#I swear no one in America knows what I’m talking about | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

cattordi · 4 months

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a/n hi i have explanation as to why i was gone for so long please don’t sue me. i wrote this after watching saltburn and watching 2037633 felix edits. but i honestly forgot how to write so im getting back into it. don’t judge :P

summary it’s 2006 and you’re an american who recently decided to study overseas in england at oxford and there’s one person who just won’t leave you alone

pairings felix catton x american!reader

warnings smut, orgasm control, begging, foul language, creampie/breeding, overstimulation, slight choking, oral sex, not proofread, smoking cigarettes(not reader), unprotected sex, fluff, angst, name calling, daddy kink, praise, 18+ MINORS DNI

chips or crisps?

“can i just get a vodka martini?” you ask the bartender. he nods and quickly scurries off to make your drink.

england is not what you expect it to me. it’s nice. nicer than america in your opinion but the people were something.

one person you just couldn’t shake stood in all his glory across the pub. “he’s gorgeous right?” a redheaded girl says as she walks from his direction towards you.

“uh no not really” you lie. no one in their right mind could think that felix catton was unattractive. he’s 6’5, has a gorgeous smile, and a very very hot body. the only thing about him that bothered you was how he teased you. m

you didn’t know if it was because you liked him or what. “no one thinks felix is unattractive. felix doesn’t even think felix is unattractive.” the redhead continues saying.

“um do i know you?” you ask as the bartender slides your drink across the bar and you had him 4 pounds. “oou an american. i’m annabel” she says.

“hm.” you say and turn to look in felix’s direction again. hes now looking over at the bar where you and annabel are. first hes staring at annabel and then his eyes wander over to you; catching your gaze. you quickly look away not wanting to hold eye contact but for some reason your eyes wander right back to him.

he’s now smiling at you goofily because you got caught staring.

you roll your eyes and turn back facing the bar. annabel walks away after getting her drinks and now you’re officially by yourself again.

just the way you liked it.

you finish off your drink and quickly get a new one.

times passes and more people start filing into the pub; which calls for more drinks. “chips or crisps?” you hear next to you and you already know who it is.

“what do you want felix?” you groan and throw your head back.

the way your mouth is open and your neck is exposed makes felix feel a way inside. “is it chips or crisps?”

“felix i swear-“ you begin but he cuts you off. “you swear what love?” he begins and you finally look at him, “you’re you’re slap me? you’ve done that before.”

“what is your fascination with me?” you snap and he looks so amused.

“that,” he says a points at me, “what you just did is my fascination with you love.” furrowing your eyebrows he continues, “the way i get you all riled up without even touching you.” he says and his mouth is next to your ear at the point.

the smell of bourbon wraps around your head and into your nose. “you’re drunk.” you say and he chuckles.

“i’m not. lighten up y/n, you know i like teasing you.”

you can’t really tell if he’s lying so you just stop talking hoping he goes away after he gets his drinks.

newsflash: he doesn’t.

“y/n?” he says.

“what could you want now felix?”

“talk to me, love.”

“don’t call me that.. and no.”

“you just spoke to me.”

you don’t speak this time and he chuckles, “this little game we’re playing,” he begins and gestures between the two of you,” is lovely.” his accent warms you inside.

“i’m leaving.” you groan and push off your chair. you quickly gather your purse and coat before walking out; all while not even glancing at felix.

the cold england air hits you like a truck as you step outside. “it’s awfully cold.” felix says.

you jump at the unexpected sound of his voice. “felix what the hell are you doing?”

“don’t be foolish y/n. it’s 10 at night. i’m walking you back to your dorm.”

“i don’t need you to walk me back.” you say and he shrugs, “i didn’t ask you that did i?”

“whatever.” you begin walking and you can hear felix walking behind you.

after about 5 minutes of walking he finally speaks, “so y/n why don’t you like me?”

you ignore him but he won’t take that for an answer, “y/n answer the bloody question.”

you still don’t answer.

“for fucks sake,m y/n.” he says and he sounds upset. “whatever.” is all you hear before a hand wraps around your wrist pulling you between a small alley.

“felix let go.” you groan in annoyance that he won’t just leave you alone. but behind your little act, you want him to bother you; in more ways than others.

“stop acting like i don’t exist.” he begins as he gets close to your ear, “stop acting like i don’t have an effect on you.”

“you don’t.” you whisper and that pisses him off more.

“y/n,” he scoffs and you feel yourself beginning to get wet,”you act the way you do because you know, everything i do makes you feel good.”

if only he knew how true that statement was.

you shake your head, looking up at him. “listen, im not like every other girl who bows down to you. you can’t think i’m just gonna give out.”

“and why wouldn’t you love? i see the effect i have on you. i try to be so nice to you love.. and you push me away.” he begins as his hand slides into your mini skirt. “i bet you’re soaking for me.”

you refuse to make eye contact so you look down at his chest. “look at me love.” you shake your head now causing him to grab you by your jaw. “i said look at me.”

you whimper quietly at the feeling of his hand now touching the wet spot of your panties. felix’s eyes soften at your sound, “do i make you this wet love?”

after a few seconds, you finally give into all the feelings. so you nod your head but this doesn’t satisfy him, “words.”

“yes.”

“good girl. now,” he begins before pulling his hands out of your panties; causing you to whimper again at the lost of touch, “let’s go to my dorm. i’m not taking you in a bloody alley, darling.”

with that, he grabs your hand and begins walking quickly in the direction of the dorms. you can’t help but notice how big his hand is compared to yours.. and how long his legs are. one of his steps is 3 of yours.

after another 30 seconds of walking he stops. “you walk awfully slow love.”

“well sorry i’m not-“ you begin but yelp as your feet leave the ground and felix throws you over his shoulder. “felix put me down!” you groan.

“darling we are like 3 minutes away. just let me carry you.” he says and smacks your butt. the stinging feeling after keeps you quiet.

those three minutes pass so quickly you don’t even realize he’s walked the stair of his dorm and is now unlocking the door.

slowly, felix sets you down and points to the bed. “take your skirt off.”

you hum in response before pulling your skirt down. he’s watching you intently with his arms crossed. his button up shirt is unbuttoned halfway down; revealing his sculpted chest.

“now your,” he begins and points at your panties. as you slide them off the moon shines on your glistening folds and a low groan comes out of him.

as you discard of you panties, felix walks over and stands between your legs. “look at me.” you do as he says, “is this what you want?”

felix begins squatting down slowly. “do you want to be mine y/n?” he ask when he’s parellel with your pussy. his hot breath sends shivers up your spine. “hm y/n? answer me love.”

his hands wrap around your thighs. “yes felix.. that’s what i want.” you moan out as he begins kissing your inner thigh.

“well before we start.. call me daddy.” he lips your pussy in between words, “and you only cum when i say so. understood?”

you whimper lightly, “yes daddy.”

you’d never called a guy daddy before but it got you off more than you expected.

“well then,” with that felix’s mouth attacks your folds and clit causing your back to arch in pleasure.

your hands find his hair as he continues licking up and down your slit; ever so often he’ll hum and the feeling it gives almost pushes you over the edge.

“can i cum please daddy?” you ask and he hums something that sounds like a no. “please, please i want to cum.”

the begging and humming goes on for another minute or so until felix stops. “what happened?” you ask breathlessly.

“you tasted delicious darling, but i don’t want you to cum until i’m in you.”

he quickly pecks you on the lips before rolling you onto your stomach. you can’t see what he’s doing but his shadow cast on the wall as he stands.

you hear his belt being undone and soon his hand cupping your ass. “god, you’re perfect darling” he groans as his hand slides down; his accent is music to your ears.

“thank you..” you moan as he moves his dick between your wet folds. “thank you what?”

his hand wraps around your throat, “say it y/n.” the way your name rolls off his lips makes you feel so good. “thank you daddy.”

“good girl.” with that he slides in. you couldn’t see how big it was but you could definitely feel it. you moan in pleasurable pain as he stretches you.

doggystyle wasn’t always your first choice of positions because after a lot bit it was too much. every thrust would hit your cervix and begin hurting but with felix: it felt good.

“so- damned- tight.” he says and thrust harder in between words. you dig your face into the comforter moaning.

his hand snakes around your body to the front and begins rubbing your clit in small agonizingly pleasing circles. “felix-“

a sharp smack hits your ass, “that’s not my name y/n.”his hips continue to smack into you as he fucks you senselessly. “what’s my name?”

“fuck i need to cum.” you moan and he smacks your ass again, before grabbing you by the neck and pulling you up towards his chest continuing to fuck you. the new position caused him to hit your g spot in more ways than before. “what’s my name?” he ask through gritted teeth.

you’d never felt this kind of pleasure with anyone before. “can i please cum, daddy?”

“that’s what i like to hear.. but no.” his hand continues massage your swollen bud as he breathes heavily on your neck; fucking you maliciously. “god, do you feel god. all wet for me.. letting me fuck you to no avail like daddys slut.”

“please can i come daddy? please.. you feel so good.” you moan,

he pushes you back onto the bed, holding your by the neck; keeping you in place. “please daddy can i cum?” the feeling of release deepens so much and you can’t take it.

“i can’t take it.” you say through pleasured cries. the way he rubs your clit and hits your g spot repeatedly overstimulates you.

“yes you can and you will y/n.” he begins, “you’re mine now. all mine. no one could fuck you like i do. don’t you agree?”

you nod while whimpering out hushed “yes daddy”’s

“good. do you want to cum?”

“yes, yes please.”

“beg. and make sure it’s loud. i want everyone in this dorm to hear how much of a slut you are for my cock.”

“please daddy. please can i come? i want to make you feel good.” you plead and you have to admit: you can be louder.

“that’s not loud enough darling.” he says and stops rubbing your clit. the lost of friction causes you to whimper. “louder.”

“please daddy. i need to come. please, i can’t take it anymore.” you grab the sheets of his bed and grip them tight as an anchor as he fucks you.

“louder y/n, you’re almost there.” he groans. you can tell he’s getting close as well. his grip on your hips has tightened and you can feel his shaft pulsing slightly against your walls.

his fingers touch your clit again and you moan loudly, “oh my gosh, can i please cum daddy? you feel so good in me. i want to cum all on your dick.”

this time you’re so loud he’s even threatened to cover your mouth. “cum love. milk my cock like i know you’ve wanted too since we met”

at the sound of his permission, you release your orgasm. white flashes take over your vision as you release what felix has took his time to build up.

he continues to fuck you through your orgasm causing more pleasure. moaning loudly, you arch your back towards him. “holy hell, you’re so tight around me.”

he groans and pushes your hips into the bed. his thrust begin to slow and become sputtered movements. “you were made for me y/n.. so perfect.” he groans as releases hot white spurts that coat your walls.

the way he talks to you turns you on even more as you come down from your high. he continues to fuck you slowly as his cum drips out of you and onto your clit.

“fuck y/n..” he moans softly as he pulls out slowly. you continue laying down trying to catch your breath as he stands.

you hear things being more behind you but you’re too weak to turn your head and look. after a few seconds, you feel felix straddling you. “roll over.”

you do as he says to reveal he’s holding a cloth. “open your legs for me..”

slowly, you open your legs to reveal your swollen sex. “you did so good love.”

felix squats lowly and begins wiping you up. “thank you.”

smiling at you he continues,”but you know.. you never answered my question.”

“hm?”

“chips or crisps?”

#felix catton #saltburn #felix catton smut #felix catton fic #jacob elordi x reader #felix catton saltburn #felix catton fluff #felix catton x y/n #felix catton x reader #felix catton x you #saltburn x reader

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betterbooktitles · 3 months

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"I’m certain I’m not the only millennial who feels we as a nation have taken a dizzying turn when it comes to drugs. I remember a uniformed police officer showing up once a week in 5th Grade (a year before Sex Ed) to explain how to avoid buying and taking drugs. Luckily, I already knew the dangers of the drug trade because I had seen The Usual Suspects. I knew cocaine was a bad thing to buy, sell, or steal, especially from a drug kingpin. The D.A.R.E. program, however, let me know how important it was to say no to anything fun, including alcohol. At least until I understood a little algebra first. We did role-playing exercises where we walked one by one toward the portly police officer and he casually asked if we wanted to hit a mimed joint with him. All we had to do was say “no” and walk to the other side of the room, defying the only rule I knew about improv. We wrote essays about how important it was to preserve our pristine bodies and minds, obviously unsullied since we had yet to take the class teaching us how puberty was going to defile them both. I’m still mad that my friend Nicole’s essay beat mine in a contest, and she got to read hers in front of the whole school all because she had the benefit of an older brother who took too much acid and sat in her room all night talking about why the existence of light proved God was real. My essay about a time I saw my friend’s dad drink a beer and then drive his truck somewhere was also good! We signed pledges to enter the new millennium drug-free. We took the red pencils that said “Friends Don’t Let Friends Do Drugs” and sharpened all of them down to say “Let Friends Do Drugs,” “Friends Do Drugs,” “Do Drugs,” and simply “Drugs.” Despite that little rebellious act, my friends and I spent a solid six months swearing we’d never put any harmful substance into our bodies besides every form of candy available.

Imagine how I feel now as a D.A.R.E. graduate becoming my dad’s drug dealer. It’s less thrilling than I thought it would be. Between my father’s warning not to hang around one specific neighborhood in Cleveland as a kid and nearly every TV show about drugs, I thought I’d always be buying marijuana from an intimidating dude who definitely had a gun and would use it immediately if he thought I was wearing a wire. Instead, I now buy marijuana from a well-lit storefront that looks like the Apple Store. I’ve even gone to a place where a guy with an iPad explained what each available strain would do to me. I buy what sounds good with all the confidence of a man pointing at items on a menu written in a language he can’t read. I put it all in a cardboard box. I place a book on top. I mail the box to my dad from my local post office. I tell myself the book is to hide the contraband crossing state lines, but in truth, the book is what clears my conscience. I want to send my dad something edifying while also sending him the drug that all of America worried would make me unable to read if I tried it once. The unrequested book is a red herring to distract from the vice, like when you were young and didn’t want to buy condoms outright at the store so you cushioned them between a pack of peanut M&Ms and a magazine. Hmm, what else did I need, — right, while I’m here — might as well pick up a few condoms.

Right as marijuana becomes legal in most states, I’m about done with the drug. I’ve had three good times on edibles, and one of them was when I felt nothing and fell asleep at 9:30 PM. I’m flabbergasted that my dad likes edibles. He seems to be a man free of anxiety. Case in point, I once brought him some THC lozenges to our summer holiday in Chautauqua, and around dinner time I told him “You might want to only take half of what I gave you” to which he replied, “I took it hours ago.” He was stoned and no one noticed.

While I’m stuck in my head, stoned or sober, wondering why I didn’t take some acting gig 15 years ago, wondering if I’ll ever make enough money, worrying I’m doing everything wrong including in this moment as I write this sentence, my dad is enjoying himself.

Judith Grisel, the author of Never Enough: The Neuroscience And Experience of Addiction, describes using marijuana as throwing “a bucket of red paint” on your brain. She was approaching the stimulant clinically in terms of how it differed from the laser focus of other drugs (THC reacts with many receptors in the brain, cocaine focuses on one), but now every time I smoke, I think of the red paint metaphor. While other people seem able to crank an entire joint and do insanely complicated stuff like function at their jobs, I am reduced to a gelatinous blob, on top of which my eyes and brain are navigating a dream state that, like many dreams, isn’t all that interesting the next day. Mostly, I get high and can’t decide what I want to watch on TV or what video game I want to play, I realize how hungry I am, and then I fall asleep with cereal still stuck to my teeth. Pot, for me, is like the squid ink hitting the screen in Mario Kart: I can still see where I’m going, but everything gets a little harder to do, and the panicked half-blindness makes everything slightly more chaotically fun."

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An essay on Claire Dederer's book Monsters and movies made by monsters.

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#writing #essay #essays #lit #literary #funny #lol #drugs #books #humor #reading #better book titles #dan wilbur #bibliophile #pot #d.a.r.e #just say no #comedy

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tongue-like-a-razor · 1 year

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hangman request incoming ‼️‼️

so the reader is best friends w rooster and whenever she’s around hangman he’s always quite rude to her, only bc he’s harbouring huge feelings for her which he isn’t very used to. then maybe he goes too far and rooster needs to talk some sense into him (reader could be a pilot or just a close friend of rooster’s)

SORRY i’m not great and giving requests but i hope there’s something in there that you like !

Ahhhh I LOVE this request!! And I really loved writing this piece, which may or may not turn into a series.. oops I couldn't resist haha

Less Talk | Part I

Jake Seresin x F!Reader

Summary: Jake can't stand Bradley's best friend. What's more, he's probably in love with her, which really pisses him off.

CW: mild angst, Hangman being a dick aka Hangman being himself, unresolved sexual tension, swearing, drinking

Masterlist

“Do you ever not have an opinion?” Jake watches you irritably before taking a long swig of his drink. He needs the alcohol to calm his nerves so that he doesn’t inadvertently push you off your chair.

You glare at him. “You’d like that, wouldn’t you? A nice, safe space for Seresin to dominate the conversation without opposition.”

Jake lets out a steady breath. No one riles him quite like you do. “We’re talking about food, Y/N. It doesn’t exactly have global ramifications.”

“Actually, it does,” you respond matter-of-factly. “And are you saying I shouldn’t have an opinion unless it is ground-breaking in nature? Maybe I should just sit here quietly and look pretty.”

“Ha!” Jake cackles. “I would love to see you try.”

“Hangman!” Bradley, who’s sitting to your right, gives him a disapproving look.

You make a grimace. “I will never give you that kind of satisfaction.”

Jake meets your gaze with a hostile look. The thought of you satisfying him in any way sort of disorients him. He makes a face at you because he can’t deny that if you were to just sit there in silence, you would be exceptionally pleasant to look at. Pretty, even… maybe. Instead, he says, “How the fuck does eating avocado toast for lunch have global implications? I would love to know.”

“The recent surge in consumption of avocados - thanks to health nuts such as yourself - has led to an unprecedented increase in price to the point where those people whose culinary staple for generations has been the avocado cannot afford to keep it their diet.” You fold your arms over your chest to drive your point home while Jake just stares at you, speechless. No other woman in the world has ever rendered him that. He glances over at Bradley who is looking back at him with a slight grin. Just when Jake thinks you might be all talked out, you add, “And don’t even get me started on the environmental burden of growing enough avocados to sustain the whole of North America’s health culture.”

Jake blinks at you. “Trust me, I wasn’t planning on it.”

“The avocado trade is contributing to local violence and extortion” – you continue, but Jake cuts you off.

“Okay, okay!” he says. “I’ll never eat an avocado again.”

“Just quit spreading your avocado propaganda!”

“It’s not propaganda! They’re actually good for you!”

“How wonderful it must be living in a world where your needs come before everybody else’s,” you say bitterly.

“Can we please talk about something other than avocados?” he says tiredly, his eyes sliding to Bradley in a plea for assistance.

“If you’re looking for a topic on which I do not have an opinion” – you say, but Jake interrupts you again.

“Does such a topic exist?” he asks flatly.

You roll your eyes at him. “Did you ever think that maybe you’re the one who should talk less?”

Jake nods. “Certainly. I should talk less to you. Because you’re driving me crazy, lady.” He stands up after having downed the rest of his drink. “I’m getting another beer and, when I return, I’m going to have a conversation with my good friend here, Rooster.”

Bradley shakes his head and looks over at you. “Don’t mind him, he’s just a bitter, bitter man.”

“A bitter man who needs to be schooled on occasion,” you mutter.

Jake turns to look at you with wide eyes. He slides back into his seat. “I heard that,” he says dangerously, inclining into the table.

“Good,” you respond, leaning forward so that your noses are nearly touching. “You were meant to.”

“You are so fucking annoying,” he whispers, his eyes slipping momentarily to your mouth as you lick your lips.

“Hangman, come on, don’t be a dick,” Bradley says, also putting his weight into the table in an attempt to intervene.

Jake’s eyes are still scanning your face as you glare at him without moving away. The truth is, he could probably listen to you talk about the problematic export of Mexican avocados for hours just to watch your mouth move and to hear the passion in your voice. But he’s tired of the tunnel vision he experiences every time your boyfriend ditches you and you end up going out with your best friend, Bradley Bradshaw. This is the fifth time this month that you’ve accompanied Rooster to ‘guys’ night out’ and it’s becoming more and more difficult for Jake to shake you after each successive evening of relentless verbal sparring.

Out of the corner of his eye, Jake can see Bradley slowly inching off the table, having realized that he may be a third wheel. But Jake doesn’t need him to be some sort of wingman in this bizarre scenario where he may or may not be completely in love with an unavailable woman who happens to be an expert at pushing all his goddamn buttons. Normally, he would remedy this kind of matter with a good old romp in the hay but, considering the fact that you are in a relationship, this option is, unfortunately, off the table. Besides, he’s not entirely sure it wouldn’t have the opposite effect on him, anyway.

But, despite all the reasons for avoiding your pull, Jake can’t look away, not even for a second; not even to get another beer. He moves his face a millimeter closer to yours, just to see what would happen; not because your breath smells like Peach Schnapps and not because your eyes are absolutely destabilizing him. His nose is about a split second away from brushing yours when your phone buzzes on the table. You flinch, withdrawing immediately, leaving Jake to watch you try to frantically pick it up. You shoot him one last intimidating look before rising from the table.

“Hey, babe,” he hears you say as you walk away.

“What’s your deal, man?” Bradley says as Jake watches you step outside.

Jake shakes his head solemnly. “Doesn’t she have other friends to play with?” he asks. ��Why’re you always babysitting her?”

Bradley fixes Jake with a knowing look. “Hangman,” he says with a suggestive squint to his eye. “Is there something you want to tell me?”

Jake stares at Bradley. “Yeah,” he says. “I want to tell you that your bestie is a pain in the ass, Rooster.”

Bradley’s jaw hardens. “You’re way out of line.”

“Come on, I can’t be the only one who finds her absolutely infuriating. The girl never shuts up!”

Bradley narrows his eyes. “And you don’t, at all, find that sort of thing attractive?” he says sarcastically.

“Attractive? I find it immensely aggravating, actually.”

“So aggravating that you argue right back every time,” Bradley points out with a smirk. “Movies, books, social constructs. Last week, I heard you guys bickering about space waste. What do you even know about space?”

“What does she know about space?” Jake responds angrily, pointing toward the door with his entire arm.

Bradley leans back in his seat with a sigh. “I know that you don’t actually hate her, Jake,” he says. “You can stop pretending.”

“Who’s pretending?” Jake looks up at him aggressively.

Bradley purses his lips. “What if I told you that her boyfriend is a shithead?”

Jake’s jaw tightens but he continues to stare at Bradley coldly. “Why the fuck would I care?” he says.

Bradley returns his callous expression before looking away. “Been trying to get her out of that relationship for months.”

Jake lets out a sigh. “She’s a grown-ass woman, she can decide for herself if she wants to end it.”

Bradley nods. “Yeah, you’re probably right.”

Jake rises from his seat, his eyes unintentionally drifting up to check if you’re still outside. He sees you pacing back and forth through the big window of the bar. You look like you’re arguing. Big surprise. “Want another beer?” he asks Bradley.

“Please,” Bradley says.

Jake nods at the cocktail you’ve been drinking. “She going to have another one?”

Bradley shrugs. “Probably, unless you’ve pissed her off enough that she decides to leave early.”

Jake scoffs. “She’d be doing me a favor.”

Bradley shakes his head with a laugh. “I don’t even know what she’s drinking, man.”

Jake shifts his jaw. “I do.”

Bradley gives him another piercing look. “Shocking,” he says with a smirk.

“Shut the fuck up, Bradshaw,” Jake says under his breath as he walks away. He glances back at the window behind which you’re now waving your arm around aggressively and yelling into the phone. He tears his gaze away from you, frustrated with himself for even giving a damn.

For some reason, he feels a painful pang in his chest, like he’s jealous of whomever it is you’re tearing into. You’ve never gone off on him quite like that and he can’t help the resentment this fosters. He tries to suppress the impulse to go out after you and rip your stupid phone right out of your hand. That would surely reclaim at least a fraction of your attention. Then maybe he could do something unexpected; something that might persuade you to channel your passion in a more constructive way.

He orders three drinks and walks back to the table with the beers before going back for your cocktail. When he returns, he exhales sharply, giving Bradley a humorless look. “Why’s her boyfriend a shithead?” he says, feeling his hands forming into fists before Bradley even has a chance to respond.

But, right when Bradley’s about to speak, you walk back into the bar.

Read Part 2

A/N: Hope you enjoyed this piece! It's my first Hangman story, so let me know what you think!

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unalivejournal · 5 months

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imagine a tumblr simulator set in the velvet goldmine universe lmfao

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🎹 wilderatz Follow

DNI if you still support br*an sl*de after the shooting hoax. what he did was fucking unacceptable and pathetic. the panic and heartbreak on the dashboard that day was absolutely traumatizing. and the fact that it was all for cheap publicity makes it even more despicable. if you HAVE to listen to his records the least you could do is buy them secondhand

#so glad curt never cut that record with him

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⭐️ glittersisgay

i got new boots! seeing the flaming creatures tonight :-) life is good

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👨🏻‍❤️‍💋‍👨🏼 wildemons Follow

sorry but the sladewild narrative is CRAAAAZY. like imagine you start off as a nobody performer and becoming enthralled by this rockstar after he shows up your act and you end up becoming famous by being inspired by his stage presence AND YOU BECOME FAMOUS ENOIGH TO GO TO AMERICA AND MEET THIS GUY AND YOUR LABELS START FABRICATING A RELATIONSHIP BETWEEN U TWO TO GENERATE PUBLICITY FOR YOUR NEW ALBUM BUT THEN YOU ACTUALLY FALL IN LOVE AND HAVE TO KEEP IT A SECRET BUT THEN THE PAPARAZZI FINDS OUT AND YOU HAVE A HUGE FALLING OUT BUT THEN A FEW WEEKS LATER YOURE SPOTTED IN THE CROWD AT THE DEATH TO GLITTER SHOW

♻️ 🦷 roxytunes Follow

lmfao WHAT are you talking about. swear to god i’m sick of you invasive freaks trying to make things up about real peoples lives. the part about the labels trying to market slade and wild as a couple isn’t even true. yes they were heavily publicized as close friends but they never admitted to being in a relationship. also receipts on brian being at the death to glitter show???? stop spreading false information

♻️ 👨🏻‍❤️‍💋‍👨🏼 wildemons Follow

anyways watch out for my new sladewild maxwell demon tour era fic that will be published in my next zine 💋

#my mutual was literally next to him in the crowd.

58 notes

🪩 girlboydragdemon

at the Sombrero Club with the glamrocktuals YAYYYY

♻️ 🪩 girlboydragdemon

Hangover.

#we may have made. mistakes. #also we think brian slade’s former manager was in the booth behind us

11 notes

🌟 venusinpurrs

♻️ 🎸 balladofmaxwellsemen Follow

WHY ARE WE PITTING THREE BAD BITCHES AGAINST EACH OTHER

♻️🌟 venusinpurrs

better question WHY ARE VENUS IN FURS LOSING GUYS CMON ITS OBVIOUSLY THE RATS

♻️🌟 venusinpurrs

do you people hate dykes

244 notes

💋 jack-fairy-fan51 Follow

Anyone else feel like this Tommy stone guy showed up out of nowhere?

6 notes

❇️ 20th-cxntury-bxy

Well…. it’s been a fun time on the road with Malcolm & co. (@/theflamingcreatures) but in the months following the hoax and the death to glitter tribute I’ve been feeling more and more inclined to move on. idk. i know there’s still an active tumblr community but in the real life scene it feels like everyone’s just…. given up. I’ll be starting a new job soon and won’t have a lot of time to post. Might delete this blog in the near future. remember to support local shows and keep being yourself

#a.journal

0 notes

👨‍🎤 lipstickkissedelbowglove

word on the street is that mandy slade divorced brian???? lmao get his ass

♻️👨‍🎤 lipstickkissedelbowglove

[#finally i have a chance with her]

you’re funny if you think any of us on this site have an inkling of a chance with her

2,658 notes

🎸 balladofmaxwellsemen Follow

Just found this on the sidewalk. does anyone know what it is?

7 notes

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sergeantbarnessdoll · 2 months

Text

I Got You » Bucky Barnes/Winter Soldier

Pairings: Boyfriend/Avenger!Bucky Barnes x Girlfriend!Reader with Steve Rogers/Captain America, Sam Wilson/Falcon, and Natasha Romanoff/Black Widow

Summary: Y/N gets kidnapped by HYDRA and Bucky saves her.

Warnings: Fluff, language, HYDRA, kidnapping, blood and bruises, crying, hugs and kisses, cuddling, Bucky being the best/protective boyfriend ever, use of pet names

A/N: This is based off a dream I had.

Written on my phone. I’m sorry for any mistakes and typos.

Header made by @buckys-wintersoldier

Bucky was pacing back and forth in the lounge room of the Avengers Compound, wondering why you are there yet. You told him that you would hangout at the Compound while he trains for an upcoming mission.

“What’s wrong with you?” Sam asks, walking in the room.

“I’m worried about Y/N.” Bucky says.

“Did something happen to her?” Sam asks.

“I don’t know. That’s what I’m trying to figure out.” Bucky says, running his fingers through his hair.

Natasha walks in the lounge room with a phone in her hand.

“Barnes, someone’s on the phone for you.” Natasha says, handing him the phone.

Bucky furrows his eyebrows, taking the phone from her. If it’s you, you would’ve called his phone.

“Hello?” Bucky answers.

“Didn’t take long to get ahold of you, Winter Soldier.” The man says in a Russian accent.

“What the hell do you want?” Bucky asks.

“It’s more like who I have.” The man chuckles. “Meaning, your precious doll.” He says.

Bucky felt his heart drop and his mind started racing. He began thinking the worst.

“I swear if you do anything to her. I’ll-” Bucky got interrupted.

“You’ll what, Soldat? Kill me? That wouldn’t do you any good if you want to find your best girl alive.” The man says and hung up.

Bucky stood there frozen as the line went dead. His blood began to boil. He shoved the phone in Natasha’s hand and went to find Steve. Sam and Natasha looked at each other in confusion before following Bucky.

“Steve, get your shield.” Bucky says, walking in the conference room.

“Why?” Steve asks, furrowing his eyebrows.

“Barnes, what’s wrong? Who was on the phone?” Natasha asks.

“HYDRA. They have Y/N.” He tells them.

“What did he say?” Sam asks.

“That they have Y/N and that’s it.” He explained. “I really need to find her.” He says, tears brimming his eyes.

“We’ll find her, Buck.” Steve says softly, putting a comforting hand on his best friend’s shoulder.

Meanwhile, you woke up to the feeling of your head pounding. You moved to get up, only to find out that you were strapped down to a chair, making you furrow your eyebrows in confusion.

“I was wondering when you would going to wake up. I was beginning to think that one of my men struck you too hard and killed you.” A man’s voice said.

You looked up, seeing a bunch of people surround you.

“My name is-” You interrupted him.

“I don’t care what your fucking name is. Where the hell am I?” You asked.

You yelped when his hand smacked you across your face, hard enough to make your head turn. He gripped your jaw roughly and looked in your eyes.

“It’s rude to interrupt people when they’re talking.” He says.

He let go of your jaw and walked away for a moment before watching back towards you.

“Now, you know someone we want back.” He says.

“I don’t know who you’re talking about.” You lied, knowing that he’s talking about Bucky.

“Really? The name James Buchanan Barnes doesn’t sound familiar to you?” He asks.

“No.” You lied again.

“Liar!” He shouts, smacking you again causing you to whimper in pain. “You know who he is cause you’re wearing his Army dog tags!” He yells. “Where is he?” He asks.

“Fuck you!” You shouted. “He’d never come back to this hell hole!” You say.

The man chuckled before turning to two of his men.

“Take her to a cell.” He tells them.

They nodded and uncuffed you from the chair, carrying you down the hallway. You tried your best to fight them off, but their grip on you was too strong. The more you fought them, the tighter their grip got. When they got you to a cell, they threw you in there. You fell to the floor and hit your head causing you to whimper in pain. You put a hand on the spot where you hit your head, feeling a little bit of blood trickling into your hand. You sat against the wall in the corner of the cell, pulling your knees up against your chest and wrapped your arms around them.

“Bucky, where are you? Please hurry.” You say to yourself, tears rolling down your cheeks.

Meanwhile, Bucky, Steve, Sam, and Natasha were on their way to you. Bucky tugging at his hair and was pacing back and forth in the quinjet, feeling like he was losing his mind. Bucky’s mind immediately started thinking the worst.

“Buck…” Steve snaps Bucky out of his thoughts. “We’re going to find her.” He says.

“What if we don’t? It’ll be my fault for not saving her.” Bucky says.

“None of this is your fault and you know it. Y/N knows it too.” He says softly, putting a comforting hand on Bucky’s shoulder.

“I can’t lose her, Steve. She’s the love of my life. I won’t survive without her.” He tells his best friend with tears in his eyes.

Steve gave Bucky a hug.

“I’m sorry to break up your moment, but we’re at the base.” Sam informs the Super Soldiers. “Are you ok, man?” He asks Bucky.

“I will be when I get the love of my life back.” Bucky says.

Bucky, Steve, Sam, and Natasha got off of the quinjet and cautiously approached the base, finding an unlocked door. They went inside of the base and split up so they could find you. You jumped at the sound of an alarm and gunshots. You stayed in the corner of the room, continuing to hug your knees. The next thing you knew, the door was kicked down causing you to cover your head in fear and your heartbeat to pick up. Bucky carefully approached you, making sure to not scare you.

“Doll, it’s Bucky.” Bucky says softly.

You uncovered your head and looked up, seeing your boyfriend. You immediately stood up and hugged him, breaking down into tears. Bucky held you tightly in his arms, tears escaping his eyes.

“You’re ok. I got you, babydoll.” He whispers.

He pulled away from the hug to kiss you passionately. Bucky felt relieved, knowing that you’re ok.

“I’m so happy that you’re alive.” Bucky says in almost a whisper, looking deep in your eyes.

He kissed you once more before informing Steve, Sam, and Natasha that he found you and you’re alive and safe. He picked you up bridal style and carried you to the quinjet, taking you to the Compound. Bucky helped you get cleaned up and patched you up, kissing each one of your injuries. Luckily you sustained minor injuries. Bucky has not left your side in the past few days. He helped you through a nightmare when you woke up crying. He held you close to him and you guys watched movies to get your mind off of everything. He even made coffee for you in the morning.

“How’s Y/N doing?” Steve asks Bucky.

“Last night, she had a nightmare and woke up crying.” Bucky tells them.

“She’s going to get through this, Bucky.” Natasha says, putting a comforting hand on his right arm.

“We’re here for her if she needs anything.” Sam says.

“Thanks, guys.” Bucky smiles at them.

Everyone went quiet when you walked in the kitchen. You smiled softly at them, playing with one of the sleeves of your -Bucky’s- sweatshirt.

“You ok, doll?” Bucky asks, handing you your coffee and wrapped his arms around you.

“I’m fine. I just got lonely.” You say, taking a sip of your coffee.

Bucky held you close to him and kissed the top of your head.

“I wanted to tell you guys thank you for helping Bucky save me.” You say.

“We’d do it again.” Steve says with a smile.

“We’re here for you, Y/N.” Natasha says.

“We’re just happy that you’re ok.” Sam says.

You gave them a smile. They left the kitchen, giving you and Bucky time alone.

“Thank you for saving me, Bucky.” You say, looking up at him.

“You don’t have to thank me, doll. I will save you no matter what.” Bucky says softly with a smile.

Bucky took your coffee from your hands and put it on the counter. He cupped your cheeks and kissed you passionately. Bucky is so happy to have his best girl back. He’s going to do everything he can to protect you. One thing’s for sure, he’s never letting you out of his sight again.

“I love you so much, doll.” Bucky says softly, moving a piece of your hair from your face.

“I love you more, Buck.” You say in almost a whisper, looking in his beautiful blue eyes.

🩵🩵🩵🩵🩵🩵🩵🩵🩵🩵🩵🩵🩵🩵🩵🩵🩵

-Bucky’s Doll

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ieatangstforbreakfast · 7 months

Text

Pairing ೃ⁀➷ Earth 42! Miles Morales x Fem! Reader

Summary ೃ⁀➷ Lovers have secrets of their own, no matter how much they come to trust each other, whether it be a past mistake or an unspoken trauma. For you and Miles, however, your secrets came in the form of hidden identities— one being a masked vigilante, and the other a mastermind.

Genre ೃ⁀➷ Forbidden love, mutual pining, eventual angst♡

Tags ೃ⁀➷ Both are artists, reader is from a very wealthy family, both are living double lives, underaged smoking, reader is female and uses she/her pronouns, forbidden love (ish?), swearing, daddy issues, mommy issues, reader is unhinged, both are mentally unstable, lots of flirting.

Author's Note ೃ⁀➷ Chapters are a bit rushed, sorry bout that 😭 hope u enjoy tho

Chapter 1: Behind the chain

Warning ೃ⁀➷ Profane language, underaged smoking, mention of death, horrible Spanish. Also, I don’t live in America so idrk how people talk there, so please bear with me.

FIC MASTERLIST

Next Chapter

“Hello? Yeah, I’m at practice.”

As your feet hit the ground, the chain link fence shutters from the release of your weight— a sigh escaping your lips as you pull your phone up closer to your ear. The sound of your aunt's nags echo from your phone, bellowing across the abandoned subway and overpowering even the sound of your boots hitting the damp ground. It was shrill, her voice. Like a fork being dragged down a piece of fine china. Activating the flashlight of your phone, you swiftly slip your head out of your hood, the new spot now staring back at you like an empty canvas— devoid of life and color. It’s tragic.

As you trudge down the narrow space, your senses begin to process the stench of the horror movie-like scenery. You could heard the pipes’ leaking going along with your aunt’s ongoing lecture about something you couldn’t recall— somehow distracting you from your search.

But what certainly made you uneasy was the chill.

You hated the cold. You hated the way it’d ice your feet, dry your skin, restrict your clothes, and clog your nose. Though ironically, autumn was the season you found most enjoyable. Most of the nostalgia you bore came from the sight of those scarlet leaves— the smell of pumpkin spice, your mother’s old scarves, and the earthly rich tones of orange and red. It’d been so long, though, since your last happy memory in the season.

Nowadays, the nights are just longer, and the days shorter.

Soon enough, you stop before a tall, white wall, making you gasp as though you’d just won the lottery. Only then you started bidding your farewells to your aunt, who was beyond exasperated with your hurried adieu. Shoving the gadget down your pocket, your backpack falls right off your shoulder with a small thump, eyes still glued onto the blank space.

You make your way towards one of the seats, settling down your stuff while slipping your vape out the crevices of your sleeve and taking a slow puff— the taste of peppermint flourishing through your lips and covering up the stench of whatever was rotting in the railways.

"You're early." A familiar, sarcastic growl emits from the shadows. You turn around as the light from your phone blinds him, making him wince.

“I missed you.” You playfully answered.

The familiar gleam of hazel blinks and stares right back at you, the same stoic stare narrowing from your comment.

“Sure you did.” He huffs.

In the back of your mind, the same phrase bellows.

Well, well, well. If it ain’t Miles Morales.

It was one night, two months ago, when the two of you first met. You were an utter mess, and so was he— and it just so happened that beneath all that rain, the two of you found each other at the right time, at the right place. Supposedly.

The two of you bonded in loneliness and art. It was almost poetic, especially knowing that the two of you were anything but good for each other.

But you believed that that’s what’s great about life— the reckless things, and betting whatever you have on the line, for a taste of something thrilling. Miles knew how to pull on your strings, and the idea of being understood was still new to you. Still, whenever you do find yourself in the comfort of Miles Morales, you can’t help but ask yourself:

Who will we be to each other?

How will we change each other’s lives after this?

You couldn’t quite tell if it was your gut warning you, or your anxiety just being a little shit, but you knew the time to hear the answers was drawing near. You had no idea whether the possibility mortified you or not.

One thing for certain though, was that you knew you wanted him, and you were willing to take the risk to see him over and over again.

Miles took a step closer, his height towering over you like a tree. With a single finger, he maneuvers your flashlight away from his face with a light push.

"Get that shit away from my face."

“Awe, but I wanna see that pretty face of yours.”

“Stop.”

Cat and mouse was your usual dynamic. Though you couldn’t quite pinpoint who the cat was.

He clicks his tongue, moving away from you to head over somewhere else. A few seconds later, the power suddenly lights up and brings the subway back to life. Miles stood by the power switch, staring right at you as if to examine your reaction.

You straightened your lips and raised your brows.

"Well, you should've done that sooner."

He lazily shrugged his shoulders, approaching you once more yet with more meticulous steps. "Wanted to scare ya." He cooly confessed, earning nothing but another chuckle.

"If you wanted to scare me, don’t look so pretty."

Said pretty boy furrowed his brows, making you grin wider.

"Ay, díos. You're..." For a short moment, he thinks of how to complete the sentence.

You hum. "I'm what?"

".. so fucking unbearable."

"Awe, I missed you too." You smiled in a sickly sweet way while placing a hand over your heart. That certain sort of thrill began thumping inside you again, an unfamiliar excitement that got you staring right at him mindlessly with that stupid look on your pretty face. As Miles replied with silence, you shrugged and pulled the mod up your tinted lips— blowing the smoke away from his face. Only then, you gestured it towards him.

"Want a hit?"

"Nah." He dryly replies. "That's your first step to a rehab, y'know."

A low laugh exits your lips, taking another hit while slowly walking around. "With how fucked up I am, I'm bound to end up in either jail, a rehab, or a mental institution— so," You snap your fingers. "I'm just gonna enter all three of them."

Miles looks at you, horrified.

"M’just kidding. Don't you think I look hot while doing it, though?"

He peels the horrified stare away from you, instead choosing to kneel before your backpack, unzipping the damn thing as though it were his.

"What'chu got?" He asks, a certain twang in his voice that lightened you up. You head over in less than a second, grinning stupidly like a little kid in search of favor. You pull the plastic bag out of your backpack, waving it over his face.

"Only the best for you." You wink. "I just kindly borrowed these from my school's art club."

Receiving the bag from your grasps, Miles pulls out the newly bought spray paints. He furrows his brows at the sight of the bold fifteens printed on the bottom of each bottle, a tag left as if to brag. "Kindly borrowed, huh?" He skims over the bottle, evidently impressed. "Fifteen dollars per bottle? That’s a whole heist right there.”

“I literally just snatched it off the cabinet.”

“You must go to some rich kid’s school or sum. You even look the part.”

He gestures over your well-kept appearance. Your clean boots, pressed jeans, freshly done nails, and fragrant hoodie.

And yet you continued to look at him like he was the crazy one.

"... Miles, it’s called neatness. A basic trait." You stand up, stretching your arms above your head, the ache in your bones subtly easing. "If I did have the money, my art would be in an exhibition, not in an abandoned subway."

He pursed his lips, somewhat convinced. "Touché."

As he unpacks the paints, you stay beside him, watching as he goes through the colors and lines them up in order. You shove your hands down the pockets of your hoodie, humming.

"So what'll you be drawing tonight?"

"I ain’t really sure yet… The Subway logo, maybe." He shrugs, an exhausted groan rolling off his tongue as he stands up. "… I ain't got shit. I'm drained."

"Then why'd you come here?"

"Felt bad for ya."

You smirk. "So you did miss me."

He takes a step back, turning his head the other way. "I sure do find your delusional ass amusing." He mumbled, trying to hide the anxiety gnawing at his throat. You hardly notice it, as you were too busy staring at the empty wall, but Miles was uneasy. Uneasy in a way that he was desperate to hide it.

"At least I’ve got an ass." You airily snap back, silence following like an awkward stench. "Did you bring your sketchbook with you, by the way?"

He then proceeds to go through his jacket, eyes widening from the realization. "Ah, shit. I did... Not."

"Awe." You blandly answered, pulling out your own from the pocket of your bag. It was small, convenient, almost like a notepad. "Well, I've got mine here." You toss it over, which he successfully catches. "They're not exactly as good as yours, but you can skim through the pages to find some inspiration."

The pages spin from the flip of his fingers. Tens of concept art, a few unfinished sketches, and some dabbling in watercolor appeared before him in a flash. As he goes through the pages, you take the moment to have a momentary smoke, straying not so far away just so he wouldn't inhale any of it. The nicotine eased you as it normally did, though now that you were looking at this pretty boy before you, you couldn't help but ponder about quitting. Just for him. Just for the sake of him.

Though the feeling the nicotine often brought you was addicting, his presence hit you harder than any other drug, affecting your system in a way that made your stomach whirl. He was like your favorite cup of coffee— the strongest coffee to ever linger in your presence. Strong enough to appear on a drug test.

It was damning.

Dangerous even.

As the page flips again, Miles freezes at the sight. You take the gadget away from your lips, approaching him immediately as he huffs.

"... Huh."

Bursting in neons of magenta and violet was the sketch you made of a certain vigilante.

"Oh, don’t mind that." You mumble. "That's just some random sketch."

He brings the paper closer to his sights, marveling at your talent. The markers and the ink, mirroring the image of a cat on the run. His pretty lips part, mouth hanging agape as he asks. "You know this guy?"

A hero of the streets, some sort of final pillar carrying the weight of New York's safety on his broad shoulders.

"Well, I've seen him— Prowler, from the news. I thought he looked pretty cool."

Prowler, a name all too familiar to you. How could you not know he was? A man hiding behind an iron mask, a digital purple hologram over the metals, making his silhouette mirror a panther’s. The man was all your father recently growled about, the memory of the heavy morning still engraved into your mind. You can almost sketch it out— The stench of his tobacco, the shrill of his angered voice, and the image of your poor housekeeper silently brushing some broken shards into the dustpan. You remember sitting by the dining table, solemnly choking on your breakfast as you forcibly shoved it down your throat.

Eyes downcast and hands shaking.

"You think he's cool?" Miles' voice tears you apart from the memory. He sounded almost elated, like a child in search of praise.

"Yeah, I'd always wanted to be a vigilante, fuck—" The vape rolls off your tongue unconsciously. "Like, my life is so damn boring, but at the same time, I've got too many responsibilities to handle so I can't do the things I like. But hey, that's life, I guess."

"If you've got too many responsibilities, then what the hell are you doing here? It's like midnight r'now, damn."

"I kinda told my aunt I had practice for band."

"You're in a band?"

"…. No." You deadpan. "That's the reason why I'm here, man."

He snapped the sketchbook shut, sighing as he plucked out the red and purple spray paints from the line. "God, you'd be one hell of a headache if I ever had a kid like you."

"Woah, slow down, sweetie, you're already talking about kids and you haven't even taken me out to dinner yet." You tease, teeth nibbling onto your lower lip as you watch him crumble. He straightens his lips, forcefully holding back a smile.

"… Shut that mouth for me, would ya?" He shot back. "Just shut up."

"Oo, make me."

He pops the lid off the red paint, the sound of a nickel ball being shaken up in a metal can soon following. Without even an ounce of hesitation, he curtly sprays the paint over your sleeve, earning a gasp from you. You quickly snatch the neon pink can and start spraying back, the chemical smell wafting over your nostrils as the sound of your giggles echoed down the halls. A minute later and the both of you began drawing your new piece while being drenched in paint.

"Hey, pretty boy.”

Miles instinctively turns to look at you, as though he prided himself in the nickname.

"I need to do the top part, can you boost me?" You ask, voice muffled from the towel pulled over your nose.

Maybe it was the exhaustion, but he agreed without making a sound.

He kneels, tapping on his thigh, gesturing you to take your step. Taking off your shoes, you cautiously climb over, feeling his hands brush against your calves, almost as if he was readying his stance to catch you just in case you fall. Initially, the pose seemed to be serving you well, but when your ankles started shivering, your hand latched onto his head, gripping gently in panic. Miles, who was, of course, caught off guard, began shaking. You finally took a step down.

"Fuck." You whispered. "Can you do it?"

"Hol' on."

"I think you just need to like, tiptoe a bit and—"

"Be patient."

And you did just that.

He stretches out his toes in an attempt to reach for the top, but he fails miserably. Miles then turned to you, bearing the pout of a frustrated child.

"... Ya already know what to do, right?"

"Mm, yeah."

An irrational thought crosses his mind, and it battles against his rationality like a civil war within the confines of his head. A second later, his lone finger signals you to come closer. You do so, and he looks up at the unfinished crown.

"I'm gonna carry you, a'ight?"

"What?" You blurt out. "Y-You don't have to—"

"Just balance yourself." He skips past your rant. "And you better do it well."

Before you could even intervene, he's down and offering you his shoulder. Hesitantly, you position yourself. Looking over at you, Miles skims over your face in search of approval. When your hand shakily makes its way over his other arm, Miles cautiously wraps his palm over the side of your knee, hoisting you up like a trophy he’d just won.

"You okay?" He asks.

"Y-yeah. Just— yeah." You stumble over your words, raising your hand over to start painting.

You could feel it tingling in your bones. Skin deep, rotting within the confines of your flesh, insecurity at its highest peak. And it shut you up. Miraculously, as Miles would say it. Your weight, your body, your own figure frightened you. It would be a lie for Miles to claim that he hasn’t noticed. But he stood tall, hardly showing an ounce of any struggle— which comforted somehow.

He was pretty strong, stronger than you first thought.

As you painted, Miles stood there in silence. Trying his best to focus on his breathing.

But the softness of your palm atop his shoulder, and the growing warmth of his own over your waist. Miles desperately tried to ignore growing warmth burning his cheeks. He resisted the urge to dig into the softness of your waist, and yet it remained like a taunt— allowing only his nails to grip over your shirt, the thin barrier over your skin. It seemed almost vulgar, how his hand was beneath your hoodie, gripping as though you were his favorite plush. How his wrist was pressed against the curve of your hip. Then and there, within the span of five minutes, the silhouette of your body was forever engraved into his senses, his mind, and his touch.

But no one spoke of it.

"... You done?" He groaned.

"In a bit, hol' on."

You thought he'd start complaining about your weight, but he didn't.

You were somewhat relieved, but at the same time, it flustered you.

And when the little scene ended, you and Miles stood there, backs pressed against the wall as you stared at your new masterpiece. You looked over the chemical stains on your sleeves, glancing at him. "This jacket's pretty expensive, y'know. It cost me like fifteen grand."

His face twisted in disgust. "You'd buy a jacket like that? In this economy?”

"It's a capitalist world we live in."

"No shit."

The two of you share a small laugh, evidently exhausted from the whole art process. It wasn't all that much, but it was based on one of your many doodles during class. The cursive that spelled out Stay Out was painted in an intimidating shade of red, its borders tainted in white and black— a crown of thorns resting above the text. It seemed like a warning, an open threat. Crafted by frustration, but upon its finish, you were eased.

"Next time, we should do something that says 'Eat the rich' or 'Vive la revolución.'" Miles suddenly suggested, jazzing his fingers comedically. You click your tongue. "We might get shot, man.”

“With all that smoking you do, you’ll wither away before the bullet even manages to get you.”

You raised your brows. “Okay, and?”

Miles scoffs at your ridiculous reply, but for a moment he thinks about it— some sort of plan in his mind. Sooner or later, he soon gently raises his palm without a word. You stare at his hand confusingly, “What?” you then asked of him. The boy then gestured over his lips with his fingers shaped like a v, imitating the act of smoking. “Lemme try, at least once.”

“… You’re kidding.”

“I’m being for real, ma, just let me try it once.”

You think about rejecting his request, but the curiosity had you fishing out your e-cigarette in less than a second.

“Okay, but if you die, I’m not paying for your damn ambulance bill.”

“Just uber me to the damn hospital.”

Miles then looks at it, glaring holes into the pen-shaped gadget as though he were waiting for it to speak. After considerably taking his time, he plucks it out your palm and starts a slow sip, the collision of the nicotine and the flavor flooding his tongue as the smoke enters his system. When the heat creeps in, however, he bursts out into a coughing fit.

You snatch the gadget away from his grasp as he groans.

“Careful.”

"What the fUCK—, ain't that s'pposed to calm you down?—" He slams his hand against the center of chest in an attempt to ease his lungs.

"… Did you fucking swallow the smoke or what?" You sigh while taking a sip, the smoke smoothly exiting your lips.

"... You know what? You are definitely gonna die early."

"Oh, darling, don't threaten me with a good time."

“Pu—” He coughs a few more times. “Puta, I almost died there.”

You take your palm and began rubbing small circles behind his back. “You shouldn’t do the shit I do, even if I look hot doing it.”

“Ain’t nobody told you that.”

“… Why’d you wanna smoke anyway?”

“I just wanted to know why you keep doing that.” He groans, staring at the pen in your fingers. “I mean— it’s unhealthy as fuck, hardly tastes good, and it’ll kill you the ugliest way possible. So why do it?”

You lower the pen as though your long-lost conscience re-entered your body.. “… I don’t know really.” You mumbled half-heartedly. “I think it’s what calms me down the most…? I don’t know.”

“… You don’t have, like, normal hobbies?”

“The fuck— of course, I do.” You swiftly shot back. “I just don’t have the time to do them.”

“Then what do you do at home?”

You blink.

“What— What do I do at home?” You repeat, thinking of it to yourself. “That’s a good question, what do I do at home?… I do chores, I study a lot. I-I take care the house.” Take care of the house? Yeah, shit I ain’t Mirabel Madrigal. As your mind short circuits, from a mile away, you could already guess his reply.

“I do that too, dumbass.”

You click your tongue. “.. It’s complicated. The time I usually have for myself is when I’m outside, that’s why I lied that I took up band for extra credit.”

You smoothed out the details of your life, picking out a few small details that were definitely not all that important.

"Is that why you're here?"

"Yeah.”

The boy curved his lips into a slight frown.

“I mean,” You shift closer, sighing as you palm the back your neck. “Sometimes, places like these are better than my own home."

"Places like an abandoned subway?"

“You make it sound like I’m homeless.”

“That’s what it sounds to me.”

"... It’s just.." You run your fingers through your hair, eyes glued onto the ceiling above. "I feel more at home in an abandoned subway more than my own house.”

Miles hummed. "… I'd always thought home would be more of a person," He tilts his head. "Rather than a place."

The silence was deafening, but this time, nothing was urging you to fix it— because there was nothing in need of fixing. You were comfortable, weirdly enough, as you never really found comfort in utter silence.

“It’d be nice to be.. Someone’s home.” You couldn’t help but utter those cheesy words. “I think I’d make a great home.”

Miles fiddled with the hem of his hoodie, holding back the words that echoed in his mind.

Yeah, you’re doing great.

Instead, what slips out of his mouth was: “How the fuck are you gon’ be a home? You’re a whole haunted house.”

“Oh, fuck you.” You roll your eyes. “If I’m a haunted house, you’re a rental where all the drive-by shootings happen.”

“Okay, what the fuck.”

“When you go low, I go LOWER.”

In the end, the two of you simply bursted into laughter, sinking down to the floor to take a seat. Another hour passed and so did a hundred topics. They flew by like the autumn leaves, leaving the both of you unconsciously huddling close for warmth beneath the large scarf you brought. Two birds of one feather, one nest. Easy conversations, light laughs, and genuine interest.

Even when the conversation grew darker, the two of you infinitely felt cosy enough to confide in one another. Especially when Miles spoke about his father.

You listened well, yet there was this ball stuck in your throat that you couldn’t quite swallow. A heaviness in your heart, a stiff feeling in your throat. However, your ears were welcoming. His tone was grieving, but his words resonated with acceptance.

"He used to drive me every morning to school... We'd fight over the pettiest things, and god, I hated it, but looking back, it was better then." He buried half his head into his arms. "I'd rather have him annoying me than have him not annoying me at all."

The words hit you like a truck, leaving you defenseless. In a moment, your walls crumble as these words crawl out your mouth. "... Sometimes, when we're with someone, you can't help but wish they'd leave you alone, but when they're gone, only then you'll realize how much you can't live without them."

Though your words were meant for Miles, you knew damn well that they were also for you.

"... There's some truth to that, I guess."

"Does that mean that you'd miss me when I'm gone?" You tease.

Your gentle gazes collide, and eventually, you see that Miles had softened entirely.

"... Maybe."

“.. Maybe?” You repeat his reply. “.. Should I annoy you more then?”

“You’re annoying enough as you are.” He huffs, pulling his knees to his chest. “I hate you so much.”

“Sure you do.”

You lean against his shoulder. “Hate me all you want. I’ll pretend to believe you.”

A light chuckle emits from his lips, but as it fades, he turns his head, burying his nose in the scent of your hair. You were fragrant, and it was addicting. Slowly, he shuts his eyes and basks in your scent.

Then he called out your name softly.

You hum, looking up at him— the inches between you closing in, cold breaths like white smoke intertwining. His cold fingers dance atop your own.

“What?” You whisper.

His lids were heavy, gaze switching between the pool of your eyes and the plush of your lips.

Then and there, you knew.

But something screamed at you in the back of your mind.

We can’t.

Ring. Ring. Ring.

And you pulled away before your lips could even meet.

"Shit." You cuss, clumsily pulling the phone out of your pockets. Your hands frantically scramble to answer the call, the look of Miles' defeated stare stinging the corner of your eye. "Hello?" You began, hearing the chauffeur's voice ask back. "Ma'am, where are you?"

Your fingers press the side of your phone, lowering the volume.

“We're currently clearing up the room right now. Can you please wait about thirty more minutes? Thanks."

As the call ends, you frantically head off to start cleaning up. Trying to evade whatever had just happened— at least, you try to. It invaded your mind and heart, left you breathless and unsteady.

You and Miles began picking up the bottles, shoving it inside the plastic. You then flung the strap of your backpack onto your shoulder, holding the plastic out to him. "You can have it."

Confusion was scribbled all over his face.

"Didn't you steal that from your school's art club?”

You look up, thinking about it for a moment before shrugging. "It’s their problem, not ours." You grin.

Miles shakes his head in feigned disapproval. "Tsk tsk tsk, eres una chica tan mala."

"Don't start, the only Spanish I know's from Dora."

"Que?"

"Queso."

You shove the plastic into his arms. "No hablo Español, lo siento." Was all you managed to form out of the past few weeks you started learning Spanish. You threw a hand in the air, waving him a fast farewell while pivoting your heel to leave.

“Can’t I walk you home?” A suggestion, and not a demand for the first time, Miles insists “It’s dark as fuck outside, and you might get.. Y’know.”

For a moment, you pause to laugh.

“Are you worried about me?”

He nods. “I am.”

“I— wait, what?”

He took a step further. “I am worried about you. It’s ten o’clock. I think I should take you home.”

Miles looked at you in a way you’ve never seen before. It was unfamiliar, or maybe you just weren’t good at paying attention, yet now that it was materializing before you— It overwhelmed you.

It was breaking you open.

You bite your lower lip, shoving your hands in your pockets.

“… I-I don’t know, I don’t think my dad would like that very much.”

“And I’m sure your dad wouldn’t like the idea of his lil’ girl getting hurt.”

There he goes again, towering over you, his cocky eyes never once leaving your face. Lil’ girl my ass, you can’t help but think. I’m tall, asshole. You just so happened to be taller.

“I’ll walk you home.” He reiterates. Now it’s an announcement, not a proposal. “You can tell me to leave when we’re near. I just need to make sure you’re okay.”

“… Miles,” The way his name rolls off your tongue had him weak, and you couldn’t even tell. “.. Okay, fine— But, only up until the Gristedes down the block. Until then, you go home, alright?”

Your voice was too soft, too mellow. It made his breath hitch, made his neck tense in this already cold weather.

“Aight.”

488 notes · View notes

nolita-fairytale · 10 months

Text

burn your life down | chef luca x fem!reader | chapter two

summary: you decided to meet luca, taking him up on his offer to return the favor, and it gives the both of you the opportunity to get to know each other better.

warnings: fluff, eventual smut, eventual angst not use of y/n, second person pov, swearing, danish inaccuracies, very little connection to the world of the bear.

word count: 2777

a/n: for an america's indepedence day, have a hot brit and a love story that takes place in denmark lmao. okay so now we're all caught up with what i wrote for the headcanon and boy do i have some surprises in store for you next. thank you so much for all of the reactions to chapter one and the headcanon. this story has weaseled its way into my heart and has taken over my brain. i'm writing it for me but it's nice to hear others are enjoying it too. anyways, let me know if you'd like to be added or removed from the taglist!

chapter one | masterlist | chapter three

“You have to go!” Jesper insists with the kind of conviction of a damn good lawyer.

“I don’t have to anything,” you reply, making sure to emphasize the word ‘have.’

“No, you have to go,” Mathilde chimes in, a little softer, a little kinder than her brother’s earlier encouragement.

After your post-shift meeting, everyone had gone home, save for the three of you – the Mikkelson twins cornering you about Luca’s thank-you-card proposition.

“Well, since you both keep harping on it, why don’t you come with me?” you suggest, in an attempt to shift the focus off of you.

Your eyes scan their faces, trying to get a read on the both of them as Jesper and Mathilde exchange a pointed look, having the kind of non-verbal exchange that only comes from having shared every moment of their lives together.

“What?” you ask, looking back and forth from Mathilde to Jesper again.

“It wasn’t addressed to us,” Mathilde points out with a shrug, a sly look on her face. “It was only addressed to you.”

“Looks like someone has a crush,” Jesper adds with a smirk.

“He doesn’t have a crush!” you protest without hesitation, your heart seizing for a moment.

“A talent crush,” Mathilde reasons, knowing that anything more than a talent-crush would talk you out of going entirely.

“Would it be the worst thing in the world if he did?” Jesper continues, much to both you and Mathilde’s chagrin. “I mean, when was the last time you got-, ow!”

Sharply cut off by an elbow to the rib, Jesper glares at his sister before returning his attention to you.

“I’m just saying! He’s sexy. He’s a chef at one of the best restaurants in the world. You could do worse for yourself,” Jesper clarifies, earning another glare from his sister.

He has a point, but you ignore it, because you’re not really sure if you’re ready to go there just yet. You think it over, and after giving it another moment, you open your mouth to speak again.

“Alright, I’ll go,” you sigh in resignation, earning a few celebratory comments and gasps from the twins. “Are you both happy now?”

And that’s how – after at least an hour of stressing out about what to wear to a place like this – you find yourself standing in front of a closed restaurant on a day where almost everything is closed in Denmark. You’d settled on a pair of wide leg denim pants, a square toed boot appropriate for navigating the Copenhagen cobblestone, and a white and black striped sweater, slightly tucked into the front of your jeans that hangs loosely from your frame.

Classic. Put-together enough for a two-starred Michelin restaurant on closed day. Certainly not a date kind of outfit.

Luca proves once again to be punctual as ever as he greets you at the front door, right on time. He wears a blue t-shirt that seems to emphasize his already intense blue eyes with a navy-colored apron layered over top of it.

“You came,” are the first words he says to you, a wide smile spreading across his lips as soon as he sees you.

“Yeah I uh-, thank you. For inviting me,” you stammer, nervously searching for the right words.

“Thank you for coming. Well, c’mon then!” he encourages, nodding towards the inside as he holds the door open for you.

“Did you find the place alright?” Luca asks you, as you follow him.

He leads you into the vaulted basement – the space that makes up the Danish-style, fine dining restaurant that’s been a leader in innovation. You follow Luca through the closed dining room, back into the kitchen, and then into the pastry room as you answer his question, mentioning that it wasn’t too long of a walk and that you found the place just fine.

As soon as you see what he’s been working on, it renders you near-speechless. You can see that he’s been hard at work – on his day off, no less – almost as if he knew you would come.

“Would you like to have a seat?” he offers, gesturing towards the pastry bench.

“Uh.. yeah. That’d be great. I-, um… thank you… again, for inviting me,” you answer, watching as he brings a stool over to it, setting up a little space for you.

“Oh, it’s my pleasure. It’s really the least I can do. Think after this we’re uh… what 5 to 1?” he replies casually, in reference to the fact that he’ll only have fed you once in comparison to the amount of times he’s come to the restaurant.

You chuckle, returning with a playful, “Well, I don’t think anyone’s keeping score.”

He sends a crooked smile your way, one that you know you’ll be thinking about for the rest of the week, before exchanging a laugh with you.

“Just think of it as a thank you. For the great meals. For the hospitality,” he continues, as you watch him plate his gelee-focused dish. First the chocolate, then yellow, white, and green. A carefully tweezed wafer on top.

“This is a shiso gelee with a chocolate mint ganache, finished with a thin slice of marzipan, and a caramel cracker. It’s from our current menu,” Luca introduces, walking you through the dish like you walked him through your crispy rice and trumpet mushroom dish.

He pushes the plate-that-looks-more-like-a-pedestal towards you for you to try, his eyes meeting yours. Luca studies you carefully as you pick up the fork he’s set out for you, cutting through the gelee for your first bite. He watches as you scoop up a little of the ganache, making sure to get a bit of the cracker as well.

You’re creating a perfect bite – one with a little bit of everything – just like he’d done with the first dish of yours he had a month or so ago.

As you raise the fork to your lips, taking your first bite, the vibrant flavors hit your tongue with surprise and brilliance that you weren’t expecting. It’s somehow new, innovative, yet nostalgic all at once.

“Oh my god,” you say with a sigh of pure bliss. You savor each and every flavor, taking your time with your first bite before continuing with: “It’s almost like-.”

“A minty snickers bar?” he offers up with a quirk of an eyebrow.

“That’s exactly it!” you cry out with joy.

He smiles proudly, “Yeah, it’s a nice dish.”

“So how long have you been doing this? Cooking…? Or have you done Pastry the whole time?” you ask, digging into the rest of the gelee.

“About fourteen years… give or take. Started when I was a kid… just washing dishes… was a bit of a rebel…. The kitchen gave me a place to land,” he shares with an ease and charm that makes you feel like you could tell him all of your secrets.

“Yeah, no I-, I get that,” you agree, enjoying your second bite of Luca’s shiso dish.

“Gave my mum a little peace of mind. That’s for sure. Don’t think I was an easy kid to raise,” he continues as you listen.

“Didn’t start pastry till about three years ago or so. Went mostly the fine dining route… worked my way up to sous position at a really great place, but wasn’t interested in moving up the ranks in that regard. Decided it was time to try something different.”

You nod with respect for his decision for change.

“Where’d you grow up?” you ask curiously, watching him wipe down the pastry bench with a clean towel as he begins to prepare for a second dish.

“London,” he answers.

“Oh! I uh, lived there for a few years, actually,” you say, sharing a familiar smile with him.

“What about you? Where’d you grow up? And how long have you been cooking for?” he asks, shifting the focus of the conversation to you.

“Boston,” you reply.

He hums in response, “I’ve never been. What was that like?”

“Boston is great. Good weather, great food, interesting people. ‘S actually where I learned how to cook. My mom’s a single parent so… I spent a lot of time at our neighbor’s house… and their restaurant. They still own this Italian restaurant that’s like… been in the family for a hundred or so years and I practically grew up there,” you explain, sharing parts of yourself – of your story – in return.

“Oh yeah?” he asks, an amused look on his face.

“Yeah, we hung out there a lot when we were kids – me and my best friend. Then when I was old enough to work, I marched in one day after school and pitched myself for a job, demanding that I cook and that I’d accept nothing less” you reminisce trying your best to recreate the bold confidence of your fifteen year old self.

Luca chuckles in response, “That’s incredible,”

“I was a rather precocious child,” you add, laughing with a fondness for that previous version of you.

He smiles, “Yeah, I know the feeling well.”

Luca clears his throat, pulling out a clean bowl and beginning to plate something new. He explains that this one is a savory dish, starting with a fermented sourdough cracker as he walks you through the flavor profiles of each component, mentioning that it’s got to be one of his favorites on the menu so far.

“I’m up for sharing if you are,” you suggest, in response to his last comment.

“Yeah?”

“Yeah.”

You watch as Luca picks up another fork, digging into the dish with you. There’s an intimacy that comes from sharing a meal with someone – eating off the same plate, enjoying the same sensory experience, quite literally breaking bread – that makes Luca feel less and less like a stranger to you with each bite. You still can’t believe that he’s done this for you – that you’re here – and while you’re not sure why, you lean into a softness, allowing yourself to enjoy it while it’s happening.

“Did you go to culinary school?” you ask him, over your last few shared bites.

“No, what about you?” he replies quickly.

“No, I actually majored in business,” you answer, earning a hum from him.

“Huh…” he sounds, with a raise of both eyebrows in surprise.

“I know…” you groan, with a playful eye roll more so directed at yourself. “My first career was in finance… account management. Then I did the whole investment thing for a while… it was uh… really sexy stuff, I know.”

“You don’t strike me as someone who would’ve been happy doing something like that,” Luca observes, only surprising you a little that he’d be able to pick up on something like that so quickly.

“Oh no. I wasn’t. I was miserable,” you echo in agreement. You take a breath, and a beat, before explaining. “It was more of… a wish fulfillment thing, I think. For my mom. I mean, it wasn’t my dream, by any means. But having stability was important to me, to my mom…. To my partner at the time.”

“And now?”

You wait a beat before answering.

“And now… I’m just… figuring it out as I go.”

Your eyes flicker over the ‘every second counts’ sign that hangs on the wall while Luca busses the table once again, sharing that he’s got one more dish he’d like for you to try. You settle into a quiet rhythm as you sit back and allow him to provide an experience unlike any other you’ve had. You watch him carefully as he moves around the kitchen prepping for his last dish, taking in each and every tattoo visible on his arms.

“Every second counts,” you speak out loud, returning your attention to the sign.

“Yeah,” he nods, turning his attention to where you’re looking. “It’s uh-, something an old head chef of mine used to say. Really stuck with me.”

You nod in agreement as he pulls out a final dessert plate.

“‘S actually what brought me to you,” he continues, in reference to the sign. “An old friend of mine called me for a favor. He’s opening a new restaurant and wanted their patissier to come stage here for a bit.”

Luca begins plating his final dish using a few pastry rings, a clean pair of tweezers, and berries left macerating in a deli container with a laser focus that you’d expect from a pastry chef at a two-starred Michelin restaurant.

“We got into… this whole conversation about inspiration. How to find it. Where to find it. I told him he’s gotta be open… to everything. To things out there. That that’s how you succeed in this industry – how you set yourself apart,” Luca adds, impressing you with his precision of plating while sharing something so personal.

“It reminded me that… it’s been a while since I’ve opened myself up to… well… anything outside of this place.”

“No, yeah, I totally get it. It’s easy to get lost in it – it being the four walls of your restaurant. Running a restaurant is relentless. One minute you put your head down and the next…” you empathize with him.

“It’s three weeks later.”

“Yeah.”

“Which leads me to why I asked you here,” Luca segways, as he finishes his final dish. “I ran into a little bit of writers’ block – or rather, chef’s block, if you will – working on our Summer menu.”

He presents the dish towards you, earning a gasp from you as you take in the stunning creation.

“Knew I needed to get out of here for a beat. Get out of my head. Get some new perspectives.”

“Is this for your new menu?” you ask, your eyes devouring the cake-based dish first.

“Maybe… just something I’ve been working on – something that’s been floating around in my head a while,” he shrugs, watching you carefully as he tries to search your face for any kind of reaction.

You dig your fork into the spongey, tea-soaked, circular layered cake, raising it to your lips and immediately finding pure joy as you taste it.

Yuzu. Earl Grey. The cake is almost like a lady finger – tiramisu-like in the way that it eats – filled with a yuzu curd in between each layer of cake, then finished with what you can only assume is a sort of black sesame dust that he’s sifted over top of the dish.

“Woah,” is all that comes out of your mouth.

“Yeah?” Luca questions, unable to hide the smile that spreads across his lips.

“Yeah uh… Why does this feel so familiar? It’s like… you’re reading my mind with this one,” you ask, your eyes wide savor each note.

“Well, it should. Feel familiar, that is. It’s inspired by you,” Luca explains, treading carefully around the last few words.

“What do you-?” you begin to ask, before the words leave you.

You half expect him to tell you he’s joking, and you can’t tell whether or not it’s a blush running across his high cheekbones that you spot, as he turns his attention elsewhere. He begins moving around the kitchen, eager to begin cleaning up after himself to recover from the sheer vulnerability he feels from sharing this with you.

Was this why he’d invited you here?

“Luca,” you say, your words stopping him as he turns back to you.

“What’s up?” he asks, so casually, as if he hadn’t just called you his muse.

"All of this... you did all of this for me…. Why?" you muster up the courage to ask, the words falling out of your mouth with a weight you don’t expect.

He takes a beat, afraid of coming on too strong, considering you’ve only just met, yet wanting nothing more than to tell you the truth.

Luca sighs, choosing the latter, before laying it all out on the table.

"Your food is inspired and I don’t think I’ve had something this inspired in a long time,” he explains before pausing. “Your passion for Italian cuisine… weaving in the bits and pieces of yourself and approaching it from different culinary perspectives? You inspired me.”

He takes another beat.

“And as chefs, this is what we do. We feed each other."

You’re speechless, but you can feel yourself nodding in agreement as you mumble out the most reverent ‘thank you’ that you can muster. You can feel it – that this is the beginning of, well, you're not quite sure what – but whatever it is, you're glad he walked into your restaurant however many weeks ago.

“Luca?”

“Yeah?”

“Thank you for sharing this with me.”

He nods, one corner of his mouth turning up into a smile.

“Cheers.”

#chef luca #will poulter #luca the bear #the bear season 2 #the bear headcanon #luca x reader #the bear hulu #the bear fx #the bear fanfiction #chef luca x reader #pastry chef luca #burn your life down

794 notes · View notes

shiftingwithmars · 3 months

Text

Favorite fangirl-Mattheo Riddle one shot

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A/N:Thought this was cute<3. Written in both Mattheo and the readers POV. (I might make this into a series, idk yet…)

Summary:When his band’s tour finally ends, Mattheo is overjoyed to finally go back home and see his favorite fangirl.

Warnings:Band Au, Modern Au, Swearing, fluff, wholesome and cute, a few uses of Y/n, She/Her pronouns used for reader, established relationship, lmk what I missed

Song listened to while writing:Cupids Chokehold/Breakfast in America-Gym Class Heroes

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The Emeralds finished their show, a smile plastered on their faces as they headed off stage. “Okay, now that was probably our best show yet!” Theo said with a laugh as he plopped down on the sofa. “I know right! All the roses thrown up on stage! Bloody hell, I swear they were all over me.” Enzo said with a teasing laugh. “Sorry Enzo, they were all for me. I can’t help it, girls just love me!” Pansy giggled, earning her a playful shove from Theo.

“Nah, I think they were all for Mattheo.” Theo said with a small smirk. “I swear, most of the girls were focused on him.” Theo playfully nudged Mattheo, and he just rolled his eyes. “They can like me all they want, but I’ve already got a favorite fangirl.” Mattheo said with a small smile. “Ooh, someone thinking about her again?” Pansy said teasingly. Mattheo was about to reply, but Enzo interrupted. “Of course he is. It’s all he ever talks about anymore.” Enzo shot Mattheo a teasing glance, and Mattheo just shrugged the taunt off. “Well, I’m exhausted. Peace out losers.” Mattheo said with a yawn, getting up and heading towards his room.

Mattheo let out a sigh as he sat at his desk, checking his phone for what must’ve been the 15th time in 30 minutes. No calls, no texts, nothing. Mattheo stared at his phone, a small smile forming on his face as he stared at his Lockscreen. It was a picture of you wearing his band jacket, which was probably around two sizes too big on you. He could stare at that picture for hours. He remembered it like it was yesterday.

You two were at one of Theodore’s after-tour parties, drinks being passed around and music blasting from speakers. You were cuddled up in Mattheo’s lap on the couch, his arms wrapped tightly around you.

Eventually you got up to get a drink, placing a soft kiss on Mattheo’s head before walking off. When you came back you couldn’t find Mattheo anywhere, and for a second you worried that he had left without you. That was until Theodore informed you he was on the roof. Of course he had gone there, of all places, to get away from the crowd. You climbed up the roof, sitting beside Mattheo with a smile on your face. You shivered under the cold, and Mattheo wasted no time in wrapping his Emeralds jacket around you. “It looks good on you. You almost look like a part of the band.” Mattheo said with a smile. You rolled your eyes, smiling as you curled up on his lap.

Mattheo smiled at the memory, glancing down at that very jacket which he was wearing right now. He swore it still smelled like you. “Dude, you coming or not?” Theodore questioned as he stuck his head in Mattheo’s room, suitcase in hand. “Yeah yeah, I’m coming.” Mattheo replied with a roll of his eyes. He was the first one on the tour bus, extremely excited to finally go home.

His phone dinged, and he glanced down hope. It was you. “I miss you.” Three simple words, but they were enough to make his heart race. “I miss you too. You going to bed yet?” He replied, knowing that it was getting late back home. “Yeah. Goodnight, I love you.” Mattheo smiled as those words appeared on the screen. “I love you too, baby.” He texted back before putting his phone on silent. He might as well get some sleep now.

One tour bus, one flight, and a ride from Theodore brought him to where he was standing now, in front of your door. It was funny, he never thought he’d be so nervous to walk into his own home. He almost considering knocking for a second, but he figured that would be stupid. Plus, you were probably already asleep.

He quietly walked through the door, setting his bags on the floor next to the kitchen island. He smiled as a familiar, furry shape began to rub against his legs. “Hey Zoe.” He said softly, leaning down to give the cat a soft scratch on the head. He pulled out the special package from his bag before heading up to your bedroom.

He gently pushed open the door, quiet as not to wake you. When he saw your sleeping figure, he let out a breath he didn’t even know he had been holding. He set the package down your desk before going over to you. He slowly slipped into bed, letting out a soft sigh as he wrapped his arms around you. He buried his face in your neck, his heart pounding in his chest at the contact.

You slowly stirred, rolling over to face Mattheo. “Matty?” You questioned groggily, squinting as your eyes adjusted to your surroundings. “Sorry love, didn’t mean to wake you up.” Mattheo said softly, placing a gentle kiss on your forehead. “How long have you been here?” You questioned, rubbing the sleep out of your eyes. “Just got here.” He explained softly, smiling as you buried your face in his chest. “I missed you.” You said softly, hugging him tighter. “I know baby. I missed you too.” Mattheo replied, smiling at your still half-asleep state. “I have a surprise for you.” Mattheo said softly as he got up, handing you a package. You opened it gently, careful not to tear the wrapping paper too much.

Inside was a jacket. It was like Mattheo’s band jacket, except smaller. It had some of the same patches, but there were also a bunch of places where patches had yet to be sewn on. The patches were kind of a good luck symbol for the band, and they got one every time they went on tour. You studied the patches, recognizing that they were all from tours you had gone to.

You got up, slowly slipping the jacket on. Perfect fit. Then you noticed a patch that you hadn’t seen before. The letters were very clear, no way to mistake them; Mattheo’s girl. It was small enough to not be embarrassing, but big enough to get the message across. You smiled as you stared at yourself in the mirror, admiring the way it looked on you. You almost felt like a part of the band now.

“You like it?” Mattheo asked softly, smiling as he wrapped his arms around your waist. “Got it made ‘specially for you. Now you don’t have to steal mine.” Mattheo said with a small smile, and you rolled your eyes. “I love it. And for the record, I’m still gonna steal yours.” You said teasingly, smiling as you pressed a kiss to his cheek. Mattheo rested his head on your shoulder, admiring you in the mirror. “A jacket for my favorite fangirl.” Mattheo said with a smile, feeling his heart swell with love. He was yours, and you were his. Just how he liked it.

(Edit:Shh, let’s ignore the mistakes I fixed…)

#Spotify #Mattheo Riddle #mattheo riddle x reader #band au #modern au #alternate universe #my fic

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its-time-to-write · 6 months

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this is 100% self indulgent. no one asked for this except me and I have zero excuse for how it turned out. i have no defense, no witty rebuttal, no nothing. i wrote this because i wanted to, and at the very least i hope this inspires someone to write their borderline-self-insert fic and post it publicly.

this fic is set after season 3. enjoy😂

(oh now might also be a good time to mention how much I love Man City. bc it’s a lot.)

can’t hear my thoughts (i cannot hear my thoughts)

Calling Lake Como beautiful is like saying space is big. It’s true for sure, but it feels like an understatement. It’s June and the weather is absolutely gorgeous, perfect for the wedding you’re attending. It’s for two good friends of yours, and it’s going to be a party full of football royalty. You’re mostly excited to see friends who are WAGs from other teams who you’ve connected with over the past year and a half.

Oh, and you suppose it will be a nice vacation with Jamie, too.

You’re staying at a beautiful hotel that’s been open since 1910, and you swear you’ll never stay somewhere as beautiful again.

“Getting ideas for the house?” Jamie teases, and it sends a thrill down your spine with the way he refers to his house as your collective home.

You grin as he spins you around the Suite Greta. Everything is golden, from the drapes to the pillows to the sun catching on his face.

“No,” you reply, “but maybe for a vacation home?”

Jamie laughs as he catches you up in his arms. “I could see us here in the next off-season. Not sure we’d get out much,” he muses and you wrap your arms around him as tight as they can go.

You’re here for a full week but Isaac’s wedding is only one day. You and Jamie have plans to see everyone who’s in town, as well as have some time to yourself.

“Sasha wants to go out for dinner tonight,” you tell Jamie as he unpacks his suitcase.

“Girls only, or will Jack be there?”

“Let’s see,” you hum as you scan the group chat. “Isabel said she and Erling will be there, so looks like it’s a couple’s thing. That’ll be fun, right?” you ask with just a hint of anxiety. Jamie and Jack are friends, they’ve run in the same circles for years, but you’re not sure how he’s going to feel about being outnumbered two to one, City to Richmond, at dinner.

“As long as Rodri ain’t there, I’m fucking chuffed,” he says as he lays out his suit on the bed.

“Chuffed? Is that a thing you say now?” you ask, flat on your back on the bed.

“Yep,” he replies. “I’m posh now, babe. Sorry you Americans can’t do it as well as we Brits.”

“I have it on good authority that we do it very well,” you smirk. “But I don’t think that’s something you’ll get to experience tonight. I haven’t seen Sash or Isa in ages, so we’ll probably talk for a long time and then I’ll be tired when we get back to the room.”

Jamie groans. “You’re sadistic, woman. The shit you put me through.”

You smile and remind him, “You’re the one who picked me, remember?”

—

Jamie is technically the one who picked you. You had just moved from America to London, got a temp job at a Richmond FC, and the rest is history. You don’t work at Richmond anymore, haven’t for a while, as you’ve been able to start your own thing in between attending matches and events and whatever else Jamie’s invited to. Being Jamie’s girlfriend is a full-time job on its own, and he definitely spoils you beyond what you’re used to. He’s the one who bought your dress for the wedding and it freaked you out just a little bit until you called Sasha (an angel, by the way) who laughed and talked you off the ledge.

“Comes with the territory, babe. They’re just boys with more money than they know what to do with. Jack’d buy me the moon if he could figure out how. Enjoy it. It’s been a while since anyone’s seen Tartt this happy.”

So you do. You had been living together for almost a year now so you’d think that a dress wouldn’t push you over the edge, but there you go. You’re trying to be calmer about it. It’s better ever since you met Sasha and Isabel.

You had been stuck in a room while Jamie talked to his old manager, and they had noticed your deer-in-the-headlights expression. You’re right in the middle of the two, age-wise, and from similar enough backgrounds.

“Here’s my number. Come over to my flat tomorrow for brunch. We’ll get you settled, babes,” Sasha had said. You went and it had been amazing to finally make real friends, even if they were technically on the opposing team.

You’re excited to see them, excited for Isaac to finally get married, and excited to spend a full seven days with Jamie by your side. It’s going to be the best.

—

You enter the venue arm-in-arm with Jamie, practically dancing across the grass. The sun’s shining and there are all sorts of people you know and love. It feels a little surreal to be here.

Earlier, back in the room, you had slipped into your dress carefully to avoid getting makeup stains on the front. The skirt fell just at your knees and puffed out ever so slightly, with thick straps instead of regular sleeves so you could fully enjoy the warm weather.

“Do a spin,” he had said, voice full of glee. You’d acquiesced, twirling around to let the blue tile print billow out before he caught you, kissing your shoulder so as not to ruin your makeup.

Now, you’re holding onto him and trying not to wrinkle his linen suit when you hear someone shout your name.

“Sasha!” you screech, running toward her as best you can with your shoes on the grass. You squeeze each other into a tight hug, uncaring about about the state of her hot pink dress.

“Hey man,” Jack says to Jamie, who grins and shakes his hand. “You’d think they haven’t seen each other in fucking ages.”

“It’s been twelve hours,” you say. “And before that it’s been like two months. Anyway, don’t you two have some football to discuss or something? Or headbands? Or-”

“Really short socks,” Sasha helpfully supplies.

Jamie shakes his head. “Fuck off, Attwood.”

“Fuck you, Tartt,” she replies.

“Oi, you two wouldn’t even be friends if it weren’t for me. You could be a little nicer,” Jamie says.

“Oh is that Hughes?” Jack asks before either Sasha or Jamie can escalate. Their entire friendship is based off sniping one another and neither you nor Jack are particularly in the mood for it today.

Jamie turns to look. “Oh mint, looks like things are starting. You saved us seats?”

“Yeah, with Haaland and Isabel,” Sasha returns, linking her arm through yours. “C’mon, did you get yourself a parasol?”

—

It’s the most beautiful wedding you’ve ever been to. Stella looks stunning in her gown, Isaac stoically sobs his eyes out while Colin surreptitiously hands him a tissue. Even Roy seems to be having a good time, but then again Keeley once told you that he “really fucking loves weddings.” You hadn’t believed her, but his lips are in a straight line instead of a frown so maybe she was right.

There’s a group of City and Richmond players together, and it’s a little strange to see how friendly they are off the pitch. Dani is explaining something with lots of hand gestures to Phil while the rest of the group jokes around.

Sasha sneaked you and Isabel away to get drinks for yourselves and you were about to get away unnoticed when Erling caught Isabel’s arm and asked for a drink too, so now you’re ordering for your boyfriends as well as yourselves.

You don’t really care, there’s a part of you that’s reveling in the sheer joy of being young and hot. Sue you.

“Cosmo, please,” you say while the girls order drinks of their own. Sasha raises an eyebrow so you shrug and say, “Jamie likes what he likes.”

She rolls her eyes and scoffs “Tartt,” but it’s with the affection of an older sister so you elbow her and ask, “What did Jack want?”

She makes a face. “Heineken. He also likes what he fuckin’ likes.”

You wheeze out a laugh as Isabel comes to join you. She smiles as she sips from something lavender colored in a martini glass. She cuts an elegant figure in her yellow, billowy dress. You smooth your dress and open your mouth to say something when a voice calls your name. You look to see your ex walking up, hand-in-hand with his wife. You know, the one he left you for.

“Jake,” you say in surprise. God, you need your brain to form coherent thoughts right now. “What are you doing here?”

He grins, far too wide and goofy to be real. Not like Jamie, you think.

“Oh, you know, Emma’s loosely related to the bride on her dad’s side. She asked for an invite, so here we are. Who are you here for? Bride or groom?”

“Both, actually,” you reply automatically. Jake’s words are grating, not so much in content as they are in tone. He always had a way of saying things condescendingly, like everyone else was a stupid little kid.

“Oh,” he says in what you think is supposed to be surprise, “that’s funny. I didn’t know you knew anyone out here. You’ve been living in England all alone, right?”

Emma just hovers by Jake’s shoulder. She’s not contributing anything to this conversation except a snooty little smirk.

“No,” you say. “I’m not alone. This is Isabel, by the way.” You look around for Sasha, but she’s disappeared. Smart girl.

Isa doesn’t extend her hand. “Nice to meet you,” she says and Jake takes her at her word. He puffs up his chest a little bit as he asks, “Where are you from? You don’t sound British.”

“We’re from Norway,” a voice behind her says. “I’m Erling.”

Sasha has reappeared with Jack, Erling, and Jamie in tow. You mentally congratulate her with a well done, Sash as you feel Jamie’s arm loop around your waist.

He feels like a solid wall against your back, a glimmer in an otherwise garbage moment.

Jake takes stock of the three men who are looking at him with less-than friendly stares. You’re not sure what Sasha told them, but you’re absolutely positive Jamie recognizes Jake. You can practically feel the hairs on his arm bristling.

Jake finishes his assessment and deems it appropriate to talk. “So, how do you all know each other?”

Jamie scoffs and looks away, while Jack stares at Jake like he can’t believe what he’s hearing.

You wonder what it is with your affinity for J-names.

“We’re footballers,” Erling says before anyone can take more offense.

“Premier League footballers,” Jamie adds, as if it means anything to Jake.

Jake’s American, like you, and he’s never been much for sports anyway. He wouldn’t even recognize David Beckham if the man were standing under a poster of himself.

Jake says, “Right. Hey, weren’t you on one of those trashy dating shows?” and Jamie stiffens.

Sasha mutters, “Fuck’s sake,” under her breath as Erling and Isabel take pointed interest in something in the distance.

“No,” Jamie replies shortly. “The fuck were you talking to my girl?”

Jake looks to you in surprise. “Oh! You two are together? That’s… well, that’s… I guess I just didn’t expect her to be whoring around like that. But hey, move to another country and all morals go out the window, right?”

That’s the thing about Jake. He never speaks as if he’s actually trying to be offensive. He just says what’s on his mind. And you’re a little concerned that what’s on his mind is going to land Jamie (and quite possible Jack) in jail. Neither of them are especially known for backing down from a squabble. “Cut from the same cloth,” Pep was rumored to say.

“Fuck off, mate,” Jack interjects. “Just fuck off. Everyone here loves her, and you can’t talk about her like that.”

Your ex reevaluates the situation at hand and decides the best thing to do would be to take Emma’s hand and walk away.

“Strange that his wife does not speak,” Erling remarks.

You grimace. “You could’ve stopped at ‘strange.’ No idea what I ever saw in him.”

Jamie has a crushing grip on your waist so you wiggle a bit to get him to loosen up.

“Prick,” he mutters. “How the fuck did he even get here, anyway? He’s in fucking America.”

“His wife’s loosely related to Stella. They asked for an invite,” Isabel volunteers.

Jamie rolls his eyes. “Oi, if he tries to talk to you again, I’ll grab Roy and we’ll fucking kill him.”

“Yeah, ‘cause McAdoo’s never been above a little violence at a party,” Jack grins.

You return his smile and say, “Thanks, but I’m pretty sure his mother-in-law would kill you.”

Erling huffs out a laugh. “Never a dull moment in the Premier League, is there?”

Isabel grins and loops her arm through his. “I’m tired of all this,” she says. “Let’s go dancing. There’s a band and we don’t have to think about anything other than celebrating, yes?”

“God yes,” says Sasha.

Jamie still looks murderous, but you squeeze his hand once and whisper, “I’m fine, babe. It’s fine.”

He looks like he wants to argue, but he lets you pull him along to the dance floor with the group.

—

There are so many people that you don’t even catch a glimpse of Jake and Emma. You’re not sure what they’re up to, and fairly certain they don’t know anyone else here. You on the other hand, are living your best life as Jamie sings along to “Ain’t No Mountain.” He’s swinging your arms around as he sways in time to the music. You just let him lead you however he wants. The song ends and he presses his lips to your ear so you can hear him over the sheer volume of everyone talking. “D’you want a drink? I can go get you something.”

You nod and mouth my usual, please, so he salutes and begins weaving his way through the crowd. You watch him as long as you can before spinning back around with a smile.

A smile that quickly fades when you realize Emma is right in front of you.

She says, “Cute dress,” and for a moment, you believe she’s being sincere but then she follows it up with, “Did you borrow it from your grandma’s closet? I’ve seen people do that.”

Right, because grandmas are known for wearing dresses like this.

“What? No, Jamie got it for me,” you say.

“Oh cute, is it from Walmart? I think I saw something like it there last week.”

Emma is trying to draw blood. You suppose she’s taking her shot now as opposed to back then because she thinks there’s no one around to call her out. No one who knows her.

You say, “They don’t have Walmart here,” instead of “It’s Dolce & Gabbana,” because the second phrase would make you sound like a prick. There’s a part of you that wants to be a prick, though, wants to channel that part of Jamie that’s ruthless, vicious and cruel, messing with the opposition before he cuts them down.

The first time you saw it, it was hard to believe the Jamie on the pitch was the same Jamie who played with your hair while you cooked, or put a sticky note on his fridge titled “Babe,” detailing everything you’d ever said you liked.

Emma sees she’s not getting to you, so she changes tactics. “Must be hard being here without any friends,” she remarks. “All alone. And you’ve never been especially extraverted. Are those people the only ones here you know?”

God, Jamie, where are you?

You open your mouth to respond but are cut off by someone with a distinctly midwestern twang say, “I heard one of my favorite countrywomen was here.”

You turn to see Ted Lasso grinning at you in a black suit. It’s the same smile you remember, albeit his eyes are a little sharp. You’d bet anything he knows exactly what’s going on between you and Emma.

“Ted!” you smile as a rush of relief floods your system. You step into his arms for a hug as he says, “Hey, sweetheart. How’ve you been?”

“Oh, you know,” you say. “Kind of great, actually. I wondered if you were going to be here! Have you seen Jamie yet?”

Ted shakes his head. “Y’know, I haven’t. Why don’t we find him together?” He offers you an arm and you take it gratefully, choosing not to spare Emma a glance.

“She seems like a real bucket of laughs,” Ted remarks.

“You have no idea. That’s my ex’s wife.”

Whatever Ted thought you were going to say, he certainly wasn’t prepared for that. He opens and closes his mouth a few times before settling on a short, “Well I’ll be danged.”

You laugh and stand on tiptoes to try to see Jamie. You don’t see him, but you catch a glimpse of an especially tall, blond head.

“This way,” you tell Ted. You brush past Phil who smiles at you, past Colin and Michael, and past someone you’re pretty sure is a Beckham.

You make your way to Erling and Isabel as they dance to the music in their own corner.

You frown. “Have you seen Jamie?” you shout.

Isabel shakes her head. “He was looking for you,” she calls back.

“Oh,” you say, “Ted, this is Isabel and-”

“Erling Haaland,” Ted says, hand outstretched. “Pleasure to meet you, son. Big fan of the way you play the game.”

You miss Erling’s response, startled by a hand on your shoulder. You turn to see Sam standing behind you.

“Sam!” you exclaim with a grin, “You look so handsome!”

Sam returns your grin and strikes a pose. “I’ve been sent on a very important mission. I am to retrieve you and bring you to Jamie and I am under no circumstances allowed to let a small rat man named Jake speak to you.”

You raise an eyebrow.

“Jamie’s words, not mine,” Sam clarifies. “Although I must admit, I have seen this rat man. I do not like him very much.”

“You and me both,” you agree. You wave to Isabel and pat Ted on the arm before following Sam.

He leads you away from the crowd of people to a stone path illuminated by small lights. This can’t be right, you think but Sam points down the path and says, “This is where I leave you.”

He turns to leave then changes his mind and spins back around. “It was lovely seeing you today, albeit for a short amount of time. I hope I will be seeing more of you while we are here. It is not often I meet someone who makes Jamie more tolerable.”

He speaks with a touch of humor and it’s just enough to dispel any apprehensions about what’s waiting for you in the dark.

You say, “Thanks Sam. Love ya,” which he returns before he disappears back to the main party.

You take a breath and head down the steps.

It’s dark, the light barely shining enough for each step, but as you get farther you see a shadowy figure sitting on a bench under a tree. You smile. You can tell exactly who it is by his silhouette.

Jamie stands as you get closer and pulls you into his arms.

“Thought we’d sneak away to make out a bit,” he says. “And maybe to you wouldn’t yell at me in front of all our friends.”

You groan. “What did you do? Please tell me it has nothing to do with Roy. Or Jack. Oh my god, did you two start convincing people you were separated at birth again? Because it’s really only funny one time.”

“Well…” Jamie hedges.

You pinch his back. It’s the only part of him you can reach at the moment. “Jamie Tartt, you’d better tell me what you did right now or so help me you are going to be sleeping on the couch for the rest of our lives.”

“Oi, don’t fucking do that!”

He reaches back to grab your hands and holds them flat on his chest. “We- Roy, Grealish, and me, might have gotten your prick ex kicked out.”

“You what?” you gasp.

Jamie starts speaking in a rush before you can say anything else. “Look, y’know how protective Grealish gets, especially because Sasha fucking loves you, and then Roy heard that your prick ex was here (not the twat ex) and he said it’s easier for him to get in and out of fights on account of him being a fucking manager but then Grealish said that it’s pretty much expected that fights happen so might as well and anyway, no one’s gonna fuckin’ snitch on any of us because (hate to break it to you babe), but you’re, like, everyone’s kid sister. They’d fucking kill for you so it’s possible that we channeled that into threatening to break all of his bones if he ever ended up in the same country as you again.”

You’re processing all of the things Jamie said plus the incredible speed at which he said them, so all you can manage is a single “Okay,” before he’s talking again.

“Ehm, it’s also slightly-fucking-possible that someone did break his foot.”

“What?” you all but shout.

“Coordinated effort between Isa and Haaland,” Jamie says. “Lad’s a fucking wall, don’t know if you’ve noticed.”

“Jesus, Jamie,” you groan. “I don’t know if I should kiss you or pinch you again.”

“You can do both,” he suggests.

You sigh. “I’m going to kiss you. Like, a lot. And I’m not going to worry about getting caught and after we’ve snogged like a pair of kids in high school- sorry, secondary school, then we’re going to eat a bunch more food and dance with our friends. And if you want to get sloshed, I promise I will only take funny videos for myself, and I will not send them to your mum this time.”

Jamie says, “Liar,” as he kisses the tip of your nose.

“Fine,” you concede, “I will most definitely send them to your mum. And Simon. We’re on a group chat.”

“Not even gonna fucking ask,” Jamie says as he threads a hand through your hair so he can get at a better angle to kiss you.

—

You wake up the next morning (ahem, afternoon) to Jamie’s foot in your face.

“Excuse me, sir,” you say.

He hiccups himself awake. “Yeah?” he rumbles. “What fucking time..?”

“Late, I assume,” you say.

He groans and flips himself around so your heads are on the same side of the bed. He wastes no time in tangling your limbs together.

“Oi, koala boy. Some of us have morning breath.”

“No y’don’t babe,” he mumbles.

You scratch his head and a shudder runs through his body. “I know,” you say, “my breath is perfect. I meant you. I just didn’t want to hurt your feelings.”

“Cruel woman,” he returns before lapsing into silence. The sun slips through the curtains, and you’re sure it’s going to be another gorgeous day

“Jamie,” you begin then stop.

He says, “Yeah, love?” while looking up at you with his gorgeous blue eyes and you take a moment to freeze this image in your head.

Jamie Tartt, in bed, hair tousled from sleep. Pillowy white duvet, golden freckled skin, warm body pressed to yours.

He kisses your shoulder, rousing you from your thoughts.

“Jamie,” you say again, “I wanted to say-”

“Don’t,” he interjects. “You’re not fucking allowed to say thank you for the bare fucking minimum.”

“But it’s not,” you reply, opting to skate over the fact that he apparently can read your mind. “Bare minimum is like, making sure I’m not alone with him, not getting your friends together to scare him off and break his foot.”

Jamie’s been kissing your skin wherever he can reach as you speak, so his words are interspersed with pecks. “Technically, the foot was an accident. Ask any one of our witnesses. And besides, they’re your friends too. You’re the one who got ‘em all to like ya despite the fact we’re mortal enemies on the pitch.”

“You’re the one who goes tanning with Jack,” you remind him.

“Lies told by the press,” Jamie grumbles. “This is my natural sexy glow.”

You say, “Okay little British boy,” as Jamie decides that his current position is not enough and he wants to lay on top of you.

He says something but his face is buried in the crook of your neck, so all you can feel is vibrations.

You ask, “Hm?” so he lifts his head.

“What if it were us next year?”

“Tanning or breaking feet?”

“Getting married.”

Jamie goes back to having his mouth on your neck as if the air weren’t just punched from your lungs.

You’re quiet long enough that he lifts his head again to ask, “Is that good quiet or bad quiet?”

“Good!” you hastily confirm. “Good, but, babe- you haven’t even asked me yet.”

He says, “I’m going to,” as if you should have known already.

“Okay,” you breathe, “can you give me like a little heads up or something so my nails are done?”

“Uh-huh,” he says, “At the end of the week. Been planning it. Ring’s in my bag, even asked Stella if she’d be pissed that it’s the same week she took on the most un-sexy last name in history. She said she don’t give a shit as long as it’s not at her actual wedding. So.”

“I love you,” you tell him. “Not just because of yesterday or right now. I just think you’re great.”

“I am great, babe,” he says like it’s obvious. “Picked you, didn’t I?”

You crack a smile. “Alright, that’s enough out of you. Do you want to get out of bed or go back to sleep?”

“Sleep,” he replies immediately.

“Thank God,” you groan, “I didn’t want to move. You’re like a weighted blanket.”

“It’s me sexy muscles,” Jamie says. You wiggle under him to get more comfortable.

“Uh huh,” you agree, but the words are hardly out of your mouth before you’re both back to sleep.

#jamie tartt x reader #jamie tartt fanfiction #jamie tartt imagine #jamie tartt x y/n #jamie tartt x you #jamie tartt #ted lasso

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my-secret-shame-but-fanfiction · 1 month

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The Sweetest Thing

Jake Lockley x GN!Reader • Rating: T •Masterlist• ao3• want to be tagged? | requestinfo• MK Bingo 2024 Masterlist• ko-fi •

Summary: A heatwave hits London

🌛For @moonknight-events MK Bingo Spring 2024 Event🌜

A/N: Set in London.

Warnings: Just some fluffy fluff, swearing, reader isn't american so there's a little playful celsius vs fahrenheit moment, jokey mention of foot stuff (which I am blaming @romanarose for, for no other reason that they are the Foot Stuff gender neutral King.), over use of italics, typos, not beta read, railroad sentences, please let me know if I've missed a warning!

Word Count: 669

You sigh heavily, shoulders slumped as you just stand in the chilled food section of sainsbury's.

Despite it being a little after 8am London was so hot it was like it was trying to rival the surface of the sun.

And the humidity… disgusting.

Why did you have to live in one of the seemingly dampest countries that still expected people to work and use public transport and just live without most buildings and businesses not having air conditioning. It was inhumane.

Jake appeared at your side, grinning. Despite the oppressive heat (given that it was quite cool in the supermarket) he somehow managed to not melt into a puddle on the floor.

“How are you not sweating?” You grumble and he laughs.

“I sweat.”

“You’re a fucking liar, you know that?” The smile in your voice made him laugh louder.

“Sure, sure. Hmm, maybe it's secret moon god perks?”

“Tell Khonshu I will be his foot of the night or whatever if it means I don’t feel sticky and gross.”

“Foot?” He wheezes.

“Yeah, you’re his fisting of the night and-”

Jake spluttered as you both walked to the self service machines.

“I’ll be the one that does the kicking.”

“So,” he scanned the tub of ice cream, glancing at you. Thankfully there were practically no queues at this time on a Tuesday morning. “I’m doing fisting? But you’re just doing kicking? Shouldn’t you be doing foot stuff at the very least.”

You tried to give him a look and not laugh. You did not succeed. “Can’t he at least make a breeze or something?”

Jake smiled and shook his head.

“What kind of god can’t even do that?” You grumble.

Jake pays and takes his receipt, holding your hand as you walk towards the sliding doors.

“What if we don’t go, what if we stay and live in here? It’s cool?”

“Can’t do that baby.”

“Why?” You grumble, pouting a little. You know what you’re saying makes no sense but the heat has made you grumpy.

Jake snorts. “You’re looking forward to it. You’ve been talking about it all week.”

“Yeah, that was before London decided that 38c was a good temperature.”

Jake opens his mouth, a shit eating grin on his face.

“I do not want to hear about fahrenheit. Or how it was hotter in America when you were there.”

He blows a kiss to you. “You know me too well.”

“Hmm. You’re predictable more like.”

He mock gasps. “I’m insulted.”

“You love it.”

He smiles again, squeezing your hand in his. He does love it. Loves that he’s put down roots. That you can guess what silly comment he’s going to make and tease him for it.

The air outside of the nice cool supermarket hits you like the air of a just opened oven. Two steps out and you’re already sweating.

Jake leads you to the brick wall slightly down the road, the one that is bathed in shade by an old magnolia tree and sits, encouraging you to do the same.

He takes the lid of the ice cream carefully.

“What are you doing?”

“Eating ice cream.” He says matter of factly, “you want some?”

“How you gonna eat that?”

“Ahh,” he grins again and pulls out something from his pocket with a flourish. It takes you a moment to recognise it as a swiss army knife. “Glad I can still surprise you.” He flicks it open and shows you a small metal spoon.

You laugh. “Very impressive.”

“As long as you don’t mind sharing my salvia.”

You pull a pretend thinking face for a moment that amuses Jake no end. “Hmm, well considering some of the things we’ve done… I think I’m okay with it.”

“Good.” He digs the spoon in and then holds it out to you, letting you have the first bite.

You lean forward, but dart to the side at the last second and steal a soft kiss from his lips. He was the sweetest thing around anyway.

____________________________________________

Thank you for reading!

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#moon knight bingo #moon knight events 2024 #jake lockley #moon knight #moon knight mcu #jake lockley x reader #x reader #jake lockley x you #x you #jake lockley x gender neutral reader #x gender neutral reader #jake lockley x gn!reader #x gn!reader #my writing #fanfic #oscar isaac #oscar isaac characters

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callofdudes · 1 year

Text

✨GhostSoap incorrect quotes✨

With 141 chaos included.

Soap: Oops, got your mental illness 😊

Ghost: You give that back.

Ghost, pulling out a knife: That was a gift from my father!

-------

Ghost: I'm sorry for being mentally ill.

Soap: ...

Ghost: And a bit messed up in the head.

Ghost: The sex will be good though.

-------

Ghost: Johnny, this place is fancy and I don't know which fork to kill myself with.

-------

Soap: Simon, you're late for date night again, what was it this time?

Ghost, standing in the living room covered in blood: Well...

Soap, sighing: Baby I want to go out for dinner!!

Ghost: I know but just one more time love- next week we can go on a proper date but-

Soap: Hiding a body isn't a date!!

-------

Ghost: I don't want you talking at my funeral!

Soap: What?

Ghost: You can go to my funeral but you can't talk-

Soap: Why??

Ghost: My funeral is my time to shine!

-------

Soap: I don't know what the big deal is

Gaz, sighing: Ok, let's break this down. First of all, you don't fix any of the appliances in your apartment.

Soap: Yeah, it's too hard.

Gaz: You don't fix up your apartment in general.

Soap: Couldn't be bothered.

Gaz: Dude, you can't even fix up a decent meal for yourself.

Soap: What even is a stove. I mean...

Gaz: Do you understand what I'm trying to tell you??

Ghost: Hey, can I have 40 bucks real quick?

Soap, leaning in to whisper: I still think I can fix him.

Gaz: For fucks sake-

-------

Soap: Ghost, what's like a word your parents wouldn't let you use growing up. Like they said it was a curse word but it really wasn't.

Ghost: No, I can't say that, it's too embarrassing.

Soap: Oh come on I'll go first, my parents told us 'shut up' was like a curse. Like it was a terrible phrase we couldn't use.

Ghost: What? My parents said that to me all the time.

Soap: Really?

Ghost: Ok, this is a word we literally never used in our house. I don't even know if I'm pronouncing it right... Uh, love?

Soap: What?

Ghost: Oh I am pronouncing it wrong. Uh, luvé?

Soap: Uh no, it's pronounced love.

Ghost: Oh, yeah, well we never said that.

Soap: Ghost, you- you know I'm here for you right?

Ghost: That's so kind of you Johnny. You know what, I tolerate you.

Soap: What... What?? Tolerate? That's mean

Ghost: What, no it's not! That's like the deepest form of affection you can show somebody!

-------

Soap: Have you seen a person named 'Ghost' around here?

Gaz: Ugh, yes. He made a horrible mess of the blood fountain.

Price: It looks fine to me?

Gaz: IT USED TO BE WATER!!!

-------

Ghost: *Screams*

Soap: *Screams louder to assert dominance*

Gaz: Should we do something?!

Price, observing: No, I want to see who wins this.

-------

Gaz: On a scale from “damn Daniel” to “fre sha vaca do”, how are you feeling?

Soap: In between “it’s an avocado, thanks” and “how did you defeat Captain America”, but as a solid answer I would say “I don’t need a degree to be a clothing hanger”. How about you, Ghost?

Ghost: Probably “road work ahead”.

Price: I speak many languages, and this is none of them.

-------

Ghost: I think Price was right.

Soap: I'm surprised he haven't marched in here to say 'I told you so.'

Gaz: He wouldn't do that.

Price: You're right, Gaz. For once in your life, you're 100% right. I would never say that.

Price: *turns around, the shirt they're wearing says 'Price Told You So' on the back*

-------

Ghost: I just ended a four year relationship.

Soap: Oh, I’m so sorry. Are you okay?

Ghost: Hm? Oh yeah, I’m fine. It wasn’t my relationship.

*Gaz and Price fighting from across the room*

-------

Ghost: This is bothering me.

Soap: Well, you are digging up a corpse.

Ghost: No, not that. That's, uh, pretty par for the course, actually.

-------

Ghost: Can you please be serious for five minutes?

Soap: My record is four, but I think I can do it.

-------

Ghost: Oh just so you know, it's very muggy outside

Soap:

Soap: Ghost, I swear, if I step outside and all of our mugs are on the front lawn...

Ghost: *Sips tea from bowl*

-------

Ghost: Okay. I get it. You've had a really hard time lately, you're stressed out, seven people died-

Soap: Twelve, actually.

Ghost: Not the point. Look, they're dead now and really whose fault is that?

Soap: Yours!

Ghost: That's right: no one's.

-------

Ghost: Soap was banned from the chicken shack, so we had to go out of town to get some.

Soap: Well, they shouldn’t say “all you can eat” if they don’t mean it.

Ghost: Soap, you ate a chair

--------

Ghost: Do you think you’d actually notice if someone didn’t cast a shadow? Or if their limbs were just slightly too long? Or if they had just a little too many teeth? like how many times have you passed Something on the street and you just didn’t Notice It?

Soap: Stay woke monsterfuckers ur love is out there!!!!!

Ghost: Yknow what? Not my point at all in any way whatsoever, but I’m glad I could be an inspiration.

-------

Ghost: Sorry it took me so long to bail you out of jail

Soap: No it’s my fault, I shouldn’t’ve used my one phone call to prank call the police

-------

Ghost: What is your biggest weakness?

Soap: I can be uncooperative.

Ghost: Okay, can you give me an example?

Soap: No.

-------

Ghost: It’s dark in here

Soap: Don’t worry dude I got this

Soap: *Stomps his feet*

Soap: *Skechers light up*

-------

Ghost: I'm 10 times funnier and sexier than you

Soap: 10 times 0 is still 0 though

Ghost: Jokes on you, I can't do math

-------

Ghost, in a meeting: My policy is if you see something, say something.

Soap: I saw a squirrel in a tree today!

Ghost, with the tone of someone who is used to Soap: Outstanding.

Ghost: This is what I’m talking about people.

-------

Ghost: You saved me. I owe you my life.

Soap: No thanks. I’ve seen it and I’m not very impressed.

-------

Ghost: I've already sent good vibes your way… they’re coming. There’s nothing you can do to stop them.

Soap: This is the most threatening way I’ve ever been cheered up.

-------

Soap: Am I in trouble?

Ghost: Take a guess.

Soap: No?

Ghost: Take another guess.

-------

Soap: Remember when you didn't try to solve all your problems with attempted murder?

Ghost: Stop romanticizing the past.

-------

Ghost: I'm a reverse necromancer.

Soap: Isn't that just killing people?

Ghost: Ah, technicality.

-------

Soap: I can explain.

Ghost: Can you?

Soap: If you give me thirty seconds to think of a lie.

-------

Ghost: Fitness tip: never stop pushing yourself. Some say 8 hours of sleep is enough. Why not keep going? Why not 9? Why not 10? Strive for greatness.

Soap: Next time you’re working out do 15 push ups instead of 10. Run 3 miles instead of 2. Eat a whole cake instead of just a slice. Burn your ex’s house down. You can do it. I believe in you.

Price: There were so many mixed messages in that I can’t-

#simon ghost riley #call of duty #john soap mactavish #johnny soap mactavish #captain john price #ghoap #ghostsoap #im having writers block so take this brainrot in my momentary abscence #call of duty incorrect quotes #cod incorrect quotes #incorrect quotes #ghost x soap

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urfavlarry · 7 days

Note

hihi! can i request a fic where the read is ben and aidens childhood friend and they both like the reader? like how would that go 🎀

Love triangle

Ben & Aiden x childhood friend!reader

warnings: swearing, bad grammar, brief mention of gagging

A/N: the texting part reminds me of a part from a book called call me by your name :0

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╰┈➤ ⋆｡‧˚ʚ 🎧🛹 ɞ˚‧｡⋆

Your childhood was a wild one. Of course it was! You had Aiden in your childhood! He wasn’t always like that, and you knew. The same with Ben. One lost his sparkle and the other gained it. You couldn’t lie if someone asked if you were some how involved in Aiden dyeing his hair. How could you not! He would be happy so you would do anything for your best friend. You and Aiden were there for Ben when he was going through tough time, you being the one that bought him his headphones to help him calm down. Of course they were there for you too! When you had family issues, personal issues, or even school issues! They were always there for you as if they were your unpaid therapist haha.

Your summers were never dull when with them, Ben being the only reasonable one and got you two out of trouble most of the time. He was the one that you always called at night when something was bothering you, knowing Aiden would probably already be sleeping, his snoring sounding like a damn alarm clock! Aiden however would be there for you during injuries and things like that. He was quite experienced with patching people up since he himself had to do it a lot on himself. Skateboarding injuries suck ass.

And here you were, looking at your phone, two different tabs opened. One with yours and Aidens chats and the other with yours and Bens. Both having the last message as;

— — — — — — — — — — — —

‘I love you Y/N.”

— — — — — — — — — — — —

What were you supposed to do? Yes you liked them but you weren’t sure if you could choose between them. You gagged at the thought of dating the both of them, thinking it would be weird since they are literally cousins. You shake off the thought, groaning and scream into your pillow. Watching the time go by, you get another text from Aiden and Ben;

— — — — — — — — — — — —

‘Hello? Y/N?? Are you there?’

‘Y/N?”

“HELLOOOO?”

— — — — — — — — — — — —

“Y/N everything okay?”

— — — — — — — — — — — —

You open the messages, trying to type out an answer but every single one felt like it wasn’t enough.

‘I need more time.”

You rewrote that to;

‘Could we talk about it in person?’

Nope! Rewriting that to;

‘Maybe we should just stay friends? No hard feelings right?’

FUCKING HELL Y/N, NO!!

‘I love you too, but I just can’t choose between you two, I love you and Ben so so much, you’re my best friends after all, why wouldn’t I? You have been here for me since we were 8, and I appreciate that but I don’t think I can love one and leave the other behind, I’m sorry.’

Yeah, that seems alright. You send the message and send the same thing to Ben, just rewriting his name to Aidens. They both must be so confused, I doubt they told each other about their feelings towards me, knowing the both of them a bit too well. You hear your phone blow up a bit, deciding to ignore them, you start to pack. Oh reader, nobody told you? You’re moving! Out of the state, well.. to a whole new continent! Isn’t that exciting? Well, it would be if this whole thing wasn’t going on. You’re leaving behind the people you love so much, how sad and American high school movie is that? Your mom yells for you to hurry, grabbing the photos and gifts from the group. You look at your now empty room, walking downstairs you send a quick; “Goodbye America<3” with a picture of your suitcase on snapchat and turn off your notifications. Everyone in the group knew, except Aiden and Ben. You walk downstairs, everything packed and ready. Your mom was waiting for you in front of the car, grabbing your things and puts them in the back of the car.

She smiles at you, hugging you and kisses your forehead. “You ready to go ducky?” She asks and you nod, smiling at her. She pats you on the back and you both get in the car. You get comfortable, knowing it would be a long car ride when you see Ben and Aiden sprinting out of their homes. Your dad drives off, Ben and Aiden chasing the car for what felt like hours yet it was only just a few seconds. They looked devastated, heart broken even. But it’s what the three of you needed; a fresh start.

｡ ⋆ ⋆ ˚｡⋆ ⋆ ˚｡⋆୨♡୧⋆ ˚｡⋆ ⋆ ˚⋆⋆ ｡

╰┈➤ ⋆｡‧˚ʚ 🎧🛹 ɞ˚‧｡⋆

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marvelettesassemblenow · 8 months

Text

Wrong Number

Pairing: Steve Rogers x female Reader

Summary: When Steve texted the wrong number, he started a friendship with you. Most of your talks are about your Corgi Bella, but then you find out who Steve really is

Word Count: ~3.5k

Warnings: body shaming for Steve (don’t worry, other people make sure to tell Steve how beautiful he is), if you don’t like garlic I’m sorry – just imagine it is something else, some swearing

A/N: Texts in [ . ] are text messages

[I’m just asking because Sam begged me to ask you to bring your garlic dip to the barbeque. He won’t shut up or else I wouldn’t be bothering you.]

[I don’t know a Sam?]

[Haha, I’ll tell him that]

[No, seriously. I don’t know who you’re talking about.]

[Good one, Nat. You could have just said you wouldn’t bring it.]

[I’m not Nat... And tbh I don’t know who you are either. I think you have the wrong number

At least I hope Sam gets the garlic dip, if it helps]

You didn’t hear anything else from the unknown number and it had been a few days. When it was Thursday evening and you were bored and scrolled through your messages you saw the unknown number again and decided to send text.

[I hope Sam got his garlic dip!]

When there was no reply in the next minutes you put your phone aside and put more focus on the show running in the background. Then your phone was illuminated by an incoming text.

[He was very sad he didn’t get it. And he did complain all the time while he was still stuffing his face with my apple pie.]

[Wow, so I guess that dip must be very good then. Any chance I could get the recipe?]

[I doubt it. No one has gotten it out of Nat so far]

[What about your pie recipe?]

[Who knows, I might share one day]

[Well a girl can hope. I hope I didn’t bother you.]

[No bother, I’m glad you’re distracting me from some paperwork]

[Well then here’s something else to distract you]

Steve wasn’t sure if he should open the picture or not. He heard stories, but in the end his curiosity won, and he was rewarded. He looked at the cutest little dog who was sleeping on a rather big pillow.

He couldn’t help but gush about the dog and learned that she was yours, was called Bella and a corgi. You shared stories about her and he couldn’t help but ask more and more until he noticed that he should really finish writing his report. But talking to you was fun and so he decided to go to his room and call it a night. He would get up earlier in the morning to write the report.

He messaged you when you were taking a walk with Bella, telling you to be safe. It became a daily occurrence to talk to each other. He messaged you in the morning asking how Bella was, although he knew that she wasn’t with you. It was easier under the pretend to ask about your dog than to ask directly how you were doing. But it was always the second question he asked.

Talking to you was just easier – it might be because he was just Steve. No Captain America, no solider, just Steve who was talking to a nice woman about her dog. And your job, your family – you had been messaging for weeks now and he still learned something new about you.

You still tried to bribe him with pictures of Bella in exchange for the recipe for the apple pie. It wasn’t like it was a big secret recipe, but he enjoyed the banter and the pictures that came in through the day. The latest one was of the dog with her head turned to the side and a crown that almost fell from her head.

[I saw the crown and thought it was fitting as you always call her princess, but she seems to hate it 🙁] was the caption of the pic.

[She doesn’t need a crown to be my princess. Will you go on your walk soon?]

[Yup, just getting ready]

That was the last message he received. He didn’t like you being out on your own at that time of the evening. You had sent him a picture and it was dark, so he always texted with you. But this evening he didn’t receive an answer so for the first time he did something he had never done before.

The buzzing didn’t stop and you fished the phone out of your jacket, it showed an incoming call from Steve. It took you a second until you finally pressed the green button.

“Hello?” you asked. You hadn’t realized that you had stopped walking until Bella nudged your leg.

“You didn’t reply to my message, I wanted to make sure you’re okay,” you heard his voice – and the sound of it made you wonder - not for the first time - how he looked like.

“Were you worried?”

You didn’t expect him to answer with a clear yes. “I did, I needed to check in on my girls.” That did things to you, you weren’t able to handle yet. You played it off and talked about Bella instead, who was getting restless.

“I guess you can keep us company, Bella just wants to keep going.”

“Of course she is, she wants her mom home safe. She’s my good girl,” he said, and it was as if Bella heard his voice when she starred at you. Steve was on the phone with you until you told him you arrived home safely and put the phone on speaker where he talked to your dog while you took off your jacket.

“I have to go now and play with a grumpy cat,” he told you when you were back on the phone.

“You have a cat?” you asked astonished as he had never mentioned it before and only then did he admit that he had been at his best friend's place. You scolded him for talking to you instead.

“As I said I was worried about you. The punk wouldn’t dare to say anything, but Alpine might bite me if I won’t give her some cuddles now. Have a good night, sweetheart.” Before you could reply anything he had ended the phone call and you could only stare at your dog on shock.

“Well, that’s a new one.”

Tuesdays you helped at your local animal shelter. And that day there was a lot of talking and surprisingly many people.

“What’s happening?” you asked Amy when you signed in.

“A lot of people are here today because of the photo shooting. A few Avengers came by to take some pictures for a campaign to adopt more animals. Pretty good idea, but the day wasn’t as good. The photographer was a bitch. There really isn’t a better word for it. She was complaining the whole time, demanding and then she was a real bitch to Captain America. The man came here to do something good, for free might I add, and she looked him in the eye and said “I thought superheroes were supposed to be perfect. This is going to take so long to photoshop these arms with these stretchmarks all over.”

“She didn’t,” you gasped. “What did he say?”

“That poor man excused himself. He said he was sorry and opted to put on some more clothes. Can you imagine? What a crime!”

“Damn, now I wish I had been here. I would have ripped her a new one, this is no way to talk to other people. And especially not someone who risks his life for us. And who in their right mind would look at him and tell him he’s ugly?” You were getting upset and you weren’t even there. Amy asked you if you could take Daisy for a walk and let that information slip that she had been the dog that had been photographed with Captain America.

Daisy had gotten her name because of a white spot on her butt that looked like the flower and you were surprised that she hadn’t found a forever home yet as she was the sweetest dog you had ever met (but you wouldn’t say that out loud when Bella was near).

“I think I cheated.” Your heart stopped for a second before you remembered that he couldn’t be talking about you – as you weren’t a couple.

“You think you cheated?”

“Today I had – I saw a couple of puppies and I slipped and called the little girl princess and then I felt bad immediately when I noticed, and I just had to call and come clean and apologize to my princess. Of course, she’s the only one, but maybe she’ll understand if she sees her.”

“Did you call to apologize to my dog for calling another dog princess?” you concluded.

“I would have come over and gave her favorite treat and some cuddles if I could, so I hope this will be enough though.” There has never been a conversation about if the two of you should meet. An incoming picture distracted you though.

And this time you were sure that your heart stopped, because there was no way! No way that this picture happened today and that you were staring at the same puppy that had been in your arms not 3 hours ago. And had been in Steve’s too. “I’ll just... I’ll put you on speaker so you can apologize to Bella. I have to use the bathroom, I think.” You put the phone on the floor, told Bella – who let out a whoof when she saw you walking away, but decided to stay near the phone and not move at all from her place.

Your Steve was Captain America. Your Steve was Captain America. Your Steve was Captain America. You felt like a damn fool, but on the other hand – what was he supposed to say? Obviously he wouldn’t introduce himself as Captain America. And then you remembered what Amy had told you about that awful woman and you bet he had an awful day while you just let him alone with your dog on the phone.

“I’m back, sorry for disappearing and leaving you with my dog.”

“That’s alright, are you okay?”

“I am! What about you?” You pressed the phone closer to your ear.

“I’m okay too. Feel a lot better now that I’m talking to you,” he admitted, and you could hear that he really sounded more relaxed. “Okay, so I’m going to suggested something crazy here. How about we switch to a video call? You don’t have to show me yours, but you could see Bella if you want to. And me, if that’s what you want.” You must have been out of your mind to suggest that, but now that you knew who was on the other side of the phone, it just seemed fair.

“Only if you want to, sweetheart.”

“Let me change real quick, so I won’t be in my pj’s anymore. But I’ll put Bella on first.” You placed the phone in front of her dog bed and pushed the call button and when you could hear Steve’s voice again you quickly went to throw on a regular shirt and decided to stick with the pj pants. And you couldn’t do anything to hide the growing pimple on your face, so you wouldn’t be bothering about that either.

When you came back and picked up the phone Bella looked confused, then lost and followed you towards the couch where you were headed. In the end Steve had a good view of your dog and a not flattering angle of you. “So guess this is me then,” you said when the other line went still and you saw the black rectangle in the corner.

“Wow, I didn’t think you’d look like that.” You face must have shown you confusion. “It’s nothing bad, its better, but like you imagine how the other person would look like when you’re talking to them and it isn’t that at all, but you’re … beautiful. Seriously, I knew you’d be because of everything you told me, but seeing it with my own eyes. I wish I could show you myself, but today... isn’t a good day.”

“That’s okay, I offered. You don’t have to do that, don’t feel pressured.” Bella made a noise as if she’d agree and a laugh was heard through your speakers in reply.

Minute by minute his mood improved; you could hear it in his voice. He was telling you about the cute dog and you felt like you kept something from him when you didn’t tell him that you knew Daisy. But then you’d give away that you knew who he was and he wasn’t ready to share that. He had only told you he didn’t have a good day and that talking to you had made it better. You noticed that this was the first time he left Bella out.

“So what, you can gush about one corgi all the time, but when I take you to a corgi party, you’re all pouty?” Sam couldn’t believe it. Steve had been in a mood for a few days and Bucky and he thought this would cheer him up.

“Steve, did you see the one dressed up as Captain America?” Bucky was excitingly pointing somewhere in the distance. It seemed like he was having the most fun of the three of them. Steve couldn’t tell his friends that this made him kind of sad, because it made him miss you and your dog. The talking had fizzled out and you almost had no time to call or anything. You still sent him messages when you were on your walk (He just couldn’t reply in that moment because he was on a mission) and you sent him pictures of Bella, but it felt like something was missing since you had your video call.

But how could he tell you that he wasn’t just Steve, he was Captain America too?

“Steve, look at that one at your feet. It’s looking up to you.”

Steve looked down and there sat a Corgi. “Hey there,” he cooed and bend down. “Aren’t you a cute one?” The dog waggled its tail and flopped on its back, so Steve started to rub the belly. “Are you lost?” he asked when he noticed the leash hanging loosely at the dogs side. “What’s your name pr- sweetheart?” He stopped himself, but he noticed the ears standing up when he almost let the petname slip.

Two things happened at the same time: While Steve looked at the name on the dog tag at the collar, someone shouted for Bella and the dog got back on its feet.

“Princess?” Steve asked at the same time you asked “Steve?” and then he said your name or more like breathed it. Bella let out some noises so no one would forget about her, while you and Steve were busy staring at each other, and he had stopped petting her.

The moment was broken by a man approaching. “Sorry, but could I take a picture of you and Oliver? I can’t believe we met the real Captain America!” Steve looked briefly at you, but you offered to take the picture. Bella refused to leave his side and so you took a picture with her at his feet, Steve with a forced smile and a dressed-up Captain America Corgi in its owner arms.

When the man left Steve looked apologetic at you. “I didn’t want you to find out like that!” he said sheepishly.

“Oh, I already knew,” you admitted and looked at the two people standing behind him. After a quick introduction they asked if it would be okay to pet Bella and you told them that she would be disappointed if they didn’t.

“Have you met Winter?” you asked Bucky who gave Bella the pets she so desperately wanted.

“Uh no? I don’t think so?”

“You have to meet her! I just met her and her owner and they are so nice! Winter is actually named after... well I guess you’ll find out. But I bet she would love to meet you! They wanted to get something to eat so you might find them there.”

When it was only the two (three) of you Steve apologized for not telling you sooner about his alter ego.

“It’s not like you need to walk around, telling everyone. I get it, Steve. I’m not mad! You told me about you and your friends, what you like and don’t like. You didn’t need to tell me about your job. And it wasn’t like I told you when I found out who you were either.”

“Why didn’t you?” he asked when you stopped so Bella could sniff at a new friend.

“I thought you’d tell me when you’re ready. And I heard about the photo shooting at the shelter, so I thought this wasn’t the day to bring it up. And I want to tell you again,” you stopped and, with a bravery you didn’t know you had, took his hand in yours and only continues when he looked at you: “Don’t listen to that horrible woman. You’re very handsome and you’re such a beautiful person, don’t let other people tell you otherwise!”

A blush started to appear on his face, but he didn’t let go of your hand and in the end the three of you left the park with him texting his friends they shouldn’t wait for him. Talking to each other felt easy and you didn’t even know why you hadn’t really talked in the last weeks. Maybe it was because you felt insecure after that video chat.

But your friendship with Steve grew and now he was even accompanying you on your evening walks, which often ended with late night talks in your apartment. If Steve couldn’t come it was Bucky or Sam and one time Natasha stood in front of your door and introduced herself (That same night you also found a little note with some ingredients on it in your kitchen). Bella loved all of them and especially the one-time Bucky had a little companion with him.

“Interested in talking a walk with us?” he asked.

“Us?” you asked confused as you didn’t see Sam.

“Yeah, Winter and I were about to take a walk.“ Your eyebrows rose when you spotted the three-legged dog next to his side. “Just don’t ask, okay?” You promised but you would be asking Steve as soon as he was back from this mission! Walks with Bucky were kind of different, not as much was said as it would be with the other ones, but you somehow felt that in the non-talking you said a lot to each other.

“So, when are the two of you making it official?” he said randomly. He didn’t look at you and was instead watching Bella and Winter intensely.

“If Steve is interested in something more than friendship, he should make it known. I thought I had made it clear that I’m interested and if he isn’t taking the next step, I’m not pushing it into something it isn’t.”

“I guess I need to have a chat with that punk then.” Winter and Bella were exhausted from the impromptu playdate and while Bella crashed immediately when you opened the door, Bucky picked up Winter without a struggle, told you good night and made his way back out of the building.

The next time your doorbell rang you it was Steve in civilian clothes, but still with dirt in his face and his hair unkempt. “We need to talk!”

You couldn’t help yourself and you had to take a picture! The sight in front of you was just too cute. “Don’t stand there and join us!” Steve’s sleepy voice suddenly said, and you should have expected that he had noticed you lurking in the doorway. You quickly walked over and laid in the arm that your boyfriend held out for you.

“Did you like the picture you took?” he asked.

“Love it, actually.”

A few minutes later a notification popped up on your phone.

[Steve Rogers posted a picture]

This is real and even heroes aren’t perfect was the headline and it showed a picture of a shirtless Steve - stretchmarks and all - in bed with a corgi thrown over him and they looked at each other with love in their eyes.

Steves Instagram post made the internet go mad. Theories about who that dog was, what made him post after such a long time and then something so extremely personal. And no one was prepared for the chain reaction that followed:

Under the hashtag #HeroesAren’tPerfectEither and #AdoptDon’tShop followed pictures of the other Avengers. The Winter Soldier posted a picture of him standing in front of a dog with only three legs – and without his prosthetic arm. Many pictures more followed and the campaign, that wasn’t a campaign, was more successful than any other. More furry friends found their forever home, although Steve felt that in his case it had been Bella who had adopted him and showed him his forever home.

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delicatebarness · 3 months

Text

bring him home | chapter two

Summary: Reader needs to find her new purpose now that everyone is gone.

Warning: MCU Spoilers. Avengers: Endgame + Captain America: Civil War. Violence. Grief. Mentions of Depression. Swearing.

Word Count: 1307

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A/N: I just finished rewatching The Falcon and The Winter Soldier and it has got me wanting to make a sequel series to this one.

Tags: @crazyforbarnes | @whiminiferous | @armystay89 | @bucky-just-needs-love

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6 Months.

It had been the longest time since knowing your family and friends that you had gone without seeing them. Since Vision was ‘born’ you hadn't gone without getting to see him for no longer than 3 days at a time. Peter, maybe 5 days. Wanda, you saw her every day until she went on the run. Even then, it was still once a month. Steve, Natasha, and Sam. Every 6 weeks you got to catch up with them. And, Bucky. Every other weekend you were spending time in Wakanda.

Wakanda. You haven’t forgotten about your friends there too. T’Challa and Shuri were welcoming, generous, and understanding. They did everything they could to help Bucky and they did, they helped him. Freed him. They allowed him their resources, time, and trust. Keeping your secrets hidden and helping with excuses to visit. You could never repay them. The country now stood without their heirs and their protector. You knew you had to go back and repay your debt by aiding however the people would let you. But, for now, your people needed you too.

You spent hours going over everyone who was reported missing, in the last 6 months, with Natasha and Steve. Making notes, who they are, age, where they’re from, and when the last time they were seen. None of you knew what you could do other than make a note and hope they came back soon and didn’t disappear.

“He meant half didn’t he,” you mumbled as you paused your counting. “stupid, purple, PRICK!” Steve and Natasha turned to look at you, it was infrequent that they heard you say anything negative about anyone. Fair enough, you could have said worst and they wouldn’t have blamed you if you did but it took them by surprise.

“You okay, kid?” Nat asked from the other side of the room. You hummed in response as you wiped a stray tear off your cheek. They both picked up on this.

“He loved you, you know,” You looked up at Steve sitting at the desk. “I spent years watching him with girls growing up and he never looked at them the way he did you.” He smiled down at you, you let yourself send him a small smile. You knew this already, Bucky’s love ran deep and he had shown this many times, it was just nice to hear it after so long.

Airport.

“I’m not going to hurt you.” Retreating your helmet and lowering your repulsors, you give a small smile to Bucky. He looks into your eyes, realizing who you are and what he has done to you.

“Why?” He asked while subconsciously bringing a hand up to rub his neck. “I hurt you.” You shook your head and tried to get closer to him, yet with every step you took forward, he took back.

“Please,” your eyes pleaded with his, you just wanted to help him. You believed Steve, his friend was framed. You barely took a side, it was chosen for you. In all their minds, you’re still a kid. So, when it came to the politics of this job, they made the decisions for you. This time, you didn’t feel like the right one was made. “I know you’re already in pain and I -“

“Don’t know what you’re talking about.” Bucky spat at you, you watched as his face contoured into anger then instant regret. You could see he didn’t want to speak to you in that tone, he just didn’t know how to respond calmly. You were a threat to him. Trying to arrest him for something he did not do. All he knew was, you fought against his side.

“I’ve heard the stories,” you started, he let his head fall, ‘Here we go’ he thought. “You seem like a great friend, loyal, protective.” Lifting his head again to look deep into your eyes now, he tried to find some sort of malice in them. Nothing. “I don’t believe you’re what they say you are.” A smile. Bucky smiled! You smiled back at him, letting out a small giggle. “You fought for us, this country, thank you for that.” You both stood there, staring at each other, blushing.

“Y/N, please,” Steve yelled out as he was approaching you both, looking between you and Bucky, he panted. “You’ve got to under-“

“Go, do what you need to do,” your eyes never left Bucky’s. “I’ll try to,” Pausing to think of how to distract ‘your side’ “I’ll do something.” You smiled, and Bucky nodded. Steve carried on looking between you both, confused. He patted Bucky’s shoulder and gestured towards the Jet.

“Thank you.” Bucky mouthed as Steve pushed him away, Steve turned back and gave you his approval nod which still after 7 years, made you feel accomplished. The symbol of righteousness approved of your choice. You smiled at the two of them, putting your helmet back up over your face and blasting off towards the fights.

Support Group.

You spent a lot of time researching the stages of grief. You thought you had skipped the first two stages and went straight to ‘Bargaining’. There was no ‘Denial’ in what happened. The silence in your life reminded you every second that they were gone. That, and the fact everyone disappearing like that replays in your mind every day. You couldn’t avoid it if you tried. ‘Anger’ was the second stage, which you believe you skipped again. The only thing about everything you ever got angry about was the way they left, they just disappeared. Why? Why couldn’t you have been given time after losing to Thanos to say goodbye to them?

‘Bargaining’ you firmly believed this was where you were at. Trying to find meaning, and help others. That was your stage. You wanted to be able to talk about your loss while being there for the others who have lost. Give them someone to rely on.

You had hacked into many different medical files while doing this research and found out that depression had increased massively since The Snap. The fourth stage. This was the sign you’d been looking for. A way to help people. You continued to gather information and resources to come up with a plan.

“I want to create a safe space,” you sighed as you continued to show your dad a slideshow of your ‘business’ plan. It wasn’t a business, you didn’t care about money, and you wouldn’t be taking any money for this. This would be Stark-funded in its entirety. “A place people like us, who have lost, anything, due to my failure -“

“Our failure.” Your dad interjected, yet motioned for you to carry on. Clearing your throat, you did.

“Somewhere they can talk, grieve, connect. Anything they need while knowing they aren’t alone and they��re safe.” You pulled up a slide including a graph with the depression increase in just 6 months. Your dad nodded.

“Are you asking me to fund this?” He had his face resting in his hand as he looked out at the printouts you had given him previously. You confirmed back to him that you were indeed asking for his help. You didn’t trust what government was left to set this up respectfully. “Alright,” he got up, his figure finally returning to the way he looked before The Mad Titan appeared. Pulling out his wallet, he handed you his Stark Industries company card. “Use mine its got a higher spending limit than yours,” he winked. “Buy what you need and I’ll talk to Pep about-” he waved his hand in front of the holographic display. “All of this.”

After giving your dad a tight hug, you took the card, gathered your things and went venue scouting. It didn’t take long to find the perfect spot for your first group.

Midtown High School.

#bucky barnes #bucky x reader #bucky x you #dad!tony stark x daughter!reader #bucky barnes x reader #bucky x y/n #catws #falcon and the winter soldier #bucky fanfic #bucky x female reader #tony stark x reader #tony stark #the avengers x reader #the avengers

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hannibals-favourite-meal · 2 years

Text

Can We Keep Him Pleeeease?

Platonic Sam Wilson x gn!reader

The youngest super soldier brings home an unusual pet.

Warnings: swearing, Sam is basically reader’s dad

WC: 1.4k

“What the fuck is that?!”

“A smoothie.” Y/N stood awkwardly in the middle of Sam’s living room, a squirming bundle wrapped tightly in their arms, with one hand clutching an obviously empty smoothie cup.

“Oh ok, so just a smoothie then. I obviously wasn’t talking about the FUCKING ANIMAL YOU HAVE IN YOU HANDS?!” Sam threw his arms into the air in frustration and gestured wildly at the gray snout now poking from the hoodie Y/N had wrapped it in.

“Why are we yelling?” Bucky groaned, stumbling from his bedroom and almost running into the Captain. Y/N shoved the cold snout back into the fabric, receiving a grumble in reply.

“Look, a bird!” They shouted quickly and pointed over his shoulder, effectively distracting the super soldier for a couple seconds, which was more than enough time for them to turn and make a mad dash to their room.

The younger avenger sighed deeply, already regretting inviting the teen hero to live with him and Bucky during their summer break from college. He winced as he heard their bedroom door slam shut, rocking the house with the force. Two super soldiers in his home, what could go wrong?

“There’s no bird.” Bucky whined sadly.

“How have you survived this long?”

Bucky shrugged. “I spent most of my life frozen.”

——————

“Ok and here’s a temporary bed for you until I buy you a new one. Or you can sleep with me, it’s your choice. Now, is there anything else you need?” Y/N’s voice was muffled through their door but Sam could hear it clear enough if he pushed his ear against the wood at just the right angle.

He had already ruled out a bird, a frog, and a fish, but everything else was fair game. He was ever so slightly terrified that they had brought home an alligator and he couldn’t put it past them. Sam shivered at the memory of them appearing on the local news after ‘rescuing’ a crocodile from the zoo a few years back. And their defense had simply been ‘she looked lonely’.

“Food! Yes, I have some food for you already. But don’t tell Bucky I’m taking his salmon. He wanted to cook it tonight but we all know that he can’t cook to save his life so this will be a mercy for that poor fish. You stay here and I’ll be back in a second.” Sam didn’t bother stepping away from the entryway, only standing up straight with his arms crossed over his chest, his face set in a disapproving frown that only tired dads could pull off.

Y/N jumped slightly as they opened their door and was met with Captain America’s chest. “What’s gucci, Sam?” The door quickly shut behind them, blocking Sam’s view into the room.

“What animal do you have in there?”

“There is no animal in my room, what are you talking about? I think the added responsibility of being America’s greatest superhero has made you go crazy.”

Sam could actually feel his blood pressure rising. “Y/N.”

“Why would I bring an animal home? Bucky is pretty much like three dogs worth of animal so why would I need another pet?” They were rambling now.

“Tell me what’s in your bedroom or I’ll send you to live with Bruce.” They stopped, their eyes narrowing on the slightly taller man.

“You wouldn’t dare.”

“Try me.” They held his gaze for another minute, silently weighing their options. To live with Bruce meant more freedom with animals, sure but they didn’t know if they could put up with his yoga and ‘breathing exercises’ for months on end. Y/N relented.

“Fine but please, give him a chance.”

Y/N slipped back into the small bedroom designated as theirs but left the door open so Sam could follow. Taking a deep breath, he braced himself for the hell he was about to walk into, and then stepped over the threshold.

The young super soldier was on their knees at the foot of their bed, carefully lifting the yet to be identified pet into their arms. They cooed at the creature, rocking slightly before turning around.

“Sam, meet Jeff the land shark. Jeff, meet Sam.” Huge black eyes stared back up at him from Y/N’s arms, observing the man before it’s large mouth broke into what Sam guessed was a grin, exposing rows of razor sharp teeth. It Jeff wiggled in their arms, pleased with the new person in its space.

Y/N smiled brightly alongside the shark-hybrid thing. “Look how cute he is!” They squealed, hugging him tightly to their chest. Jeff, quite pleased with the attention, grunted happily, his four short limbs waggling around, along with his tail, which seemed to be at least as long as his stout body.

“You’re such a perfect boy aren’t you? Yes you are. You’re my perfect boy.” Sam didn’t know what he was more disturbed by, the shark creature or the fact that this teen, who he had witnessed punch a man so hard, his body flew through five walls of solid concrete, was baby-talking said shark creature.

Jeff’s triangular snout pressed into their pudgy cheek, nosing at their flesh affectionately. “I um- what? I have so many questions.”

“If I answer them, will you let me keep him?”

“No.” Sam said firmly, eyes still fixed on Jeff.

“But Saaaaaaam.”

“No buts Y/N. You brought a dangerous animal into this house without my permission.”

They turned away slightly, shielding Jeff. “You brought Bucky home without my permission so I think we’re even.” Jeff propped his thick head against their shoulder so he could continue to look at Sam, his tail wagging wildly beneath him.

“That’s different, as much as I hate to say it, Bucky is a person.”

“Ha! I told you I would get you to admit it!” Came from the other side of the house.

“Shut up Bucky!” They both shouted in unison.

“You can’t keep him.”

“Pleeeeeease.”

“No.”

“I’ll be good! I’ll wash your car! I’ll go on runs with you! I’ll even do your laundry!”

“Y/N.”

“Sam.”

“You can’t keep him.”

Y/N grumbled something under their breath, tucking their face into where Jeff’s neck would be. “What was that?” Sam raised an eyebrow at them.

“I said Tony would let me keep him.” Sighing deeply, he pinched the bridge of his nose.

“Tony also let you regularly jump out of planes without a parachute.”

“So I really can’t keep him?” Their voice trembled with barely contained tears, Sam’s kryptonite. They clung tightly to Jeff who was now looking at them curiously, concerned whines emanating from him. Fat tears hung to their lashes as their eyes slowly went bloodshot and their chest hiccupped.

“I can barely stand Alpine and I don’t think Jeff would like cats.” They’ll understand logic right? Sam wondered. Y/N’s eyes dropped to the floor, absolutely heartbroken.

And as if summoned, said white cat strolled into the room without a care in the world. “Brrr?” She chirped. Alpine tilted her head at her second favourite person, as if questioning why she hadn’t been picked up yet, like she usually would have when she wandered into Y/N’s room.

Jeff copied her movement as best he could while still being smothered by the teen. Her blue eyes fixed themselves on the shark. With little hesitation, she launched herself up, landing gracefully on Y/N’s opposite shoulder. Sam froze, already coming up with explanations as to why Bucky’s prized cat had been devoured by a ‘land shark’.

But instead of the bloodbath he expected, Alpine nuzzled into his cold skin, the tip of her tail flicking happily. Jeff grinned once more and leaned his head into the cat, accepting the affection.

And when Sam looked back up at Y/N, they were smiling victoriously, all evidence of tears gone from their face. He knew he was screwed.

“Fine, you can keep the damn shark but don’t expect me to look after it. Jeff is your responsibility.”

“Thank you! Thank you! Thank you!” They bounced around the room, both animals hanging on for dear life. Sam couldn’t help but smile at their pure joy of having a new pet.

“Go on and get some food for him and I’ll bring you to PetSmart tomorrow for more supplies. Also, where did you even find him?"

Y/N shrugged. "Side of the road."

"I'm not even surprised. Alright, go do what you need to do, kid."

“You’re the best! C’mon Jeff, I have to introduce you to Bucky!”

And as they ran out of the room, Sam swore he had never heard a grown man scream that loudly before in his life.

“Is that a fucking shark?!”

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