyes to a hell of a lot.”

“But not vampires?”

“No, not vampires.” She chuckles. “Been here ever since.”

You hum, allowing yourself to look over her once again. She really is beautiful. A knockout dame like her would have been a primary target for vampires. Immortality wouldn’t change much about her, you think. She’s already so achingly gorgeous. Her heart picks up the pace, a lovely pink spreading across her cheeks the longer you look at her.

She clears her throat, stepping away from the railing. “I should really get back to bed.”

“You should,” you agree, though the thought of being without her saddens you a little.

“I’ll see you in the morning,” she promises.

“See you,” you watch her disappear back inside, feeling strangely warm as yo udo so. You turn back to the skyline, at the rays of gold and pink just starting to appear over the distance. This world is so strange, so new - but, maybe, you might find your place here.

- - - -

“And you’re sure they’ll have… valuable information?” Fury asks, sounding hesitant as he glances at you and Natasha.

“I’m not certain, but it’s a start. Your tech gobbledygook is taking too long, and I can’t stand being cooped up here all the time.” You admit honestly.

“And you think Agent Romanoff is the best choice for companionship?” He continues, and this time you really do understand the distrust in his tone. Going into a literal den of vampires doesn’t sound ideal, and though he knows Natasha is more than capable of handling herself, legends he’s read lately of vampires going after beautiful young women have him a little bit worried. (Not that he’ll admit it.)

“I’ll be alright,” you promise. “If they step out of line, I’ve taken down plenty of leeches in my day. We’ll be back before you know it.”

“Okay,” he relents, though his look of worry doesn’t fade. “Romanoff, gather as much intel with (Y/N) as you can.”

She nods curtly, giving him a reassuring smile.

Hours later, you’re helping Natasha get ready for your late night excursion.

“Most Feeders wear red,” you explain. “Hides the, ah, blood.”

“Why do these places exist, exactly?” Natasha asks, searching her closet for something red. You’d also informed her about exposed necks (which, back in your day, were incredibly taboo) so it’s obvious she’s searching for a particular dress she has in mind. 

“When a vampire bites you,” you explain slowly, “and their saliva mixes into the wound, it can cause a weird chemical reaction in your brain. It’s sort of like…”

“Getting high?” Natasha looks over her shoulder at you with surprise. “So… they’re taking advantage of people by getting them stoned?”

You cringe. “Well, sort of. To them, it’s like having a pet. The humans are well taken care of - obviously blood tastes better from a healthy human than an unhealthy one. They give consent, at least, which, in my day, was practically unheard of.”

She hums thoughtfully, pulling out a hanger with a grin. “Did you ever visit one before?”

You clear your throat, looking away from her as she steps behind a screen to change. “Once. I was captured by a Coven once and brought to one of the Dens to hold for ransom. They never bit me or anything, but father was never a man of mercy.” 

“So if I’m in red, what are you going to wear?” Natasha pokes her head out.

“Black, if tradition still stands.”

“Naturally.” She huffs and steps out. “Can you help me zip up?”

If you still had blood, you know you’d be blushing. You stand on somewhat shaky legs and approach the redhead. She turns her back to you, the zipper all the way down to her waist. Did she even try to get it herself?

You hear her heart begin to race as you grip the metal and pull it up, the cold tips of your knuckles tracing along Natasha’s spine. Her breath hitches, and you find yourself drowning in the scent of her. She is unfairly beautiful.

You take a step back to clear your head. Natasha looks at you with an unreadable expression, her lips pursed. She studies you for a long moment, eyes roaming up and down your body. 

You do the same, admiring how well she pulls off the color. Red suits her; you can only assume she’s going to paint her lips to match it. The long slit up the side and the scandalously low cut of it are enough to send your mind spinning.

“I might have something for you.” Natasha hums thoughtfully, breaking you out of your trance as she moves back to her closet to dig around.

You quickly pull on the long, black dress she’d picked out for you. It hugs your curves almost as perfectly as her dress hugs hers, but you think she’s just naturally that perfect. (It’s almost annoying, if it wasn’t so damn pleasant to the eyes.)

She even does your makeup for you, painting your face in ways that your father would have scorned. By the time you’re ready to leave, you look almost like a different person again. 

“We look hot,” Natasha grins, wrapping an arm around your waist. 

You snort. “What does temperature have to do with this?”

You can only laugh along with her, despite your confusion and her lack of an explanation. It’s odd, how easy it has become to be around her. Maybe it’s because it was her blood that woke you up, or maybe it’s just a natural sort of connection. You aren’t sure what to categorize it as. 

She was flirtatious - far more daring than any woman when you were alive. In fact, your attraction to women was extremely secretive. The fact that she’s so open to flirting with you in front of anyone - even the men - is always surprising, but when she does so in privacy like this, it makes your head go all fuzzy.

Natasha Romanoff was a dangerous woman. (But, then again, danger has always been an inescapable mistress.)

- - - -

You aren’t sure what you expect when you step into the Feeder Den. You remember when you had been captured and your father came to save you, the place erupted into violence. Naturally, they all knew who he was and what he was there for. Back then, there wasn’t a vampire around that didn’t know who Van Helsing was. You’re sure that if you entered one yourself back then, it would have a similar result. 

You certainly don’t expect the sudden silence. They’ve adapted to the modern day, with dark lighting and heavy music - the front of it appears to be some kind of bar for humans, but the back rooms are where the feeding takes place. The moment you slip into the back room, all eyes are on you, wide with wonder.

The atmosphere is tense; wary. Do they recognize you? Instinctively, you keep yourself a bit in front of Natasha with a dangerous expression on your features. You can sense Natasha’s own apprehension and confusion, but she doesn’t show it. (You doubt she’d ever show an ounce of fear in front of these monsters.)

You take careful strides through the small lounge. Sofas and loveseats made of black leather line the walls, occasionally separated by a half wall. The tables have a few drinks and snacks for the Feeders, but not many of them look touched. As you predicted, the Feeders are wearing red, and are blissed out at the sides of their vampiric companions, who watch over them with mixed, unreadable expressions. 

It’s like they’re afraid of you. Like there’s an unspoken unease the second they see you. The smell of blood is everywhere, clouding your mind just a little as your thirst begins to burn at your throat. You’ve never fed from a human before - never considered the idea of it - but suddenly it’s too tantalizing not to think about. You try to hold your breath to fight the effects of it, but it does little to soothe the ache in your throat. Natasha’s arm loops through yours, her emerald eyes shining with concern.

You lead Natasha to a less populated cubicle, where a boy and his Feeder are sitting comfortably. The woman beside him looks half-conscious, a bit of blood drying at the edges of her dress. He wipes his lips with a napkin, almost delicately, before looking up as you approach. His eyes widen, his posture stiffening when you and Natasha take your places at the empty loveseat.

“Hello,” you greet, hoping you sound friendly despite your apprehension. 

He swallows, licks his lips. His extended fangs glint just a little bit as he tries to flash a nervous smile in return. “I’ve never seen you ‘round these parts before,” he speaks in a light British accent, hardly noticeable. He’s been around a while, you assume. Long enough that his accent has begun to fade to an American one. “We don’t often get newcomers.”

“Well, I’ve only been in America for a few weeks,” you explain, releasing Natasha’s arm so you can wrap your own around her waist and pull her closer. 

“And you’ve found yourself a Feeder already?” He looks at Natasha with interest. “A beauty, too.”

“I’m a dedicated sort of woman, I suppose,” you hope you’re conveying as much ownership as possible. If you aren’t careful, he might try and coerce Natasha into letting him feed and that is something you’re trying to avoid at all costs. “Tell me, who is the Overseer of this place?”

He looks nervous, suddenly. He looks away, towards a door further back into the lounge. “She doesn’t much like visitors.”

“I see…” You hum thoughtfully. That’s not good. “Well, it’s been quite a while since I was around others of my kind.”

“Yeah, I hear Europe has gone dry since that Helsing heir went crazy.” He snorts. You try to control your body from its natural reaction, to little avail. 

“Helsing,” you remark curiously. “It’s been a long time since I’ve heard that name.”

“Oh, yeah,” he nods, grinning fully now. “Legend says she fought the King Himself. But I don’t think she realized what she was doing,” he chuckles to himself. “She freed us from His grasp. We aren’t His servants anymore.”

You frown, interest sufficiently piqued. “Is that so?”

“Of course! Don’t you feel it? No darkness, no hate…” he shakes his head in disbelief. “Imagine that, a Helsing saving us? Can you believe it?”

“No,” you force a grin onto your face. “No, I can’t.” You glance at Natasha, who looks just as shocked as you. “That’s actually why I’m here. I’ve been… very interested in the disappearance of the King, and the odds of a reappearance.” 

He looks disarmed, uncomfortable. He looks at his Feeder longingly. “Well, miss, I don't know about that. I think we’d all have felt it by now. But, I’m still young. Only turned in the forties.” He shrugs.

“Do you know anyone who might know more?” You press.

“Benjamin!” Someone scolds. You look up to find a stern-looking blonde, who’s glaring at the boy you’d been speaking with. “You didn’t tell me we had newcomers.” Her glare is dangerous, her tone sickeningly sweet. She wipes a bit of blood off the corner of her mouth. “What did I tell you about newcomers?”

“S-sorry, Thalia. This is- ah, I didn’t catch your name?” Benjamin eyes you with panic.

Shit. “Uh-”

“Willa. Her name is Willa and I’m Natasha,” Natasha quickly saves. You give her a grateful smile before the blonde named Thalia scoffs.

“She’s from Europe,” Benjamin adds, cringing at Thalia’s expression.

“Didn’t realize they let their bloodwhores talk.” 

Uh oh. This is escalating quickly. Before Natasha can open her mouth again you interrupt sharply, “She’s my lover, actually.” Okay, not a good save judging by the gawking expressions on their faces. 

“You can actually control yourself?” Benjamin inquires, a little in awe. 

Why did I say that?? “Yeah, uh, can’t you?” Terrible save. Cover? Blown. Maybe you aren’t cut out for this new world, after all.

Thalia’s interest falls on you, at last. She studies you for a long moment, then turns to Natasha with open curiosity. The redhead doesn’t waver under those blood-red eyes, but you’re sure it’s making her uneasy. 

“I don’t see any marks on her neck,” Thalia notes, though not nearly as scrutinizing as she has been since you met her.

“They’re… other places.” You excuse, rather lamely. To your relief, Natasha’s blush is enough to make it believable. 

Benjamin and Thalia both exchange nervous looks before laughing. 

“You are a strange one,” Thalia comments, looking over her shoulder before lowering her voice. “Come with me. Both of you.” Benjamin gets ready to stand, but quickly sinks back into his seat when Thalia gives him a warning look. 

You grab Natasha’s hand, slotting your fingers together as you follow the woman through the rest of the lounge room. She leads you to what could have, at one point, been an office. Now, however, it’s some kind of small room full of comfortable chairs and numerous Feeders either napping or draped across the furniture with dazed expressions. 

“You always keep them in here?” You ask, trying to keep your tone light as the heavy door shuts behind you.

“Oh, you can drop the act,” Thalia crosses her arms and faces you with a wicked expression, lips curled into a smirk.

Your stomach drops. “W-what?”

“Please, I could sense you the moment you entered my Den.” She rolls her eyes, flashes her fangs. She looks hungrily at Natasha. “Nice touch, though; bringing the redhead.”

“Who are-”

“You don’t remember me?” Thalia tilts her head, jutting her bottom lip out in a pout. “And I thought I left quite the impression.”

You wrinkle your eyebrows in confusion. Come to think of it, yes, she does look rather familiar. But where have you seen her before? Your jaw goes slack as you recognize her. “Elizabet? Elizabet Petrikov?”

“In the flesh,” she motions towards her body with a sarcastic bark of laughter. “After you left to follow daddy, I got a little… mixed up in the wrong crowd.”

“Yeah, clearly.” You scoff, holding Natasha a bit closer to you. 

“Who is she?” The redhead asks, confused. 

“She was a witch.” You narrow your eyes at her. “Now, she isn’t.”

“I was more than a witch.” Her tone grows sour. “I helped you more than once, if I recall correctly - which I do.”

“Why are you here? In America?” You press.

She rolls her eyes with a noncommittal shrug. “After the death of the King, and your little path of death and destruction, most of the supernaturals in Europe retreated back to the Underworld.”

“You didn’t.”

“Death doesn’t suit me.” She chuckles. “Besides, I’m not the only one from the old days still around. I’m more interested in how you, a Helsing - no, the Helsing - are standing in front of me right here, right now, in the body of the creature you despise?”

“Long story.” You grumble.

“Oh, I know the story,” she grins. “It’s a legend among us, you know. You’re a legend.”

“I still don’t understand that.”

She tuts, approaches one of her more coherent Feeders with swaying hips. Her fingers cup his jaw, tilting his face up to look at her. He smiles, brightly, and she croons softly at him. “I know you don’t.”

“You sound like you do know.” You accuse.

She turns to you, holding up a palm. “You know I don’t give my information for free.”

You roll your eyes. “I don’t have time for this.”

“I want a taste of your friend,” she eyes Natasha hungrily again. 

You step in front of her. “No.”

“You can’t take the high-and-mighty road anymore,” Elizabet snorts. “You’re one of us now, and it’s only custom to participate in the rules of the Den.”

You scowl at her. “I’m not letting you feed from her.”

“Fine,” she shrugs. “Then you will leave with nothing. It’s obvious you came here for something, and you won’t get it until I know you’re one of us.”

“I’m not-”

Natasha says your name softly. You look at her with panic. “Why don’t you do it instead?” She asks in a hushed tone, though Elizabet or Thalia or whatever she wants to be called now can hear her. 

“Is- is that okay?” You ask, frowning. “I don’t want to hurt you, and I don’t want to like… fuck your head up.”

“Trust me,” she gives an encouraging smile. “I trust you.”

You look back to Elizabet. “Fine. If I feed from her, will you tell me whatever bullshit you have to tell me?”

Elizabet grins. “Watching you commit the biggest sin your old man could think of? Absolutely.”

You turn to Natasha again, taking a deep breath. “I’ll be quick, and I’ll be gentle.” You remove your hand from hers to place it firmly at her waist, the other moving to thread through long, coppery locks. “Are you sure this is okay?”

“Yup, perfectly fine,” Natasha’s voice cracks just a little, her eyes meeting yours as she gently tilts her head to the side. The sight should not be as attractive as it is - especially given your current situation - but there’s no denying the thrilling buzz that rolls through you at the sight.

You lower your lips to her neck, hearing her breath hitch as you give a gentle tug at her hair to expose more. You feel her pulse thrumming beneath warm skin, effectively clouding your mind into a numb sort of haze. It’s difficult to control the way your breath picks up, your pupils dilating just as your fangs extend and pierce Natasha’s skin.

She sucks in a harsh breath before letting out an involuntary groan. You feel her fingers digging into your back, her chest rising and falling quickly as the first droplets of blood land on your tongue. 

You almost moan at the feeling.

You almost have to force yourself to run your tongue over the puncture wounds before pulling away. You place a more gentle kiss on them before pulling away entirely, watching the redhead’s features for any sign of discomfort or pain. Instead, a smile is beginning to stretch across her red-painted lips. 

Green eyes meet yours, and they’re cloudy. “Oh, wow,” she breathes, almost uneasily. 

“Even a small dose can leave ‘em loopy,” Elizabet notes, still smirking. You release Natasha’s hair, but keep an arm around her waist when you turn back to the blonde. Natasha leans into you with a pleased hum. “Kind of neat, isn’t it?”

“I didn’t come here to chitchat.”

“You were always so focused on business,” Elizabet leans back down to the Feeder still in her grasp and feeds from him roughly. He grunts, then sighs, limbs going slack until she pulls away.

“When business involves myself becoming a revered legend among the creatures I spent my whole life killing, yes, I’m rather focused on it.” You hiss.

She rolls her eyes again. “I don’t know much about the legend itself. That is to say, I know approximately as much about it now as I did a century ago.”

Maybe it’s the rush of energy that had come to you by drinking Natasha’s blood, but you’re suddenly finding yourself far easier to anger. “You knew?” You snarl.

She waves her hand noncommittally. “I knew of a legend involving the Vampire King. I simply didn’t know who it involved.”

“And what was this legend?” It couldn’t have been the one he so vehemently believed in, could it? You never quite learned the entirety of it, though you wish you did, now. No doubt your father died knowing it like the back of his hand.

“I said I know of it,” she repeats, scoffing. “You haven’t changed, you know that? So impatient.” Before you open your mouth to retort, she speaks again: “But I do know someone who is well-versed in it. She’s quite famous in Paris, at the moment, but I know you have your ways.” She winks mischievously at you before moving to a nearby bookshelf. She tears off a piece of paper from a notebook, writes something down on it before handing it to you. 

“Thank you,” you don’t hide your annoyance as you take it and stuff it into your bra. 

“Consider it a favor for old times’ sake.” Elizabet eyes Natasha again, licking her lips. “If you come around again, be sure to bring her.”

You will definitely not be doing that. Ever.

You slip out of the room with Natasha in tow, still slow in her movements. You consider carrying her, but before you can do so, she bumps into a man’s shoulder. He turns to her with a wild anger in his gaze.

“Watch it, bloodwhore,” he spits.

Before you realize what you’re doing, you’ve shoved the man to the ground and have your heel pressed sharply into his back. “Listen here, schmuck, I’ve had a hell of a night. I will not let you talk like that to my friend here.” You press harder into him. “Now, apologize.”

He looks absolutely scared shitless. If you didn’t know any better, you’d think he knew who you are, but there’s no recognition in his gaze. Just fear. Like he’s pissed off the King of Vampires himself. 

“S-sorry, miss,” he stammers, looking at Natasha with terror.

Natasha giggles, a sound that is so much unlike her that you can’t help staring at her in horror. “God, you’re strong,” the redhead practically purrs, returning to your side as if you hadn’t just thrown a man to the ground. 

“Right,” you remove your heel. “Goodnight, then.”

Once you’re back out into the evening air, Natasha seems to clear her head a little. She looks at you with open curiosity, though when your eyes meet, she blushes and looks away. Her heart is hammering wildly in her chest.

“Okay,” you say once you’re a fair distance from the club. “What’s bothering you?”

“Nothing!” She clears her throat, blushing even harder. “It’s just- ah, I didn’t think… it would feel like that.”

“Yeah, well, you saw the people in there.” You suppress a shudder. “You don’t want to end up like that.”

“No, I know,” she looks away. “But, um… I mean, it felt… great, and I’m glad it was with you, and not… her.” She pauses. “How do you know her, anyway?”

“Why, are you jealous?”

“No!” Natasha rolls her eyes as you find your automobile. Er, car, as they call it these days. “I’m just curious.”

“We met through work,” you shrug. “Witches were open to more… sapphic activities, wherein others in society were not.” You leave it at that, opening the driver’s side door. “Are you alright to drive?”

She scoffs. “I’m fine. I just feel like I had an orgasm, though.”

You actually choke at that. “What?”

Her eyes widen. “I thought you knew what it felt like?”

“Harkon didn’t exactly consider giving me a dose of endorphins when he bit me. I’m pretty sure he wanted me to suffer.”

“Oh,” she starts the car once you get in. “Well, it feels really, really good. My arms and legs are still a little jelly-ish.”

You snort. “Well, next time I feel like giving a woman an unintentional orgasm, I’ll let you know.”

“Why don’t you make it intentional?” She wiggles her eyebrows suggestively, and you can’t help but laugh.

“Keep it in your pants, Romanoff. We’ve got a lead to follow up on.”

- - - - next chapter - - - -

♡ Tags ♡ @nobody13​ @fireflyglass @swords-are-cool​ @artapdarkstr @pasta-bandit​ @multi-images​ @blackxwidowsxwife​ @bebe404​ @fayhar​ @darkangelxoxo

#This fic is gon be long #on the bright side the slowburn isn't so agonizing to wait for #also everyone who reads my tags??? #yall are my fav i just rant down here #sure ig i could use twitter but i use that to argue w conservatives so i cant let them have ammo on me #ALSO THIS IS MY 69TH POST LMFAOOO #my shield arrives tmrw so i have serotonin!! rn!! #ALKSDF #ok now we have boring tags #natasha romanoff imagine #natasha romanoff x reader #natasha romanoff x you #black widow imagine #black widow x reader #black widow x you #wlw imagine #gxg imagine #nobody13 #fireflyglass #swords-are-cool #artapdarkstr #pasta-bandit #multi-images #blackxwidowsxwife #bebe404 #fayhar #darkangelxoxo

[a-wonderful-use-of-server-space]

December 11, 1921 The Captain & the Kids by Rudolph Dirks

TOP PANEL: [An organ grinder grinds out "For There's No Place Like Home" on his box, placed right next to an open window where der Captain is sitting. The organ grinder's monkey holds up a cup for der Captain to give money to. The Kids stand at the side of the house, behind the corner, laughing.]

MAIN COMIC: [Der Captain, Mama, der Inspector and the Kids arrive back home after their long misadventure. They notice two people living there in their absence: an old man reading the paper on a hammock on the porch and his son (Gottlieb), who stands in front of him with wild hair, buck teeth and a dress.] Mama: Home again, Captain. Und der old house looks still der sameness!! Der Captain: From der outside, chass! But sumting seems to tell me mit dem sub-letters, all ain't vell!! Der Inspector: Phooy! Such a lazy loafer, chust look! Better make sure all der foinishings ain't on der fritz, Cap!! Daughter: Oh, Pa. Hans: Vun look at dot face, Fritz, und don't I know vot spells mischief?

[The family confronts their subletters inside.] Hans: My kid' car, look!! Inspector: Excuse me folks, but I t'ink I'll check up der cellar! Captain [holding a broken stein]: My two quart vun, chust look, Mamma! Dunder, didn't I said vot vould happen mit a fambly mit kids? Yah! Sub-Letter: Oh, I say old chap, don't get nawsty now. I'm sure my little Gottlieb knows nothing about it! Mama: Hmm! Better I look der kitchen upside down und make sure all iss vell by me!! [While everyone's distracted, Gottlieb nails Mama's dress to the curtains.]

[As Mama moves to leave, part of her dress tears off on the nail. Gottlieb, behind the curtains, laughs at his own antics.] Mama: EEK! Gottlieb: Haw!

[Mama angrily calls for the Kids, who stand in front of her, confused. They drop a toy rifle, whose barrel has been twisted into a knot. Gottlieb keeps laughing. Der Captain and Gottlieb's father walk off into another room.] Mama: Hans, Fritz, loafers! Come here diss minute you hear it! Kids: HUH? Sub-Letter: Now then, old dear, don't lose your 'ead. We'll just look around a bit and make sure the bloomin' place is alright, eh?

[Mama bends the Kids over her knee and spanks them. Gottlieb keeps standing right in front of them and giggling.] Mama: How many times must I say stop der mischief!! Gottlieb: Ha-ha, that's the time I fooled them slickers! Haw!!

[Mama drops the two off her knee, crying and sore. She storms off. Gottlieb points and laughs at them.] Mama: Und I varn you, any more monkey-shiners, und I bet me it giffs sumting smart!! Hans: BAW. Fritz: SO? Gottlieb: Tee-hee, smarties. Did y'never git left? Ha-ho! It serves y' right!!

[Der Captain inspects the shower while Gottlieb and his father watch on. The Kids, incensed, reach for the shower handle from outside an open window.] Sub-Letter: There you are old chap, you can see for y'self, there's not a leak in the plumbin' and I never allows my child to fiddle with these things! Captain: No? Hans: Lummox! Gottlieb: What's up, Pa?

[The Kids pull the handle and run off, drenching der Captain.] Sub-Letter & Gottlieb: ?

[Der Captain shuts off the water while Gottlieb leans out the open window to get a sight of the Kids running off.] Sub-Letter: Gottlieb, Gottlieb, answer me this instand, did you do that? Captain: Did he did it? Oh no!! Only chust like der rest vot he done!!

[Der Captain bends Gottlieb over his knee and spanks him.] Sub-Letter: Oh, I say. Captain: Sure! Und ven comes such bitzness by me, chust like Hans und Fritz, he gets it!!

[Der Captain kicks the Sub-Letter and his son out of the house while Hans & Fritz dance and sing by the front door, celebrating their removal.] Captain: Now get oudt, und stay oudt. Before I forget who am I!! Hans: ♫Oh, dey vemt oudt mitout a kick, vem der landlord kicked dem oudt♫ Fritz: ♫Rum, tum♫

[The family sits in the living room, finally home. Der Captain ponders his situation in a chair, der Inspector pours water out of the handle of a shovel into a cup, the Kids sit on the floor reading out of a songbook, and Mama carries a large tub filled with broken chinaware.] Captain: Bah! Der looney vot wrote, "Home Sveet Home" by chimbly, must of been a bachelor!! Inspector: Yep, Cap'. Efferyt'ing iss alright by me! Look!! Mama: Oo, hoo. Chust look my chinavare, Captain! Hans: Now der last verse ofer Fritz. ♫"Oh, d'eres no place..."♫

#newspaper comics #1921 #history #vintage #the katzenjammer kids #transcript available

[sapphireginger]

Title: Mama’s Song

Ship(s): Gen

Rating: Teen & Up

Square: B2

Prompt: Sarah Rogers

Tags:  No Archive Warnings Apply Human AU Aged Down Steve Rogers Sick Sarah Rogers

Summary:

“Sleep, mama.”

Sarah hummed softly, her eyes fluttering shut. “Would you sing for me, my shooting star?”

With a thick swallow, his throat clicking with emotion, Steve inhaled sharply. “Sure, mama. What song?”

“My song, please?”

AO3 Link

@allcapsbingo​

The winter he turned eight, had been long and bleak. Steve was disappointed that he didn’t get to see Bucky as much as he usually did. It was okay though, because he was needed at home. He blew into his hands, rubbing them together to rid the chill as best he could. Then he wrapped his coat tighter around him and tucked his feet under the small blanket he always had with him. Steve used to think it made him weak or something to carry it around, but Bucky said no one is weak for needing comfort. It was something Steve needed to hear, and his best friend knew that. With a sigh, his eyes flickered over the seemingly endless sea of white. He really missed his best friend.

At the sound of a cough, he turned away from the window and moved over toward the bed. Little hands tucked the quilt tighter around his mama, not wanting her to get cold. 

Two years ago, his mama had gotten sick and a year ago, she was bedridden. His papa, Joseph, said he was going out hunting and just never came back. It was fine and while Steve was upset at his papa leaving him, he knew he could look after his mama. Being man of the house at the age of six had been hard but now at the age of eight, he had everything down pat.

Another cough brought him out of his thoughts, his blue eyes settling on his mama. “Mama?” he whispered.

Her eyes fluttered open, slowly, and it took a lot out of her to do so. “Hello, my shooting star.” Her voice was hoarse, and he quickly helped her drink some water. “How is Bucky? Did Joseph come back with dinner?”

That was another thing that made Steve’s heart ache. His mama was losing her memory. The books in their small little nook didn't help him get any answers and when the doctor was able to come last fall, he had no idea why she was forgetting things. 

Still, Steve put on a brave face and spoke softly. “Bucky went on a trip with his family, mama. He’ll come see me at the end of winter.” He wanted to stop there but as she always did, his mama asked again about Joseph. Steve stopped calling him dad the moment he abandoned them.

“He left us, mama.” He kept his voice gentle and watched her closely. He had learned quickly that she never took it well. “He’s been gone for over a year.”

Her face shuttered and she turned her head to look out the window. “I’m tired, Stevie.”

Steve nodded and stood up. He placed a kiss on her forehead and checked once more to be sure she was warm, comfortable and tucked the quilt tighter around her. It was something he did multiple times a day. He may have been able to do the cleaning, cooking and mending but repair was harder. The snow had been too thick and deep for him to wade out and fix a small loose board in the roof.

“Sleep, mama.”

Sarah hummed softly, her eyes fluttering shut. “Would you sing for me, my shooting star?”

With a thick swallow, his throat clicking with emotion, Steve inhaled sharply. “Sure, mama. What song?”

“My song, please?”

A nod, that she could not see, was his response before he settled on the edge of the bed and took her hand in his. 

♫ ♫ ♫

“Close your tired eyes, relax, and then Count from one to ten and open them All these heavy thoughts will try to weigh you down But not this time…”

“Way up in the air, you're finally free And you can stay up there right next to me All this gravity will try to pull you down But not this time…”

“When the sun goes down and the lights burn out Then it's time for you to shine Brighter than a shooting star So shine no matter where you are Fill the darkest night with a brilliant light 'Cause it's time for you to shine Brighter than a shooting star So shine no matter where you are tonight…”

♫ ♫ ♫

Steve’s breath hitched, his eyes welling with tears. When he was barely even two, his mama had written the song just for him. She had always said he was the answer to her greatest wish. He was her shooting star and he thought back to his seventh birthday, the last one before his mama began to forget things. They had been curled up in the living room and watched the starry sky twinkle with a thousand lights.

═ ⋆★⋆ ═

“Make a wish, Stevie. Wish on a shooting star,” she had whispered to him as though it was a secret just for them.

He had waited and as soon as he saw the star shoot across the sky, he closed his eyes and wished.

“Did you make a wish?”

“Yes, mama.”

She smiled and kissed his forehead, her arm around him as she pulled him closer to her side. He snuggled against her side as he thought about his wish. 

‘I wish for mama to get better and for her to be truly happy again.’

═ ⋆★⋆ ═

A hand slipping into his, drew Steve from the memory and he kissed his mama’s small frail hand. He sniffled softly and finished singing his mama’s song.

♫ ♫ ♫

“Whoa-oh, whoa-oh, whoa-oh Brighter than a shooting star Shine no matter where you are…”

♫ ♫ ♫

His breath hitched again, the last word coming out in barely a whisper.

“Tonight.”

The wind picked up outside their small home in the woods, and as her breathing evened out, Steve couldn’t hold back the tears anymore. He just wanted her to get better and let him be a kid again. It made him feel guilty to have such thoughts and feelings, but he was only eight years old and had been so strong for two whole years. There were things he needed to clean, chores to do and food to cook but none of it mattered at the moment.

Blue eyes were glued to his mama’s sleeping face. Only in her sleep did she look peaceful, and only then could he forget, for just a little while, that nothing was the same as it had been two years ago. It was always quiet, too quiet, but as sad as he was, he was grateful that she was still alive, and he still had a mama. The day when he wouldn’t have his mama anymore, was terrifying to think about. So, he shoved all those sad thoughts aside and curled up next to her. Steve settled in a small ball against her side and shivered slightly as his breathing even out.

He was so tired and that always seemed to be the case now. His eyes fluttered shut to the lullaby made just for him. The howling wind, the dripping faucet, the soft inhales, the sharp exhales and the beating of a heart full of love, the melody that lulled him to sleep.

#allcapsbingo2023 #allcapsbingo #marvel #steve rogers #sarah rogers #MCU #marvel fanfiction #alternate universe - human #winter #bucky barnes (mentioned) #joseph rogers (mentioned)