mrsbarnes32557038

[mrsbarnes32557038]

This absolutely has the same energy and I love it with all of my heart.

Happy birthday to our fave Brooklyn boy ❤️❤️

[mrsbarnes32557038]

This was lovely! I've been away from Tumblr for a little while so don't mind me as I catch up on what you've written and leave you lots of supportive and possibly thirsty comments ❤️

A Quiet Storm [Loki x Reader]

A Link to my Masterlist is HERE Summary: A stormy morning and a sleepy Loki in your bed. Warnings: 18+ Minors DNI. Loki x Female Reader. Established relationship. Mild somnophilia. Light, fluffy smut. (w/c 1.2k)

Wind batters against the windows. It buffets the eighty-seventh story with the strength of a god’s fury, rattling the glass.

Rain sounds like hailstones. It has done for the past twelve hours. And it's beautiful, in a primal sort of way. It lulled you to sleep, alone. But as you try to snuggle deeper into the duvet, you realise that most of it is missing.

Turning, you find a familiar wall of pale muscle. You smile softly. No wonder you felt so safe in the storm. He came in at some point during the night, careful not to wake you. But despite his good intentions, Loki is a chronic bedsheet thief. Always has been.

Dull light makes a faint line across his body, from his neck and over the thick of his back. Loki’s hair spreads against his pillow like ink on fresh towels, curling and winding its tendrils into every available space. Your nose traces the sharp line of one shoulder-blade, inhaling the warmth that lingers on his skin.

He showered. Steve said it might be a messy one last night.

The god is facing away from you, one leg draped over the other, bedsheets trapped between his thighs. The room is cold, and the more you awaken, the more you notice the ripple of goose-bumps bristling up your calves.

Loki is fast asleep, that’s plain enough. The portion of his torso visible above the sheets is rising and falling steadily. Peacefully.

Rain slaps against the glass, another gust of winter gale howling around the panes. Without looking, you know that one arm will be tucked under his pillow, the other bent at a way that makes his triceps bulge in that effortlessly sensual way. You place a sleepy kiss between his shoulders, no more than an angels touch. And with all the care you can muster, you try to tug the sheets in your direction.

Loki stirs, groaning with unintelligible annoyance. You snuggle closer, squashing your cheek against the hard expanse of his back. Fingers creep tentatively over the ridges of his abdomen, pausing to ghost the solid dent of his obliques. His breaths rise and fall in undisturbed slumber.

The hand comes to rest in the centre of his chest. You can feel his heartbeat, the same as your own. One leg rises and slips beneath the sheet he hoards, your thigh finding its home against his hipbone. Loki’s perfect ass presses against your lower belly, the increasing heat from your exposed sex millimetres from his skin. One calf lies flush against his, bent at an angle. Tangled over him. “Mornhnigk.” he grumbles sweetly, voice thick with sleep.

He’s not awake, not really. You smile against his neck, closing your eyes.

Nuzzling into his hair, you appreciate that this is the god you see. This is the Loki you see. The one who feels safe in your bed. The one who feels safe in your love.

Another kiss finds its way pressed against his hair. You nose rogue strands aside, capturing the edge of his delicate earlobe between your lips with a gentle sigh. He smells so good, like fresh cotton and your shower-gel.

He came straight here, you think, heart skipping as you imagine him striding from the Quinjet in darkness and making a beeline for your apartment. Stripping off in your bathroom, not his own. His leathers a tangled heap on your hallway floor, no doubt. He came straight home.

Irresistible. That's what he is. Even if you wanted to leave him be, not touch him, adore him, you don't think you could. The quiet storm of love you have for him rages inside you with all the ferocity of the one outside. Unstoppable. Undeniable.

Loki’s back arches slightly as he works his face deeper into the pillow. It presses his muscular ass into your crotch. Your fingers slip down his stomach, pads catching on the silken trail of fine hairs leading towards his groin. Heat increases as you move closer to his centre, radiating from his skin. Suddenly aware of how cold your hands must be, you flinch as the head of his cock brushes your pinky. The tip is slightly wet.

He’s usually horny as hell when he comes back from missions. It must have taken all his willpower not to wake you. Or at least resist the urge to hold you, burying his erection between the curve of your cheeks. The thought of his gentlemanly resistance makes your stomach flip with desire.

A small sigh escapes him as you trail a solitary digit up his velvet cock, tall and strong against his stomach. You’ll never get used to how soft the skin is. Chalk and cheese to the way he can make you cum as he rails you masterfully with the force of a wild tempest. The finger catches on the thick vein that runs to the root, and you play with it, grazing up and down its route with a ghost-like touch. Loki sighs again, shoulder-blades twitching.

Needy fingers wrap around his girth, squeezing gently.

Loki purrs. A low, rumbling sound which chimes with the patter of raindrops against glass. His cock twitches in your hold, eager for his mistress’s adoration as you trace your delicate grip to the tip. The god’s hips thrust lightly into your hold, rocking himself deeper into the tantalisingly pleasure his sleeping form finds itself. His foreskin gathers beneath your fingers as you massage gently, before sliding it back down.

Loki gasps. The mattress shifts as your lover’s waking body turns with care, shoulder muscles clenching as he pushes up against the bed and lays on his back. One of his hands stretches up and slides behind his head while your own continues its slow pump of his swollen cock beneath the covers. So slowly, back and forth.

He blinks several times, watching the work of your hand before his sultry stare finds your own. His eyes flash, still hooded from dreams. “Did you miss me?” he asks groggily, knowing the answer. Loki leans forward, kissing you deep. His warm tongue searches your own, strands of his wild hair sticking to your lips. You can feel his lower body clench and jolt as your strokes grow firmer, his left hand itching against the sheets as he clenches and unclenches a fist.

A particularly ferocious wave of wind slaps against the window, making you flinch. Your hand grips his cock even tighter, making him hiss with pleasure.

As you loosen, Loki’s brow furrows in feigned pity. “Are you scared, little one?” he purrs. It’s tipped with loving condescension in that filthy way that only he could muster. “Do you need a big, strong god to to protect you as the realm’s elements rage?” You bite your lip to stifle a smile, nodding. “So scared,” you confirm in a girlish whisper. Loki sniffs, raising his chin. He looks down from half-lidded eyes, un-styled locks of curl falling around his jaw. “Come then,” he utters, moving the hand behind his head to pat your pillow. “We must ensure you are thoroughly...protected.” You squirrel down in to the blankets, facing away from him while he draws you near. His throbbing cock pulses against your ass, against your thighs, searching kisses working a trail up the curve of your neck.

“I will always protect you,” he mutters earnestly as you feel a hand slip between your bodies.

The crown of his manhood slides against your entrance, slipping against wetness. He hums contentedly, nudging the tip as you clench around air. Loki's body melts against yours like a finger dipped in wax. His abdominal muscle pulses against your back as he tries to steady his breaths.

In moments, a dark moan floods your ear as he squeezes inside. The feeling of peace is immediate. Loki stills, breathing softly against your skin.

“Always,” he groans quietly as he bottoms out.

He only withdraws an inch with every careful thrust, rocking you gently as you move against him. With him. You’re vaguely aware of his dexterous fingers toying with a nipple, the suck of his kiss on your neck, the happy sounds of your own moans as he fucks you in rippling waves.

All the world dissolves. All you hear is the white noise of his loving praise. His delicate pleasures. Safety.

All there is, is him. And outside, the storm rages on.

Tags (contd in comments)

@lokischambermaid @meowmeow-motherfucker @gigglingtiggerv2 @imalovernotahater @littledark11 @lokikissesmyforehead @simplyholl @fictive-sl0th @thedistractedagglomeration @loopsisloops @glitchquake @holdmytesseract @jaidenhawke @fandxmslxt69 @morriggannlostinfandoms @marygoddessofmischief @sebstanwhore @xorpsbane @peacefulpianist @yelkmelk @mistress-ofmagic @acidcasualties @ozymdias @your-taste-on-my-lips @lokidokieokie @kikster606 @peachyjinx @tbhiddlestan83 @trickster-maiden @skymoonandstardust @justjoanne242 @thenotoriouserg @ladyofthestayingpower @brittbax @smolvenger @liminalpebble @joyful-enchantress @kaleenjackson @fictional-hooman @kellatron55 @icytrickster17 @multifandom-worlds @buttercupcookies-blog

#loki x reader #loki smut #loki laufeyson #loki fanfiction #loki fanfic #loki x reader smut #loki x female reader #loki x you #loki x you smut #loki x yn #loki fluff

[mrsbarnes32557038]

I've been away for a bit and I am welcomed back with this perfection! You're giving me more Lakes and spreading much needed Satchel cheer ❤️🤍💙

I started the Satchel Steve series the other day. Then last night I was running errands and the radio dj announced that these abominations are being marked as "belted satchels." I could not stop laughing.

I

Am

HOWLING

I feel like the whole Satchel Steve situation is encoded into a few of my core mutuals from way back when and the rest of you guys are like

(but it comes from here -he's basically the first Steve I wrote and is now my entire HC of Steve I just can't with him any other way))

So THANK YOU for taking the plunge into his world, full of so much embarrassment and Loki related desire 😂💼 long may he reign. Although i think a belted satchel might send him over the edge.

Actually no, because in his book...all satchels should be belted!!Lest they be sneezed in😂

#major satchelage #you know how i feel about him

[mrsbarnes32557038]

"His name spilling from your lips was still one of his favorite sounds."

This was just so sweet and fluffy and fuzzy and warm and I loved every moment of it!!!

I wish I had a smitten Bucky. Just sees me and wants me. 🥺

I know the feeling, nonnie.

Check Yes or No

Pairing: Bucky Barnes x Female Reader

Summary: Bucky instantly falls for you, but waits to ask you out.

Word Count: Over 2.1k

Warnings: Fluff, could be seen as instalove on Bucky's side, attraction, slight insecurities, minor time jump, Alpine being the best, slight feels (it's me), Bucky Barnes (he's a warning, okay?).

A/N: I can't send Bucky your way, lovelies, so I hope you enjoy this short, surprise fic! ❤️ Not beta read and written on my phone, so any and all mistakes are my own. Please follow @navybrat817-sideblog for new fics and notifications. Comments, reblogs, feedback are loved and appreciated!

Bucky wasn't looking for love the day he met you, but it found him anyway.

“Hey, Buck,” Steve greeted from his seat when he walked into the conference rooms and nodded to the spot beside him that you occupied. “I’d like you to meet our newest transfer. She’s also moving into the Tower.”

He was a changed man the moment your eyes met. Breathtaking was a word to describe you given how he had forgotten to breathe. He had witnessed many sunrises and sunsets in his life, a kaleidoscope of colors painted in the sky to both soothe and awaken the soul. They paled in comparison to the beauty before him.

Once glance and he belonged to you completely.

“Hi, Bucky. It’s nice to meet you.”

While he wasn't sure if Heaven existed, you speaking his name was like hearing the voice of an angel.

“I’m Bucky.”

Of all the things he could've said, reiterating his name was what his mouth went with.

Instead of giving him a weird look or brushing him off when he scowled at himself, you smiled. “I look forward to us working together.”

Bucky couldn't tell you what the meeting was about that day, but he remembered the details about you. The way you leaned forward in your seat to pay extra attention when someone else spoke, also giving him an ample view of your chest before he reminded himself not to stare. The slight crease in your forehead when you jotted down an important note. And the soft giggle you let out when Steve cracked a joke.

He suddenly wished he was funnier.

“Have a good rest of the day, Bucky,” you said when the meeting ended.

Bucky didn't have to try to smile with you. It just came naturally. When you smiled back, it was easy to imagine what it would be like if you were his girl.

“You, too,” he replied, giving himself a mental victory for not screwing up his words this time. “Wait!”

You paused and looked at him expectantly. “Yeah?”

Bucky realized he had no reason to keep you from leaving. He just didn't want you to go. “Do you need help moving your stuff in?”

“I actually got my things moved in late last night, but thanks for the offer,” you replied, checking the time with wide eyes. “I'm so sorry. I have to go. I’m in 2L if you need anything!”

“Bye,” he called after you, turning in his chair to watch you go.

How did he miss you already?

Though Steve had a knowing look in his eyes, he graciously kept his mouth shut as he left the room. He reminded him an hour later that he wouldn't break any bylaws by asking you out. The punk somehow knew that you weren't seeing anyone.

Which made him happy.

While he appreciated Steve looking out for happiness, he still had to get his head on straight.

“Once I completely trust my own mind, maybe I will,” Bucky said, even though the stuff was already out of his head. He owed it to himself to take his time. And you.

Imagine his surprise when he found a note from you on his door the next day.

Hey, Bucky! Lunch on me today? Check YES or NO.

The lopsided grin on his face wouldn't go away when he read it again. You must've been interested in him enough to ask about him. How else did you know his apartment number? Why else would you ask him to lunch?

He nearly shouted “YES” in the hall before he came to his senses and simply checked the option before he returned the note to your apartment door.

When he met up with you later, he told himself it wasn't a date. It couldn't be, right? It didn't keep his heart from stopping when you answered your door. Dressed down and casual, you looked like an angel went to Earth just for him.

“Hey, Bucky,” you smiled. “Ready to go?”

He hadn't said much on the way to the cafe since he was too busy hanging on to your every word, but it was like he had known you for ages as you carried on the conversation. Your questions weren't invasive and you didn't seem to mind the occasional short answers. It was also the shortest meal of his life, over too soon for his liking, and he also refused to let you pay for his meal.

He wanted to show you that gentlemen still existed.

“Lunch again next week?” You offered.

“Sure,” he answered, his head spinning from giddiness.

But it wasn't a date.

It was time to change that.

Today was the day. Six months from the day he met you. Six months of chatting with you between missions and slowly getting to know you over weekly lunches. Six months of falling for you more and more each day and he finally worked up the courage to ask you out.

But falling was the easy part. Confessing was an entirely different story. He would either crash to the ground and hope his wounds would later heal or you’d catch him as he fell. No matter what, he wouldn't let his nerves get the better of him.

“Just like we practiced, okay?” Bucky asked.

“Meow.”

Alpine nuzzled her head against Bucky’s with a gentle purr when he huffed. She was his little partner-in-crime through and through. Like you, even though you didn't realize it, the little white ball of fur helped save him. He was fairly certain he wasn't supposed to bring her to this floor, but any reprimand would be worth it.

Besides, the Tower, office, anywhere they operated should allow them to have their pets with them, especially for emotional support.

“I'm counting on you,” he teased, placing the folded up piece of paper in her mouth. “Go.”

He peeked around the corner when he set Alpine down. The sun illuminated you from where you sat in the lounge, curled up in your normal spot on the sofa. You liked to relax there occasionally to read. He wondered what book you had with you today.

Thankfully, no one was around to disturb you.

Except for him.

“Alpine, is that you?” You asked when you looked up, closing the book as the cat approached you. While the feline was cautious of some, she warmed up to you immediately when you met and solidified that you were the one for him. “Whatcha got there? Where’s Bucky?”

His name spilling from your lips was still one of his favorite sounds.

He held his breath when Alpine jumped up beside you, opened her mouth, and dropped the paper in your lap. He immediately began to second guess himself when you unfolded it with a furrowed brow. Why did he think this was a good idea? Why didn't he just ask you like a normal guy?

To be fair, he hadn't been normal for some time.

“Will you go out with me? Check YES or NO. Love, Bucky,” you read out loud with a huge smile, which was enough to make his heart race. You giggled a moment later when Alpine bumped your hand, the soft noise making his stomach do a funny sort of flip. “Okay, okay. Let me get my pen out of my bag.”

Bucky exhaled a little as he moved to stand in the doorway. You didn't toss the paper away, so that had to be a good sign. He carefully kept himself from showing any outward emotion when you met his gaze, but his knees nearly gave out. His palms also began to sweat when you gave him a half smile.

Just when he thought you couldn't look more beautiful than you had the day before, you proved him wrong.

He ran a hand through his hair and hoped he looked halfway decent since he hadn't brushed it. But you commented a few weeks back that you liked it long when you saw an old photo, so he wanted to grow it out. He lost count of how many times he imagined your fingers in his hair

Maybe one day.

Watching you grab your pen, it was like he was drowning. The tide pulled him under as you made a mark on the sheet. His lungs burned when you handed it back to Alpine. He couldn't come up for air. He couldn't breathe.

Until you smiled again.

“Thanks, Alpine,” you said.

His cat gracefully walked back to Bucky and he swore he caught you trying not to giggle as she climbed up his leg. His heart hammered in his chest when he took the slip of paper from her mouth. Meeting your tender gaze, he couldn't bring himself to open it though.

After he told himself he wouldn't let his nerves get the better of him.

“Not going to see what my answer is?” You asked as he carried Alpine into the lounge.

“I want to,” he replied, sighing as he took a seat beside you. His cat was perfectly content to lay in his lap. “But I’m questioning if I did this the right way.”

The note you gave him for a simple lunch request may have been a small gesture in your eyes, but it meant the world to him. He thought by asking you out this way that he could give you something meaningful in return. Something that only the two of you shared.

That was all he wanted.

You turned toward him, your knee touching his. The small touch sent heat down his spine. “Open it and you’ll find out.”

He nodded, thankful that his vibranium hand didn't shake as he lifted the sheet. “Wait, let me say something before I do.”

The corner of your lip tugged as you tried not to smile. “Bucky-”

“I like you. I really like you. I have since the day we met. And I'm going to like you tomorrow. And the day after that and the day after that,” he admitted in a rush, catching your sharp inhale as he looked into your eyes. “But I know my past isn't easy to deal with. If you just want to be a teammate or colleague, that’s okay. Just. Being a part of your life in some way is more than enough.”

Alpine lifted her head and looked between the two of you, as if she was waiting with baited breath to see what would happen next.

Bucky felt a crack in his heart when you didn't speak or react, his body slumping slightly into the couch. It was okay. He took a chance and told you how he felt. He wouldn't force you to reciprocate.

“Bucky?” You asked above a whisper, reaching over to help him unfold the paper. He gasped when he saw the checkmark beside “YES”, blinking rapidly to make sure you picked that box. “I really like you, too.”

“You do?” He exhaled, grasping your hand with renewed joy. He was careful not to squeeze too hard. Hurting you was the last thing he ever wanted to do.

“Yeah. Pretty much since the day I met you,” you admitted, glancing in your lap before you met his gaze again. He saw stars in your eyes. “And your past isn't your fault, Bucky. You aren't something to ‘deal with’, okay? You’re a good man. I can give you a whole list of reasons if you need it.”

Physically, Bucky’s body was in peak condition. Your confession, however, caused all of the air to leave his lungs and made him weak in the best possible way. A familiar warmth moved through Bucky’s veins as he breathed again and it dawned on him at that moment that he hadn't felt cold since you walked into his life.

Not once.

Your faith in him gave him strength. Your mere existence gave him the courage to try. And he didn't have to go it alone.

“Wow,” he breathed, relieved and elated as he gave you a small smile. “How about tomorrow night?”

“It’s a date,” you smiled.

“Great,” he smiled back. A date. He couldn't wait to see the look on Steve's face when he told him that he finally asked you out.

“And I think the note was purrfect,” you teased at Alpine before you scrunched up your face. “I ruined the moment, didn't I?”

Bucky brought your hand to his mouth, kissing it as gently as he possibly could. He could hear your heart race. So was his. “Not at all.”

He knew it was too soon to say he loved you and it was likely too soon for you to feel that way about him, but he felt hope in your smile that you would one day.

For now, he had a date to plan all because you checked “yes”.

We know it'll be the best date ever, right? Love and thanks for reading! 💙

Masterlist ⚓ Bucky Barnes Masterlist ⚓ Ko-Fi

#i love him so much #i will love him forever #bucky barnes x reader #bucky x reader #bucky fluff #bucky barnes fanfiction #bucky barnes x you #bucky fanfic

[mrsbarnes32557038]

Yay!! I loved this part so much. You wrote Loki's anxiety about revealing the truth and his self loathing incredibly well, I could feel it. Reader's reaction was so loving and I'm glad we don't need to murder Thor to be queen!

Thrown - Chapter 44: Birthright

Summary: Loki wrestles with an old insecurity

Word Count: 1,724

Thrown Masterlist Loki Masterlist

Loki's fingers trailed over your bare thigh then paused to gently squeeze the soft flesh. You wore a lazy smile as Loki lay stretched next to you, until you suddenly winced and gasped. You cried out in pain and flinched away. Startled, Loki sat up quickly, trying to find the source of your distress. He looked down at his hand. It was blue. Your skin where he touched you was burned. "Darling, I-" he looked to your face. It was twisted in fear. You were afraid of him.

Loki woke in his bed. His bed. He was alone. It had been one of the rare nights he didn't stay with you, and for once he was grateful. He shut his eyes and tried to push the dream away. It was hard to forget the fear in your eyes. He glanced out the window. It was early morning. He might as well get up.

While his tea steeped Loki wallowed in his shame. He had never told you what he was. He should have made it known. It felt deceitful. Norns, he had taken you to bed without telling you what he was. You certainly deserved better than that.

Thor came down the stairs and found Loki still at the table, now with a cold cup of tea. They passed their normal morning greetings and Loki watched his brother rifle through their cabinets for breakfast.

"Thor, I need to ask you something." "Yes?" Thor did not look up from the cereal he was pouring. "How did you react, when you found out about my true heritage?" Thor chuckled. "To tell you the truth, I was much more distraught over your recent death." Loki sighed. "Yes, certainly, but aside from that?" Thor looked over at Loki. "Why do you ask?"

Loki looked at Thor and there was only silence. Thor's shoulders slumped. "Oh, Loki." He sighed. "I know." Thor's brow twisted in confusion. "How is it even possible, after all this time?" Loki shrugged. "It simply never came up." Thor shot him a skeptical look. "Perhaps I guided our conversations away from certain topics." Loki muttered and fiddled with his idle tea.

Thor stood pensive for a moment. "Don't worry yourself over it." "I lied to her." Thor scoffed. "You didn't. And besides, are you not the God of Lies? I imagine she is willing to forgive some dishonesty." Loki glowered at the table. "I should have told her what I am." "She knows what you are. It's your lineage she's made some assumptions about." Thor stated firmly as he sat down across from Loki. "To answer your question, it didn't change the way I thought of you. It changed the way I thought of the Jötnar." He took a bite of his breakfast. "Though it did shed some light on a few of your actions." Loki couldn't bring himself to look at his brother. The wasted tea held his attention instead. "I think, perhaps, you should see her this morning. I can do without you for a few hours." Loki's heart wrenched at the thought of facing you with this. However, he recognized he couldn't avoid it. You should have known already. "I think that's wise."

**

As Loki trudged down the road to your home he tried to identify exactly how he was feeling. He knew, deep down beneath everything else, that you would love him regardless. Somehow that made it worse. You wouldn't have the context to understand what he had kept from you. He wouldn't be able to explain how despicable it was, and you would dismiss it like was nothing.

Despite knowing logically that you would still have him, there was still a part of him that feared you wouldn't. He remembered your terror from his dream. A small, ugly voice in his mind said you would be right to fear him. He deserved to lose you. He never deserved to have you in the first place.

He stood on your porch and hesitated for a moment at the door. He took a breath then stepped inside. You startled on the couch, but your surprise quickly gave way to a smile.

"Loki?" You set your coffee down and stood. "What are you doing here? I wasn't expecting to see you until dinner." He kept his distance and avoided your touch. "I needed to speak with you." Worry crossed your face. "Okay." He gestured to the couch and you took your seat. After a moment of deliberation he sat beside you. "I haven't told you everything about myself." "Well, that's a relief. I haven't told you everything about myself either." You attempted a weak smile. Loki shook his head. "This is something important." His voice stalled out. He suddenly wasn't sure where to begin. "I think you should just tell me." You said quietly.

He nodded and pushed forward. "Do you recall, I told you of the time I fell from Asgard, into the abyss?" You nodded. He looked down. "My fall, I didn't- it was... intentional." Your face fell and your hands reached out, grasping him, as if you could catch him now. You dear creature. "It's alright, it's alright." He took your hands as you clung to him. You started to say something but he shook his head. "The reason is what I need to tell you." He found himself looking down at your hands, turning them over in his. "There were many reasons, I suppose. But I had traveled down a sort of spiral into madness. This spiral was triggered, largely, by a revelation about my heritage." He met your eyes. "I am not Asgardian." Your brows were knitted as you processed this. "So... Thor?" "We are not brothers by blood. Odin found me, abandoned as an infant and raised me as his son. I was born on Jötunheim." He swallowed. "I am Jötunn." "Oh." You ruminated on this for a moment. "Okay."

He looked down again. "I should have told you sooner." "Hey, it's fine." You bent in an attempt to meet his line of sight. "It's really okay. I came to terms with having feelings for an alien a long time ago. It's really not much of an adjustment to switch from one alien to another." He looked away. "You don't understand. The Jötnar, they are savage. Enemies of Asgard. The monster in every children's story." You grabbed his face and forced him to look your way. "You are not a monster." "I tried to kill them." He was surprised by the weakness in his voice. "I meant to destroy the entire race. I would have, if Thor hadn't stopped me. Is that not something a monster would do?" He expected to receive your disgust. Possibly your fear or your anger. Instead your face bent in sympathy. "Destroy the enemy of Asgard? It sounds like something an Asgardian would do."

Loki closed his eyes. You settled back against the couch, pulling him with you. "Obviously the stories are wrong, Loki. You bought into the propaganda. I'd expect more from a god of lies." He allowed you to bring his head to rest against yours, against the back of the couch. "Your clemency is too easily granted. This should have ended with you sending me away." "Loki, the first time I saw your face was on television, attempting to subjugate my planet." "All the more reason." "Hm." He rested with you in silence, your fingers stroking his hair.

You eventually ventured a question. "I didn't think Jötuns looked like Asgardians." Loki winced. "They don't. What you see is shape-shifted. This isn't the form I was born to. There was another beat of silence. "Can I see?" This was something he had hoped to avoid, but he certainly couldn't deny you. "You may not look at me the same way." "Don't be ridiculous." He sighed and sat up, facing you. "I did warn you." You straightened and watched him with anticipation.

He closed his eyes and felt his form shift. He didn't hear you respond, and eventually found the courage to look at you, with eyes he knew were now blood red.

You were looking at him with wonder, and reached out to trace a raised line on his cheek. "It's a lovely shade." "It's hideous." He muttered. You pursed your lips. "Loki, I think you might be racist." "If it weren't for my magic," he spoke sadly, the memory of his dream resurfacing, "my touch would burn you with cold." You took his hand and brought it to your lips, placing a kiss to his fingertips with a slight smile. "Then I'm very grateful for your magic." He found the sight of his blue skin against yours unsettling, and shifted back to his usual shape. "How can you be so unfazed by all of this?" "Oh, I'm fazed, for sure. We definitely have a lot to talk about. But like I said, I had already come to terms with the alien thing. I assumed there would be a few surprises."

That sounded reasonable enough, even if part of him still struggled to believe it. He leaned back, and this time you followed him until the both of you were reclined on the couch. He threw an arm around you and sighed. "It is unreasonable to be this tired so early in the day." He looked down at you. "Do you have work to do?" "It can wait. What about you?" "It can wait." He echoed.

You settled in against him. "So, you're only a prince by adoption?" A smirk curled his lip, despite himself. "Actually, I'm the rightful king of Jötunheim." "Oh, that's great news." He heard the smile creep into your voice. "I thought I would have to kill Thor to become a queen." That drew a chuckle from him, and he could sense you were pleased with yourself for it.

He looked up at your ceiling and his mind swam. You had given him a lot to think about. His concentration was pulled away by your fingers toying with a strand of his hair. It drew his focus to you instead. You were still his. He felt a deep gratitude for your reassuring weight against him. There were things that needed to be addressed, without question. Deep-seated beliefs. Ideas of who he was.

They could wait.

Previous Chapter | Masterlist | Next Chapter

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@mischief2sarawr, @imalovernotahater, @norestfortheshelbywicked, @purplekitten30, @ozymdias, @pdraxxi, @goblingirlsarah, @chantsdemarins, @n3rdybirdee, @marvel-love24, @lokiprompts, @ladymischief11, @gigglingtiggerv2, @lilmilkbun, @huntress-artemiss, @ellooo0ooo, @femme1fatale, @clairewinchester14, @glitterylokislut, @psychospore, @ladyloki3, @skinij3fx, @iamlokisgloriouspurpose, @lunarnights95, @callxmexnadine, @lilibet261, @valeave, @f2mhg2lt2rta, @fruit-caught-on-camera, @ladymischief11, @paetonnn, @confusedpanda-777, @honeyrydernot, @sarcastic-siren, @wolfsmom1, @lokisgoodgirl, @cakesandtom, @unlucky-number-13, @rinnwylde, @javagirl328, @josiedoesdoodles, @rose7420, @ultrasnakesona, @vickie5446, @superficialdomina, @ireallyneedtherapy, @weirdowoody, @hotmesshobbit, @buttercupcookies-blog, @km-ffluv, @mrsbarnes32557038, @tallseaweed, @leothecat97, @soulpiercing, @axen-gers, @im-a-slut-for-fluff, @jainaeatsstars, @whattwhoo, @xxfaithlynxx, @thisisew, @rvautomatic, @herdetectivetheorist, @rhiannon-russo, @loki-godofstories, @thedistractedagglomeration, @halepack2011

#loki #loki x reader #loki x y/n #loki x you #loki fanfiction #loki fanfic #loki fluff

[mrsbarnes32557038]

This was so heartwarming and cute and I'm super excited to enjoy the rest! Thank you so much for sharing 🥰

Just One Kiss (Part 1)

Word Count: 1007

Summary: (For the series) Bucky Barnes has been chasing after you since he was ten years old, but you’re determined not to give in. How long can you hold out when all he’s asking for is just one kiss? (For this part we’re jumping into the middle of it. I’ll provide backstory later on.)

Warnings: Excessive teasing 

A/N: Surprise! My impulse decision tend to be my best decisions, so here we go! I missed the small, light, and easy installments of TLT, so we’re going to try it out with a little 40′s Bucky series. In which no one dies and everyone is happy. Sound good?

“Is that your fella?” Betty asked, bumping your hip with hers as you wiped down the counter and fluttering her fingers towards the back corner of the diner.

You followed the direction of her gesture, seeing Bucky slouched over in a booth, his chin resting on his folded arms on the tabletop, eyes half closed. Something warm and soft flowed through you, but the sound of Betty’s lacquered red fingernails tapping at the counter broke through your reverie, and you cleared your throat self-consciously..

Keep reading

#bucky barnes x reader #bucky barnes fic #bucky barnes fanfiction #bucky barnes fluff #bucky barnes x you #1940s bucky #i love him so much

[mrsbarnes32557038]

I'm intrigued and I really enjoyed the first part! I'm looking forward to reading the rest that you've shared.

[Bucky Barnes] set of 2 - part 1

part 2 here || masterlist here

Summary: first part of the story about the friendship between you and Bucky.

[5:01 am]

"YN? What are you doing here?"

"You didn't answer my calls," you said, entering Bucky's apartment without hesitation and giving him a bump on the shoulders.

"What part of 'blocked' didn't you understand?" Bucky asked while closing the door. Of course, you'd come over. Over the past months, you slept at Bucky's place almost every night. At first, you created the stupidest excuses to stay there, but with time it wasn't even necessary. Bucky knew it was because of his daily nightmares, but you never said anything. Not even when he screamed and woke up scared. You never said anything, just stayed by his side. You never touched him, just sat by his side. Bucky never told you to go home and never asked you to stay either. He always let you do whatever you wanted. Deep inside, he felt so scared you'd go and not come back the day before, but you always did. There was this day where you waited for him by his door, but Bucky didn't show up. You called, but he didn't answer, so you called Sam. It was the day Bucky got beaten by some agents who never accepted that Bucky was on their side now, that he was an Avenger too.

You asked Sam to pass the phone to Bucky and asked if he wanted you to go where he was, but he only grumbled a 'whatever' and gave the phone back to Sam.

You went after him and sat on the ground by the bed where he was. Sam offered you to sleep on the couch, but you declined, resolute to stay with Bucky. You didn't ask him about what happened and he didn't say anything.

One day, you didn't show up and Bucky noted your absence. He rested his back against the wall outside his apartment and waited, but you didn't show up. He had your name saved on his phone as 'Doll', so he called, but you didn't pick up. Bucky didn't know where you lived, and it was then that he noticed how much of an ungrateful moron he was. You were always there for him, always talking and talking, sometimes it made him insane, but you were always present. He noticed how you could talk for hours about anything, but you never said anything when he had a nightmare. You never asked or said anything in comfort. You never said things would be okay or that he was safe now, that he wasn't the Winter Soldier anymore or that Hydra would never come after him again. Instead, you did so much more: you let your actions show him that you cared. He wasn't alone.

That day he called Sam and made the new captain track down your phone only to find out you were in jail. Why? You heard two men at the bar speaking about this 'piece of shit' who called himself Winter Soldier and was nothing more than a sellout that killed hundreds and had the hypocrisy of blaming others for his actions. In your defense, you did give them the chance to speak before kicking both men in the balls.

"He must have a big ass cock for you to defend a piece of trash, you stupid ungrateful bitch."

And that was when you kicked their balls and punched them in the throat. Bucky did a good job in training you.

Bucky arrived there in minutes with his motorcycle, but his morals weren't that great to get you out, so he sat by your cell and waited for Sam. You didn't say hello or ask why he was there, instead you let him stay. No need to say how pissed Sam was when he found Bucky Barnes and his poor excuse of a sidekick in the jail. And that's how your friendship was formed, never talking when things got too bad, but never leaving. A silent promise of devotion.

#bucky barnes x reader #bucky barnes x female reader #bucky barnes #bucky barnes x you #bucky barnes x y/n #bucky barnes fluff

[mrsbarnes32557038]

This was so cute 🥰

Imagine comparing Bucky to a cat. And it absolutely offends him. How dare you compare his metal and muscle to something small and fluffy. How dare you.

But you do dare.

And so does Steve, Sam and Tony. 

Every single time. 

He can’t help that he has many kitty like qualities. Disliking loud noises. Falling asleep mid day under a patch of sunlight. Slinking away from crowds. Soft, shiny, well kept, hair. Clean. Picky with meeting new people. Stretches. Grumpy. Liked his alone time. 

Still.

He was a trained assassin, how dare any of you. 

“Look, hes doing it again” Sam can’t even hold back his snort, watching Bucky cock his head curiously while cleaning his gun, eyes laser focused on the intricate little spaces, “If he had a tail, it’d be swishing back and forth right now” 

“I’ll show you a tail” Bucky shoots back a glare, having heard Sam’s poor attempt at a whisper, a deep growl emitting from his chest, which only makes everyone else laugh harder. 

“Is that a purr I hear” Tony sasses, and for a moment, Bucky considers pouncing over the sofa. 

“I think that’s his version of a hiss” you giggle, his eyes narrowing at you in response. 

“Not you too, doll” Bucky grumbles, ignoring the way your teasing makes him blush. His bottom lip juts out into a pout he has no control of and you can’t help reaching over to gently scratch his scalp. 

“Awww, c’mere” You massage his head, cooing when he lets out a satisfied hum, his eyes closing at the feeling of your nimble fingers. 

“Now that’s a purr” Sam mused, reaching over to pet Bucky’s head, only to have his hand swatted away. “See?!” He’s picky like one too” 

“M’not picky, just don’t want your feathery hands on me” Bucky mumbled, eyes still closed, nuzzling more into your touch. 

“Oh, but y/n’s hands are fine?” 

Bucky responded with another content rumble, setting down the gun he was cleaning and stretching his long legs out, laying his head onto your lap, letting you continue your gentle scratches. 

“Such a punk” Steve shook his head, giving Bucky’s hair a ruffle as he walked by only to have Sam and Tony scoff when his hand wasn’t wacked away. 

“C’mon!” 

“He’s worse than we thought” 

Bucky snickered to himself, closing his eyes and curling further into your lap. 

Maybe being so cat like, wasn’t so bad. 

#bucky barnes #bucky x y/n #bucky barnes x reader #bucky barnes fanfiction #bucky fanfic #bucky barnes x you #bucky x reader #bucky x you #bucky barnes fluff

[mrsbarnes32557038]

Ahhhh! He is the worst!!!! I'm already feeling bad for everything he is going to do to this poor woman.

Hangover 1

Warnings: dubcon, noncon, other possible triggers. Proceed with caution.

Note: can't stop, won't stop. Please leave any and all feedback! 💚💚💚💚💚💚

Part of The Club AU

“Boris, I need that big breakfast,” you call through the window.

“Yeah, yeah,” the cook gristles back as he clinks a plate onto the metal, “you don't wait.”

“It's been twenty minutes,” you rebuff as you take the hot dish and veer around Monica at the counter.

You come around and carry it over to the only customer at a table. The officer came in looking underslept and worse for wear. A bruise is faded to yellow under his eyes and his stubble is just shorter than an actual beard.

“Here you are, honey,” you put on your customer service voice, “more coffee?”

“Yeah,” he puts his phone face down and unwraps the cutlery.

You go to the machine and grab a pot. You return and fill his cup as he jabs at the scrambled eggs.

“There ya go, honey, anything else I can do for you?”

“Yeah, stop calling me honey,” he snarls.

“Oh, sorry… sir.”

You back away and retreat back to the counter, offering more top ups as you burn with embarrassment. You suppose you can come on strong when you're looking for tips. Besides, you can't blame him for being grumpy. He seems to have a good reason for it.

You put on a fresh pot as you replace the urn on the burner. You dip behind the counter as Monica brings Vi her tea and egg whites. The old lady is one of the mainstays of the place.

“So,” Monica turns her back to the customers and lowers her voice, “how's Will?”

“I think he's liking college… must be having fun since I never hear from him,” you shrug, “only asks when he can come get his laundry done.”

“Typical, I'm not looking forward to Brandon being that age.”

“Yes, enjoy them while they're young and sweet,” you cluck.

“Waitress!” The cop booms from his table.

“Chipper guy,” Monica mutters under her breath as you turn on your heel.

You go back to the table. You notice the wrinkles in his uniform, the buttons aren't lined up properly either. He has his hand on his forehead. He leans over his plate as his shoulders tense and you see his boy racking.

Oh god, no! You've seen this before. Will would get like this when he brought home the flu.

“Oh no, just…”

You put your hand on his back and urge him over the plate as he pukes. You smell the alcohol then. You rub between his shoulder blades as he retches, not bringing up much more than the few bites he took.

“I'll get ya something,” you pull the towel from your apron and offer him that.

You try not to wrinkle your nose as you pick up his plate and carry it behind the counter. You dump it in the bin as Monica lets out a blech. You agree but you don't want to bring too much attention to the situation.

You go into the kitchen and wash your hands. You find a bucket and bring it out to the cop. He's bent over the table, head on his arms.

“Hon– sir,” you put the bucket on the table, “you want some water?”

He doesn't react. You go and get water for him, setting it by his elbow. He breathes heavily but doesn't move.

“You gonna be sick again?”

“No,” he grumbles, “I'm fine.”

You open your mouth but think better of it. You almost wonder if he's actually a cop. Maybe you should call the real ones.

You leave him and go to hide behind the counter. You have enough to worry about between tuition and your mortgage.

“Guy's a mess,” Monica whispers.

“Just a bit,” you agree.

“It's not even noon…”

“Shhhh, he's having a rough one,” you say, “he'll go eventually.”

“As long as he pays his bill,” she tuts.

“Yeah, let's hope,” you frown and peek over your shoulder. So much for a decent tip.

🍽

The cop leaves about an hour after he got there. You forget quickly with the lunch rush. You spend your last few hours running yourself ragged.

You exchange your apron for your coat and leave through the side door. As you come into the alley, you notice the cruiser parked beside the dumpsters. You sidle by, stopping as you see the figure strewn over the back seat.

It's the same cop that was in the diner. You're content to keep going but your shoe hits a shape that jingles. You look down, a set of keys that can be for nothing other than the car in front of you. Those doors only open from the outside… wow. You won't call the guy a disaster, you can't exactly say you're any better.

You bend and pick up the keys. You unlock the door and open it, the edge hitting the dumpster. You don't know what to do so you just grab the cops ankle and shake his leg.

“Sir,” you raise your voice.

He throws his arm off his head and props himself up on his elbow, “what?”

“Um, you dropped these,” you place the keys by his shoe. “Sorry.”

He grunts but doesn't respond. You back up, leaving the door open. He slowly slides to the edge of the seat and hands his legs out of the car, bracing the door as he wipes the sleep from his eyes.

“Was sleepin’ good,” he growls.

“I… I was just checking on you… are you okay?”

“Does it matter?” He pulls himself up, snatching up the keys and slamming the back door. “Doing just fucking fine.”

“Alright, I wasn't…” you show your palms defensively, “have a good day officer.”

“Thanks, waitress,” he scoffs.

You bite down on his tone. It's not the first time you've been spoken to like that. In your line of work, it's all too common, and as you get more years under you, it's just how it is.

You turn and head towards the street. The engine rolls over behind you and as you near the end, you hear the tires crunching on pebbles. You barely manage to move out of the way as the officer steers into the street. You just stand back and watch him veer off. As bad as your day might be, his seems worse.

#johnny storm #dark johnny storm #johnny storm x reader #the club #hangover #i can hear this gif

[mrsbarnes32557038]

Oh how coincidental... 🙄

If You Can't Dance 3

Warnings: dubcon, noncon, other possible triggers. Proceed with caution.

Note: this is what you get when you encourage me. Please leave any and all feedback! 🩷🩷🩷🩷🩷

Part of The Club AU

You login for the day with your usual set up. A mug of peppermint tea, your favourite sweater, and your gaming chair set to the most ergonomic setting. You connect to the company's shared server and go through the verification. It's tedious but necessary. You're certain there will be many tedious tasks to come as the merger looms heavy over the newly absorbed startup.

As your Teams pops up, you scroll through your tasks and prepare to start your usual squinting hunch at the screen. You grab your glasses and put them on. You really need to start wearing those.

Bing! You have a message. Oh, jeez, it's Jensen. Your manager, at least for the time being. You don't know what his new job will be in the unified structure. So many questions but you're more concerned with the backend.

'Morning, how's it going?'

He's casual and approachable. At least, from what you can tell over virtual text and the occasional video call. He checks in now and then so you assume this is just the same.

'Alright. Getting started for the day.'

The three dots pop up then disappear, then a new message appears.

'Did you enjoy last night? Didn't get to say hi, you looked like you had fun tho.'

'Oh. I guess.'

'It was nice to see everyone. Anyway, business. Meeting at nine for coders. Invite coming.'

You stare at the screen. Great. You hate team meetings. You always have to give and update but you don't have much to say. You do your work and it's right there for them to see. Why do you need to explain it?

'Got it.'

You send your response and ignore his reaction; a thumbs up. You put a timer on, knowing better than to trust yourself. You go back to your usual, trying to settle in with your minty brew. Last night has put everything off-balance.

Slightly agitated by the spontaneity of the event, you join the Teams meeting and try not to look at yourself among the five rectangles on the screen. Jensen's glasses glare in the camera and you take your own off, hoping to escape behind the blur of your vision. G is there too, the only other coder you've worked with in the company. He's a strange guy, quiet, and no one knows his full name. The other two, Marc and Dharshi round out the group. All of you sit silent, waiting.

"Oh, uh," Jensen unmutes as he seems to remember he's on a call, "alright, guys, I'll try to keep this short. There's a lot to do but I really didn't think that this message should come through an email."

You check your mug, cold and empty. You have a bad feeling about whatever message he's referring to.

"So, I know we've been doing work from home for a while, but, uh, with the new company, we're being asked to consider a more hybrid model. No decision has been made yet but next week, you are all required to report to the new headquarters so that we can meet our new coworkers."

"What?" Dharshi exclaims as Marc scowls. G just stares blankly, you think, it's hard to make out clearly. You probably look just as dull.

"I know, I know, I'm trying to get us down to only a couple days a week in office," Jensen explains, "right now, there's no decision made but we do have to try. There's a different culture with Blue Forest but I think we'll be okay."

G hangs up and Jensen sputters. Dharshi and Marc let out odd noises and you just sit there.

"Oh, must be a bad connection," Jensen laughs nervously, "so... uh, I'll follow-up with G and see you all Monday."

No response. Jensen fills the void with his usual managerial spiel; let me know if you need anything, yada yada. The call ends and you're left deflating in fractured safehold of your home office. Maybe you will all be too awkward and they'll just decide to keep you hidden away. You can only hope.

Oh and don't forget, you still have to go get your car after work.

🐞

Monday comes too fast, your weekend fading into a marathon of Fortnight and nature documentaries. You pull out your most acceptable outfit. Another long skirt and a turtle neck with oxford boots. Hmm, it's more Anne Shirley than business casual.

You drive into the heart of the city, the GPS guiding you to the modern office building with its transparent walls and sleek black structure. You grab your laptop bag, a messenger with butterfly patches sewn onto it. At the door, you're stopped and let in after verifying your Employee ID. You're told to go to the front desk to get your new credentials.

After you get sorted, you're sent down the hall to a conference room. You pass several offices and people you don't know. Your new coworkers. You grip the strap of your bag as a woman pops out of Room 1161B, the very one you were told to go to. You stop short as she smiles at you, her frilly blouse tucked into a sleek white skirt.

"Oh, you must be a new one, I'm Catarina," she offers her hand and you just stare at it. "You'll be in here for the Tech Orientation. There's tea and coffee, some pastries, and full catering will be available at lunch."

"Thanks," you mutter and peek into the empty room.

"You're so early," she praises, "sorry, I didn't catch your name. I need to check you off the list."

You enunciate the syllables clearly so you won't have to repeat yourself then turn into the room. You look around at the tables. Not the traditional long intimidating tabletop but several throughout the space. You don't know where to sit, if you should choose a particular seat, so you go to the waiting urns by the far wall.

You peruse the collection of tea bags. Chamomile, green, Earl Gray...

"Ah, pardon, could I trouble you for English Breakfast if they have it?" A voice nears before the footsteps reach you. The shadow stops beside you, the voice frighteningly familiar. You grab a bag of the English Breakfast and hold it out without looking over. It can't be, what are the odds? "Oh..." he says your name. The accent, the recognition, he knows you and you vaguely know him. Jonathan.

"You work here?" You wonder as you continue to shuffle through the packets.

"Yes, and I assume... you do too. Now. You are among the newly acquired?"

You nod and put down the box of teas.

"Is there something wrong? You don't like the selection?"

"No peppermint," you shrug.

You sidle along and grab a paper cup, instead pressing the spout for the large jug of cold water. The man fills his cup with hot water before tugging on the string of the tea bag, steeping it as he nears you again.

"It's rather a coincidence," he preens, "are you excited to start?"

You know you shouldn't be honest so you do your best to lie, "yeah."

"You certainly sound it," he laughs, "well, please, have a dessert... and a seat. We'll be all out before you know it."

"Thanks," you surpass the plate of tarts and croissants. You sit at the table nearest the corner and stare at the cup of clear water. You should've known to bring your own tea.

#jonathan pine #dark jonathan pine #jonathan pine x reader #if you can't dance #the club #the night manager #she will be swimming in peppermint tea

[mrsbarnes32557038]

Annnnd now he knows where she lives. Maybe he will send flowers, guilt her into a date, she doesn't seem to be able to say no easily.

If You Can't Dance 2

Warnings: dubcon, noncon, other possible triggers. Proceed with caution.

Note: this is what you get when you encourage me. Please leave any and all feedback! 🩷🩷🩷🩷🩷

Part of The Club AU

The man lets you go as the bouncer approaches again. He hands over a green bottle of Perrier. The stranger uncaps it and offers it to you as the carbonation hisses from the open neck.

“Have a drink,” he says gently.

You take the bottle and gulp, the bubbles nearly choking you. He looms there with you, watching you drink. You pop your mouth off the bottle and stare at his lapel.

“I'm sorry,” you gasp, “I think I'll be okay now.”

“No need to apologise,” he assures you. “I'll stay with you until you're better.”

“You don't…” he leans in again and your breath catches, “you don't have to do that.”

“Oh, I couldn't leave you. Go on, have some more water,” he says, “Jonathan, by the way, I'm afraid our introduction was lacking.”

You're confused. You don't know this man. Why is he so interested? You glance over at the pretty girls in their mini skirts and strappy dresses.

“And you?” He prompts.

You give your name to the brim of the bottle before you swig again. You rub you cheek then let your hand drop to your stomach. You cringe at the gurgle in your stomach. 

“Have a bit much to drink?” He asks.

“I don't… I don't drink,” you answer, “but… they gave me it.”

“They? A friend?”

“Coworker.”

“Ah, a work outing. Rather odd choice for that but who am I to say? I was lured here upon the premise of business myself.”

You hand the bottle back to him and hug yourself. He twists the cap on as you peer down the street. They probably won't even notice you're gone.

“I should go,” you stand up, “thanks, uh, sir, for your help.”

“Go? Are you driving?”

“Yeah, my car is over…” you trail off as you brave a glance up at him. His blonde hair is tidy and his eyes are a perfect shade of sky blue. “...there.”

“You can't drive, you said you've been drinking,” he tilts his head.

“Oh, uh, I guess,” you peel around, keeping your arms crossed, “a taxi…”

“We could share? I have an early morning meeting so I'll be off about now.”

“Oh, no, that's fine–”

“I don't mind. In fact, I'd be more bothered to send you of not knowing if you got home safe,” he intones.

“But… you don't know me.”

“Well, you can't get to know people if you don't start there,” he chuckles lightly, “how are you feeling now, then? Calmer?”

You nod. He holds out the bottle. 

“Keep it. Finish it if you can. It will help sober you up,” he lets you take the bottle before he turns and raises his arm, hailing down the street for the approaching headlights. You'd be on the curb for a while before anyone saw you jumping and waving. That would be embarrassing. 

“Dear,” he looks back at you as a yellow cab approaches.

“I said…” you don't bother repeating yourself. People don't hear you. It's why you prefer email or IM.

The driver is there. That's a safeguard, right? The man, Jonathan, opens the door for you and you get in. He goes around the other side and gives his address, “but first…” he gestures to you.

You say your own address as you place the water bottle in the cup holder and buckle in. You stare out the window and watch the street roll by as the car pulls out. You keep yourself nestled into the door, making yourself as small as you can.

“So… coworkers… what do you do for work?”

“Code.”

“Ah, interesting, valuable skill set. I have many coders on my team. Always reliable, always honest.”

You nod. What do you say? Your work isn't exciting and the few times you worked with other coders were less than pleasant.

Silence. A strangling dearth of sound. You fidget, wiping your sweaty palms on your skirt. You just want to get home. The prospect of having to pick your car up the next day adds to your anxiety.

“I am rather too talkative for my own good,” he chuckles.

The driver seems to take a hint and flips on the radio. You exhale, relieved for the white noise, and refocus out the window.

It's an odd end to the night. You knew going out would probably be unsettling but this is all so strange. You suppose you've been in your own space for too long. You've never been good with other people.

As you recognise the street you're one, you sit up. Jonathan inhales and hooks one leg over the other. The driver steers around the corner sharply and nearly has you falling across the seat. You slap a hand on the leather and resist the physics. 

You peek up and meet Jonathan's eye. An accident that has you boiling and looking away. You see your house and lean forward.

As the driver stops, you pull at the purse slung around your body. You look at the meter and search for your wallet in the slouchy body of the bag. Jonathan tuts and flutters his fingers at you.

“My treat. Please, save your money.”

“But–” you gulp back a response. You should pay but you also shouldn’t argue with kindness. That’s what your mother always said.

You click the seat belt and let it recoil. Your hand is already on the door as you’re ready to run and hide. The man says your name. You pause and look back, not wanting to be rude.

“Well, have a good night,” he drawls.

“Oh, uh, thank you, you too,” you pull the handle.

“Very nice meeting you,” he calls softly, right before you close the door.

#jonathan pine #dark jonathan pine #jonathan pine x reader #if you can't dance #the club #the night manager

[mrsbarnes32557038]

I watched that gif longer than anyone should admit. He is so fine.

I'm looking forward to this story! He seems so genuine and caring... For now...

If You Can't Dance 1

Warnings: dubcon, noncon, other possible triggers. Proceed with caution.

Note: this is what you get when you encourage me. Please leave any and all feedback! 🩷🩷🩷🩷🩷

Part of The Club AU

“It's so nice to finally meet you in person!” Melinda beams as she holds out a bright drink. The layers of blue and purple make you wonder about its contents.

“Yeah, so awesome,” Faye hollers as she sips from a yellow cocktail. “Must be lonely working from home.”

“Oh, uh, not really,” you sway, trying to avoid the bodies around you. Your throat scrapes as you have to yell over the pumping bass. “It's…quiet.”

“Quiet!? Carly giggles, “then It's good you got out! This merger is going to be lit.”

“Lit?” Melinda, the eldest of the trio rolls her eyes, “you young ones.”

You wade with them through the crowd, the heat of the clubgoers catching beneath the wool of your sweater. You feel out of place in your dowdy pullover and long peasant skirt, especially as sequins and bright prints refract in the rainbow of lights. Even your coworkers belong, blouse sleeves rolled up and blazers handed over to the coatroom.

“Hopefully they're still down for work drinks!” Faye trills.

“Bigger and better. Work mandated cocktails should just be a thing,” Carly guffaws.

“Mmm, and what about work mandated flings?” Faye ogles past you.

You crane to follow her eyeline. You see several men, striding through the crowd with ease. Tall and not bad looking by common standards. You see nothing especially alluring but you understand what people look for; good posture, nice eyes, broad shoulders.

“Erm,” you look back and taste your drink, giving a face. “Is there alcohol in this?” You call over.

“Duh!” Carly laughs again, “oh my god, you're so adorable! Oh, you know what, you should start coming into office. We do lattes on Friday.”

“I er… don't mind….”

You don't finish your protest as the tempo shifts and Faye squeals, “oh this is my song, girls!”

They throw an arm up each, balancing their drinks in their other hands. You sniff the glass and try another gulp. You cough and hide it behind your hand. They barely notice you. No one really does, you're tiny and dressed like wallpaper.

As they shimmy and swing to the music, you don't know what to do. You wiggle awkwardly, but you don't dance and have no rhythm. You find yourself downing the drink out of anxiety.

You feel an odd sensation in your eyelids and a ripple in your brain as you get to the bottom of the drink. You copy Carly and leave your empty glass on a table. Another song and the heat beads on the nape of your neck.

The flashing lights and wall of sound makes you dizzy. You shouldn't have finished the drink. You don't feel right. You look at the others and how they giggle and joke. You don't fit in. Just like always. You know your coding and you know how to be alone.

You sidle close to Melinda, she seems like a mother, well, she kept mentioning her kids. “Is there a bathroom here?”

She laughs, amused by your obvious question, “over there.”

She points through the crowd. You see the top of a sign but not enough to read it. You smile and wave to the other girls, fleeing as they barely notice.

You get caught between a couple as you try to squeeze by. You squeal and get knocked around by a large guy on the other side of them. You're caught in a tidal wave of people as you peer desperately at the neon blue sign.

You can't get there but you need to get out of here. Your skin is on fire, your vision is streaming, and you can't breathe. The air is hot and humid and putrid.

You claw before you, forcing past the crush around you, stumbling towards the entryway. You trip out the door and heave in, gulping down cold air, trying to get your head straight. Your chest hurts and you're shaking. You need help!

You look around for anything. Anyone. The bouncers are distracted with those seeking entry and those in line don't seem to see you. You lean on the corner of the building and put your hand on your sweater.

You clutch the wool and shake your head. It's been a while since you felt this. The world spirals around you as you struggle to steady yourself. You keep your other hand on the wall and murmur. You're going to pass out.

You shouldn't have come here. You knew this would happen. But they didn't give you a choice. The email said mandatory. You need this job. What are you going to do? Everything is falling to pieces.

“Pardon me, are you alright?” A lilting voice startles you. You part from the wall, nearly falling against it as you teeter on your feet, “oh, woah, watch yourself.”

The man catches your arm, keeping you from tipping over. His touch surges in you but you know you can't stand on your own. You gulp and gurgle, fanning yourself.

“S-s-sorry,” you pants, “I just… I can't breathe.”

He leans in as you can barely speak. His blue eyes are intent on you as he keeps you upright, firm but gentle. He nods as he listens to your staggered words.

“I… too hot… inside…”

“Oh, dear, yes, I agree,” he smiles kindly, “here, why don't you…. lean here, yes,” he eases you against the brickfront, “catch your breath,” his accent is soothing, “and…” he looks around, gesturing to the bouncer, “Pardon, yes, would you fetch some water for the lady?”

The man grumbles but glances inside the club. He must know the stranger before you, “you have some water and it'll be just fine. Hmm? Will you count with me?”

You give him a bewildered look but he's already counting, “one, two, three…”

#jonathan pine #dark jonathan pine #jonathan pine x reader #if you can't dance #the club #the night manager #that strut #he knows what he's doing

[mrsbarnes32557038]

Oh Lloyd... He is into Mimi and he is trying to be distant with her but it isn't going to work. I'm just waiting for him to find out about her career change and Cole.

Also I'm really hoping Peter uses a fake id and comes to the club. I love some dark Peter...

Carpe Noctem 21

Warnings: dark elements, noncon, age gap, gaslighting, manipulation, violence, blood, other dark elements. Proceed with caution. (short!reader)

Note: Please let me know what you think as it helps me a lot with ideas and I love interacting with you all.

Part of The Club AU

As you come home, the house is seemingly empty. You sneak up to the guest room and tuck your bag beside the bed, your apron buried inside. After a long day of steaming milk and trying to perfect your latte art, you don’t have the energy to reveal the truth. It’s better he doesn’t know. He’d agree, he probably doesn’t even care.

That’s your real problem. You just need to accept that other people don’t care as much as you. That’s not a flaw in you, it just means you need to adjust your expectations. Or maybe just see things for what they are. Honesty would save you a lot of disappointment.

You go downstairs and lazily pluck out ingredients from the pantry and fridge. You always found cooking relaxing. A clear goal with small steps. Not to mention, the kitchen is much bigger than your boxy apartment. You’ll enjoy the luxury while you can.

You fill the pot and the aromas mingle fragrantly, tugging at your stomach. Even after tasting nearly every dessert in the cafe, you’re starving. You stir the mixture and open the bag of tortilla chips nestled away in the cupboard.

“Don’t eat those all,” Lloyd startles you.

You look at him over your shoulder, “won’t. They’re just to go with the soup.”

“Soup?” He glances at the stove and you pull down two bowls.

“Tortilla soup. My specialty.”

“Really? I was just going to order from The Duke.”

“That’s expensive,” you say, “there’ll be lots of leftovers so–”

“Leftovers?”

“Save some money–”

“Not really something I’m worried about, baby cakes,” he crosses the kitchen and sniffs emphatically at the stove, “tomato-ey.”

“Well, if you don’t like it, I can freeze it. I’ll take it for lunch–”

“Why are you doing this?” He asks abruptly.

“Why am I… cooking?”

“Yes.”

“Well, because we need to eat,” you say as if it’s obvious.

“We? You’re… not my mother. Or wife.”

“Clearly,” you agree. “I’ll replace the ingredients. Sorry, I just thought… maybe a nice gesture since I’m staying here.”

“Nice gesture. I got a few of those in mind but they don’t include a hot stove.”

You glance over at him. Right, yeah, you’re a body to him, not anything else. You realise now, it was the same with Johnny. You were just a thing to him. You cleaned up, you cooked, but he never really looked after you.

“The soup won’t take long,” you assure him.

He takes a breath and sighs, drawing close, looming over you as you take out the cheese shredder. He watches as you unwrap the cheese and grate it. You don’t know what else to do but keep going. You feel like you’ve crossed some line you can’t see.

“I just want us to be clear,” he taps his fingers on the counter, “this isn’t… serious. Us, I mean. There’s no us. Not outside the bedroom. Got it?”

You frown, “I know that. I’m not stupid. And I certainly am not interested in that.”

He’s quiet as he drags his hand off the counter. He exhales, “good to know. We understand each other.”

“We do,” you nod.

You wrap up the unused cheese. As you do, he reaches to steal a pinch of the shredded cheese. You instinctively swat his hand away and he recoils.

“Eh,” he shoves the cheese in his mouth.

“You didn’t wash your hands,” you accuse him.

“You’ve had worse than my hands near your mouth–”

“Jeez,” you huff, “you’re going to make a mess.” 

You move the plate of cheese across the counter and tidy up the few stray pieces across the counter. You toss them in the pin and take a cloth to wipe down the marble. He lurks, pacing around the kitchen.

“I’ll have extra chips with mine,” he nears the door, pausing as you sense him watching you but don’t look. “I’ll figure out dessert, baby face.”

🍷

The next day you don’t bother making yourself coffee. You’ll have more than your share at the cafe. You dress and leave at the usual time, parking a block away from the shop and walking the rest of the way. 

As you approach, you see Cole ahead of you. He unlocks the front door and glances over with a smile. He waves as he tugs with his other hand. He turns his attention back to the door and struggles to dislodge the keys.

You come close and watch him wiggle and jiggle the key ring.

“Dang thing gets stuck every day,” he shakes his head.

“Can I try?” You offer.

“Sure,” he steps back,throwing his hands up in exasperation, “not as strong as I look, I guess.”

You don’t comment. He’s tall and even under his corduroy jacket, you can tell he’s in good shape. You grab the end of the key and give it a small wiggle, sliding it out easily. Not much force, just a bit of finesse.

“You don’t have to be strong,” you offer him the keys, “just have to coax it a little.”

“Thanks,” he takes the keys, his fingers brushing yours, “you’re a godsend. I swear. I think… call me crazy, but last night I was telling my ma that you were sent to us for a reason.”

“You did?” You ask as he reaches around you to open the door, waving you in ahead of him.

You enter and he follows, pulling the door shut to lock from the inside.

“Oh, yeah, I mean, I’ve been interviewing like crazy. Most of the staff lasts a day and gives up but I can tell… you’re committed,” his sleeve touches yours as he passes, putting his passenger bag on the countertop as he stretches and looks around, “well, you want a coffee before we go through opening?”

“I’d love that but I can wait if–”

“Nah, we got plenty of time,” he interjects, “besides, that’s one of the steps. We do a batch medium and dark roast before opening so we’re ready to serve when doors open.”

“Oh, makes sense,” you peer around and set to taking the chairs down of the tables and set them right.

“I’ll get those,” he insists, “please. Lady’s shouldn’t be doing all that.”

You hesitate as you place another chair on its legs. You glance over at him as moves behind the counter. The comment isn’t exactly HR friendly but you don’t think he means anything. He’s just the type who likes to wear shining armor. 

“I don’t mind.”

“I do,” he insists as he approaches the till, “come on. Let’s make the coffee.”

You step away from the tables. He is your boss. You go around the counter into the narrow space behind it. You forgot how cramped it is here.

“You wanna put your stuff in my office?” He asks as he prods the bag slung from your shoulder, “I’ll get this warmed up.”

“Oh, I guess…”

Here, the brass key,” he hands over the keyring, “you can leave those on the desk.”

“Right.”

You take the keys and go through the kitchen and turn into the small hallway between that and the storage room. You go to the office door with the peeling paint and the worn side that reads management. This place needs a lot of work.

You let yourself into the office and set the keys on the corner of the desk. You put your coat and bag in the chair against the wall, eyeing the picture of a younger Cole and who you assume are his parents. The backdrop is grassy and bright. He’s smiling that same sunshiny smile. You wonder how he’s held onto that.

You close the door behind you as you head back. You can hear him humming as you come down the hallway. Is that Frankie Valli?

#lloyd hansen #dark lloyd hansen #lloyd hansen x reader #the club #carpe noctem

[mrsbarnes32557038]

Oh. Oh no. Cole just found his new basement wife. Lloyd is a knight in shining armor compared to the rest of these guys!!

Carpe Noctem 20

Warnings: dark elements, noncon, age gap, gaslighting, manipulation, violence, blood, other dark elements. Proceed with caution. (short!reader)

Note: Please let me know what you think as it helps me a lot with ideas and I love interacting with you all.

Part of The Club AU

You don’t know where to go. You know you can’t go back to Lloyd’s. Not yet. You don’t want to talk about what happened. Maybe he won’t even ask or care but it would be obvious if you got back so soon.

So you drive around, listless, until you find a place to park and hide behind your steering wheel. You stay there for a while, just across the street from a hardware store. You check your empty thermos and sigh. Coffee. More coffee and you can think.

You get out and cross the street. You head up down the next block to the cafe nestled between a pawn shop and pharmacy. You get a medium roast and add a healthy dollop of cream. You sit down at a table and try to piece together your life.

You’ve lost Johnny, your apartment, and pretty much your job. What else do you have left? What are you going to tell Lloyd? He’ll be expecting some sort of rent and you’ll be lucky to get that much on your next pay.

You glance over at the counter as a puff of steam hisses from one of the machines. You bite down on the inside of your lip and leave your cup at the table. It’s not really a downgrade, but you’ll miss the kids.

“Hey, excuse me, sorry,” you speak over the lower part of the counter where you can see the baristas at work, “I was wondering if you were accepting applications.”

“Oh, uh, yeah, there’s some part-time spots open,” the man calls back, “just Google us and it will come right up.”

“Uh, duh, I should’ve thought of that,” you laugh at yourself awkwardly, “anyways, thanks.”

“Boss is here, I can see if he’s free… he does all the interviewing.”

“I, um, I’d hate to be a bother–”

“Honestly, you wouldn’t,” he brings a mocha to the counter and signals to you as he calls out a name, handing over the drink to another customer. He turns back to you, his name tag reads Peter. “We need all the help we can get.”

“Right, er, okay, I guess… I guess if he’s free.”

“Sick, I’ll go run and get him,” he spins and waves at his coworker, “Ned, I’ll be right back.”

The other employee only rolls his eyes as he takes an order at the till. You hover there, waiting, wringing your hands nervously. Peter clamours back, out of breath, cheeks rosy.

“He’s coming,” he grins broadly, “I’m Peter.”

“I know,” you nod to his name tag.

“Oh, yeah,” he looks down goofily, “you?”

You give your name and shift your weight on your feet. He grabs another receipt and an empty cup.

“You can sit down, he’ll find you.”

“Okay, thanks again,” you show your teeth sheepishly then drag your feet back to your table.

You lower yourself into the seat and stare into the cup. It’ll be something until you can get better. Or go back to the daycare. You hate to think you won’t ever see the kids again.

“Uh, hey,” a man approaches, thumbs hooked in his jean pockets, “you the one?”

You look up, slightly startled as your worries split down the seams. You open and close your mouth as you peer up at his bright blue eyes. He seems familiar.

“Y-yeah, looking for a job,” you brace the table and go to stand. He stops you as he raises his palm and sits across from you. He turns his hand and offers it to you, “Cole.”

You once more say your name as you shake his hand. He clings a little bit longer than you expect but lets you go and rests his forearm across the table. He smiles and you stare back, waiting for him to say something.

“So…” his eyes widen as he remembers why he’s there, “you make coffee before?”

“Well, sort of. I can use a french press and I used to have a nespresso…” you let your voice trails off; before Johnny broke it. “But I can learn and I have loads of customer service experience.”

“I can tell,” he taps his fingers on the table, “you have a kind face. Does that sound weird?”

“Um, no, thanks, I think,” you keep your smile in place. He’s a bit strange but not unpleasant.

“I just bought this place, you know? Lots of changes so I wanna revamp it. Get some new faces in.”

“That’s exciting. It’s very… quaint,” you glance around.

“Ah, don’t worry, I know it needs work. Actually, I think… I don’t wanna offend you but we could use a good eye around here. A woman’s touch. You think maybe you’d have some ideas for the redesign?”

“Well, I… I only worked in a daycare, so I don’t…”

“I like that,” he snaps his fingers and points at you, “alright, well, Peter can show you how to use the espresso machine and I’ll come get you to look at swatches when you’re not too busy.”

He stands, surprising you as you can only gape up at him.

“Is that it?”

“That’s it,” he looks at his watch, “gotta call ma. It’s about that time.”

He strides away, leaving you absolutely upended. That was somehow the most and least stressful interview you’ve ever had. You shake your head and hug your coffee with your hands.

“When you’re done that,” Peter calls over, “I’ll teach you how to grind beans.”

“Oh, great,” you nod and look out the window, hiding your uncertainty. It’s not forever, just for a while. Just like Lloyd. You’ll be back on your feet soon.

#lloyd hansen #dark lloyd hansen #lloyd hansen x reader #the club #carpe noctem

[mrsbarnes32557038]

Well well well... I'm loving how forceful she is being with August. He deserves this. I'm going to need him to have to sit through a painstakingly thorough viewing of her dream boards and scrapbook.

Black Light 12

Warnings: noncon, namecalling, violence, other dark elements. Proceed with caution.

Note: Thank you for waiting! Please let me know what you think as it helps me a lot with ideas and I love interacting with you all.

Part of The Club AU

You feel a bit dreamy. Well, you always do. You sit in your bed, freshly made, fragrant with fabric softener, as you cut through the pages of old catalogues. Your fingers are sticky with glue as you arrange the images just so.

You can hear your mom downstairs, the bluetooth speaker playing Hall and Oates to her content. Your dad's outside trying to fix the fence post. You can hear him swearing through the crack of your window.

You hold out the scrapbook. You just need that globe right in that little space. Oh, the leather sofa is perfect.

You leave the book open on your bed to dry so the pages don't stick. You put on your dress with the daisies on white and spin in the mirror. Your yellow beret will go perfect. You put the hat on and a pair of matching clunky maryjanes.

You go downstairs and find your mother scavenging in the tupperware container you left on the counter. You squeal as she quickly closes the lid and covers her mouth guiltily. She backs away and giggles.

“I couldn't resist,” she says through a full mouth.

“Mom!” You stick your tongue out as you snatch up the container of cookies.

“You don't need all those,” she accuses.

“They're not for you.”

“I know, so… who are they for?” She tilts her head coyly.

“Someone,” you roll your eyes.

“A boy.”

You harrumph, “he's too old to be a boy.”

“Oh my gosh! That's so cute! Do we get to meet him?”

“No,” you pout and turn your chin up, “it's new.”

“Well, be safe. Don't get into too much trouble.”

“Yeah, yeah,” you drag your feet and stop in the doorway, “mom, can you not tell dad?”

She laughs again, “sure, sweetie, our little secret.”

You smile, cheeks twitching. You don't need your parents nosing around. You're still figuring this all out.

🍪

You wait outside the club. It's almost seven. You thought he'd be there by now. The other bouncer is. Lee, that's his name.

You're not weird or anything. You've just been watching from across the street for an hour or two. Not your fault he didn't leave his number.

You cross the road as you see Lee come back out. He sees you and smiles. He's so friendly, you wish August would try that.

“Hi,” you hop over the curb, “is Auggy here yet?”

“Auggy? Nah, he's taking his time,” he eyes the container in your hands, “what's this?”

“Oh, just a surprise. You want one?”

“Depends. What's the surprise?”

You balance the container against the scrapbook beneath it and pop the corner of the lid up. You offer him one of the jelly cookies. They took you hours as you baked and waited to cool before adding the layer of jam and custard.

“Wow, you're a big baker,” he muses.

“Sometimes,” you preen.

He takes one and admires your craftsmanship, “my wife ain't so good about it. But she tries, bless her heart.”

“Oh, you have a wife?”

“Sweetest gal in the world,” he grins, “she's at home with the baby.”

“Baby?”

“Ah, just a cat, but she treats him like a child,” he chortles and takes a bite, letting out a hum.

“Ooh, I love kitties! What's his name?”

He swallows, “Hickory. He likes her better'n me.”

“Aw, adorable.”

“Maybe you can come meet em one day. You and Auggy. Like a double date?”

“Really!?” You snap the lid shut, “oh, I'd love that so much.”

You hear grumbles and the tramp of soles as a shadowy figure appears from the alley. Lee turns and throws a hand put derisively, “bout time.”

August stops short as he looks between you and Lee, his expression limned in the early hue of evening. His brows draw together as he coughs. He crosses his arms and glowers.

“What is she doin’ here?”

“Ask her,” Lee says before he tosses back the rest of the cookie and turns on his heel.

He pulls open the front door and disappears as you stand watching August. He drops his arms and marches towards you, past you as he goes to follow his fellow bouncer. You quickly get between him and the door.

“Sweetie, I brought you cookies!”

“What?” He reaches past you as you put your back to the door.

“I haven't heard from you in…. Like three days.”

He glares at you. You open the container and show your wares. He only pulls on the door, jarring you but not dislodging you.

“I got work–”

“And I brought you a surprise! So eat a cookie.”

He narrows his eyes. You stay locked in a stalemate as he tries to pull the door again. You lean into it and plant your heels.

“I'm being real nice here, sweetie, so take a damn cookie,” you feel a surge in your chest.

“Can't you take a hint?”

“Can't you?”

“What– look, I told you, this isn't a relationship or whatever you think it is.”

“I'm not stupid. This is real,” you insist, “get it? Me and you, Auggy Bear, together forever.”

“What are you–”

“Here,” you shove the container at him.

He doesn't move but you jam it into his chest and he finally relents and supports it.

You slide the book from beneath it and open it up, “this is our future. You see? Our home,” you show him the little touches of colour amid the neutral hues, a perfect melding of your personalities, “and our honeymoon. I'm open to change but I was thinking a cottage–”

“Are you insane?” He breathes scratchily.

“Insane?” You repeat and bat your lashes, “don't call me that.”

“We fucked. Once. There's nothing else between us–”

“There is!” You holler and slam the book shut, “and you know it. You would never have followed me home if you didn't mean it–”

“Shhh, shhh,” he waves you down, “hey, lower your voice.”

“That's what you did. You stalked me, sir, so… you want me too. You want me or you wouldn't have done what you did.”

“Please, just… calm down.”

“You won't even eat a cookie!” You accuse.

“Be quiet,” he hisses.

“Eat a cookie!”

“Would you listen, girl?”

“No! No, you will eat a cookie. I spent all day making them and– and– I'm not crazy. I'm not,” you clutch the book tight.

He sighs, his blue eyes gleaming as he slowly lifts the lid. He takes out a cookie, showing it to you before he takes a nibble. He swallows without chewing.

“There, happy? Now go home.”

You scrunch your nose at him, frustrated, “you could at least tell me you love me.”

“Love you?!?” He chokes and nearly drops the cookie.

“Yes, I know you do, because I would never give my virginity to someone who doesn't love me.”

He blanches and glimpses down at the cookie. His throat bobs. He raises his eyes and takes another deep breath, “I didn't realise…”

“That you love me, right?” You sneer as you step closer, “say it.”

“If I do, will you go?” He growls.

You nod and smile up at him, “I'll do whatever you want, pookie.”

‘Pookie… jesus, alright, I love you. Go home.” He nudges you out of his way and grabs the door with his free hand.

“Don't eat those all at once,” you call as you turn to peek inside the club, “oh, and you have crumbs in your mustache–”

The door slams between you and you pout, “love ya too…” you trail off. It's okay, it seems like it's new for him too.

#august walker #dark august walker #august walker x reader #the club #black light

[mrsbarnes32557038]

“what do you think is better; taken or it’s complicated?”

“What are you talking about?”

“Well, you are holding a knife so maybe the latter,”

I love her so much! She cracks me up.

Black Light 11

Warnings: noncon, namecalling, violence, other dark elements. Proceed with caution.

Note: Thank you for waiting! Please let me know what you think as it helps me a lot with ideas and I love interacting with you all.

Part of The Club AU

The first time is supposed to hurt, right? It’s not always romantic, often clumsy, sometimes awkward. It wasn’t most of those things but you don’t know how to describe it. You lay staring at the ceiling, trying to untangle the riddle between your legs.

The faint tingle plucks at you. There were moments you were begging for more, others when you were praying he’d stop. It all blends together in a confusion jumble. You don’t know exactly how it felt or how you feel.

The steady ebb and flow of his breaths and low gristly snores whisper hotly into your scalp. You lay in discomfort, arms still bound behind you, though the gag droops down around your neck. You wiggle and struggle to roll over, facing August and his abnormally serene features. Really tired himself out, didn’t he?

What does it mean? You did all that and now he’s sleeping in your bed. Naturally…

You grunt and crush your hands under you as you sit up. You groan at the knot beneath your shoulder blade and the strain of muscle along your arms. God, you’re all cramped up.

You stand and gently pad around the room. It’s not very late at all. The alarm clock shaped like a lime beams out 10:37pm. Hmm, you would’ve thought him a night owl considering his line of work. Thinking of, shouldn’t he be outside a door barking at coeds?

You leave the room and scurry down the hall. You take your time on the stares, nervous you might fall over, and get down to the first floor. You go into the kitchen and flip on the light with your nose. Good thing your parents won’t be home, you don’t expect you could explain the belt around your wrists or your nudity.

You go to a drawer and turn your back to it. You slide it open and feel around blindly. You find a knife and angle it carefully in your fingers. You like the belt but your hands are throbbing.

You saw at the braided leather for a while. It falls away and the buckle clinks on the tile loudly. You gather up the remnants and toss them in the trash. Ugh, you feel better.

You go back upstairs, hoping to cover yourself up in something cozy. You enter the room and turn on the lights, eliciting a grumble from the man in your bed. Augusts rolls onto his back with his usual growl.

“Turn it off.”

You ignore him and go to your dresser, sliding open a drawer and pulling out your favourite nightie. The one with the little hearts all over it. He snarls again as the bed frame creaks and you turn to face him with the nightie, the knife poking up in your right hand. He sits up as his muscles tense across his chest.

You shake your head at him and open the top of the nightie to step into it. You shimmy up the fabric awkwardly, carefully not to poke yourself with the knife.

“I need to be able to see, sleepy head,” you chide.

He swings his legs over the side of the bed and stands, barrelling towards you. He surprises you as he chops at your wrist and you drop the knife as you recoil and catch the nightie before it can slump back down under your chest. You slide the straps up and let out a whine.

“What was that for?”

He bends and picks up the knife, pointing it at you, “don’t threaten me.”

“What? No, I… I used it to cut the belt. I just forgot–”

“Stupid girls shouldn’t play with knives,” he pokes you with the tip.

“Neither should you,” you stick out your tongue and step back, “god, that’s dangerous, you know?”

He gives you a look, that look you’ve got a million times before. As if what you’re saying is stupidly obvious and it is. He needs to put that down.

“Anyway, I was going to make some hot chocolate,” you shrug and turn back, “so do you want some? I have white or milk chocolate–”

“No,” he snips and lowers the knife.

“Coffee?” You offer, “tea?”

You sweep out of the room as you hold up a finger, thinking. Where did you– You dip into the bathroom as you pass it and retrieve your phone. You sense him behind you, not close, but following you.

“What are you doing?” He grits out.

“I told you, hot chocolate.”

“Give me the phone.”

“No,” you keep on, hopping down the stairs as you key into the phone.

“Give–”

“I’m just changing my status, take a chill pill, old man,” you toss over your shoulder as you get to the bottom of the stairs, “what do you think is better; taken or it’s complicated?”

“What are you talking about?”

“Well, you are holding a knife so maybe the latter,” you suggest as you continue on to the kitchen. You hit save as you blindly go to the stove and move the kettle onto the burner with one hand. “Done.”

“Done what?” He sneers as he fills the doorway with his large figure, naked and shameless. You give him a look and grab your father’s apron from its hook. You approach him and hold it out.

He glares at you and puffs. He snatches the apron and throws the knife into the sink. He ties it around his waist so you can’t see the silly moniker across the front; Mr. Good Lookin’ is Cookin’.

You put your phone on the counter and open a cupboard. He gets closer, looming just behind you. You take out the jar of cocoa mix and glance back as he squints at your phone.

"We're not dating," he growls.

"Um, okay, that's not what it seems like to me."

"I mean it, that wasn't–"

"Look, you call it what you want, going steady, a situationship."

He's silent. He huffs through his nostrils and backs away from your phone.

"Crazy…" he mutters.

"Pardon?" You grin in his direction.

"I have to get to work," he enunciates clearly as he shakes his head, "uh, bye."

#mr. good lookin is cookin #august walker #dark august walker #august walker x reader #the club #black light

[mrsbarnes32557038]

August treating Snickerdoodle like a snack. I think these two are my favorites in this AU. I love her personality. This part was amazing.

Black Light 10

Warnings: noncon, namecalling, violence, other dark elements. Proceed with caution.

Note: Thank you for waiting! Please let me know what you think as it helps me a lot with ideas and I love interacting with you all.

Part of The Club AU

August pulls his shorts down and you keep your eyes above his shoulders. You really can't handle this. Not right now. That jazzercise is already burning in your thighs.

As he comes towards you, you aim a foot at him. He knocks it aside easily, putting a knee on the bed as it dips beneath his weight. The other and you feel the mattress angle towards him. He grabs your knees, keeping your legs apart as he kneels before you.

You murmur around the sock, your words obscured as you feel like you're choking on your own tongue. You rock your hips, trying to slither away, trying to do anything as you crush your arms painfully beneath you. The panic swells in your chest and you bat your lashes up at the man, powerless to his unyielding strength.

"Looks like you got some use to you," his eyes focus on your cunt. You try to pull your knees together but he has you splayed wide. "Stop playing..." He bends over you, "it's the one's that act so damn innocent that want it the most."

You squeak as he nuzzles your lower stomach, sending you to squirm even more violently. He teethes the tender flesh as you squeal around the fabric tied around your mouth. He bites until it's unbearable. Not once, not twice, several times; along your belly, hips, and thighs, circling his ultimate goal. Taunting you.

You dig your heels into the bed but can't escape him. Your feet slip futilely and your sprawled and defeated again. He frames your pelvis with his large hands, the skin of his palms rough and his fingers calloused.

His hair falls forward as he bows over you and his shoulders round with burly muscle as he pins you in place. You hold your breath, watching the top of his head as his breath tickles your folds. He delves in with his cool tongue and you twitch. Oh... my?

You're not a prude by any means, a bit of a pillow rider when you're in the mood. When it comes to human interaction, you've only ever been vaguely flirt or entirely oblivious. The sensation of someone else touching you is new and surprisingly intoxicating.

Your muffled whimpering turns to a smoky moan as heat floods you, cascading down your legs and up your back. His tending is fervent but not overwhelming. He must know what he's doing if it feels like this.

You puff through your nose, head lolling as you sink into him. You know you shouldn't, in the back of your mind, you know you should resist, but you're only human. And, quite honestly, he's never been this nice to you.

He trails his hands down your legs and pushes them around his face, clamping them around his head as he growls and dives deeper into you. You gasp and gulp, dizzy amidst the war of emotions and sensations. Doubt, delight, despair, and dread boiling to a peak.

Your hips buck without your permission. Your body takes over what should be controlled by your mind. You can't hear yourself think as the pressure builds and you feel the well of your pleasure flooding over. You spasm and cum against his mouth.

He hums and it rolls through you. He lifts himself slowly. You cringe at the wetness in his dark mustache and for a moment wonder why exactly he went with that look. You pant, cheat heaving, as he sits back on his heels, dragging his fingers up your thigh and shoving them along your cunt.

You grunt as he jabs them into you, wiggling them, spreading them, stretching, feeling you and the slickness that coats you. He tuts and shakes his head. His eyes are alight and dilated.

"See, you want it. They always want it," he pulls his fingers out and presents them to you, glistening as a string of your cum dangles before you.

He moves closer on his knees and reaches for your head, poking his fingers into your mouth past the taut fabric. You cry out as he forces you to taste yourself. You try to turn your head but he nearly gags you as you do.

He tears his hand away and grabs your chin, holding your head in place as his other hand travels down his body. He grips his thick length, that veiny colossus you were trying not to focus on. Instead, you look him in the face, eyes glossy and lip poking out under the makeshift gag. You murmur words that turn to gibberish.

He squints at your poor attempt to plead with him. His arm pumps as he leans over you, your legs wide open around his thick thighs. He shifts and angles himself as he presses his tip along your folds. You babble and blink, lashes wet with the thin sheet of tears waiting to break through.

He grips your jaw tight. You want desperately to close your eyes, but you can't. You're too afraid. You just watching him as he pokes at your entrance. He enters you, just his tip, and stops, a brow tweaking as he takes in the twitch of your cheek.

His scars pale as he tilts into you further. You suck in air and keep your chest full. He doesn't look away, you don't either. He bends until his nose almost meets yours. He slings his arm beneath you and scoops you up suddenly, bringing you into his lap as he sits up.

You squeal as you slide down his length. He keeps his hand on your chin, his other falling to your hip as he pushes you as far as you can take him. You tremble and bat your lashes wildly, holding back the tears. You are strong, you won't let him get that much from you.

He lifts you, sliding you up his dick and holds you aloft, hugging only his tip. He waits, staring at you, searching for something. He slams you down and you let out a gust of hot breath and bite down on the gag. You snarl, that hurt.

You writhe as he does it again. And again. You quake and pull your head back, trying to take the brunt of his intrusion. He's just making you mad. He's so mean and you've only ever been nice. You fling your head forward and it glances off his nose.

He grunts and stills you on his lap as he hangs his head and snorts. He grunts, holding you down and snaps his hips up. He lifts his chin to look you in the face once more, his nose reddened and touch of blood along his nostrils. He snickers and glares at you.

"You're so stupid, you're almost brave," he growls as he ruts again, "almost."

#august walker #dark august walker #august walker x reader #the club #black light