#little beans adjacent

[camtot]

A whole bunch of the trinket dishes I’ve made for the market Sydney ceramic market this sunday!

#he was a skater dog she said see ya later dog #my art #pottery #ceramics #little beans adjacent

[suugarbabe]

Always

Pairing: Mattheo Riddle x y/n

Warnings: slow burn, fluff, smut-adjacent? I guess

Summary: You & Theo have been best friends since year 1. Mattheo has been crushing on you since around the same time; everyone things you and Theo are going to end up together but both you and Theo have others in your sights.

You had met Theo your first ever day at Hogwarts. Really you had met him on the train; you had been so nervous that you were going to miss the train you made your mum get you there extra early. You had found a compartment to yourself in the back, making tiny paper birds with notebook paper and flicking your wand up and down to make them dance. It was a simple spell, a children’s spell really that your mum had taught you. It helped calm you down.

You heard more students arriving on the train the closer it got to 9:00. You weren’t bothered that no one has joined you yet, it was almost more peaceful that way. At 8:59, your compartment door flew open and a mess of brown curls was standing with his back to you, shouting down the car pathway, “Down here, Teddy, c’mon!” The curly haired boy plopped down across from you and almost jumped out of his skin, “Merlin! Sorry, I didn’t notice you there. I’m Mattheo.” You gave a weak smile, but didn’t say anything as another boy came rushing in - more like stumbling- and sat right next to you. He had sandy brown hair and was as skinny as a bean pole. You made a mental note to watch out for his inevitable clumsy-ness in the future.

“I’m Theo, thanks for letting us sit with you. We almost missed the bloody train,” he gave you a crooked smile that reached his eyes. “Teddy and I are first years, I’m assuming you’re the same by your robes,” Mattheo spoke again, tearing open a chocolate frog and shoving half in his mouth. You nodded your head, pulling a knee to your chest. “I told you, it’s Theo now, we’re going to school, it’s Theo not Teddy.” Mattheo rolled his eyes, “Not happenin’, Mate.”

“What’s your name?” Theo turned back to you, smile plastered on his face again. “Y/n,” you spoke barely above a whisper, but Theo nodded, repeating your name to himself over and over again like he was committing it to memory. “She must like you better than me, Teddy, she didn’t speak to me at all when I first walked in,” Mattheo mumbled through mouthfuls of chocolate. The tips of Theo’s earns burned the slightest shade of pink, you found it endearing. “You’re gonna have to get used to me sometime, Princess, we’re all gonna be best friends now.” You turned back to Mattheo, confusion clearly written on your face.

He rolled his eyes again, “It’s like an unwritten rule, duh. The people you sit with on the train your first time to Hogwarts end up being your best friends for life.” You took a deep breath, “Well if I’m stuck with you guys for life, I have a few rules.” Both boys sat up a little straighter, listening intently. “You need to learn to eat with your mouth shut,” you gave your want a small flick in Mattheo’s direction, shutting his mouth immediately. Theo threw his head back in laughter, wiping his eyes, “Okay, you’re definitely going to have to teach me that one.”

“And you,” you turned to Theo, “have to let me call you Teddy.” Theo smiled widely, “If you teach me that mouth sealing spell you can call me whatever you want.” You flicked your wrist again, releasing Mattheo from the spell. He gasped for air dramatically like he had been gagged, “I don’t know when, but I’ll get you back for that one, Mouse. I don’t know when, but expect it.” You tilted your head, “Mouse?” Mattheo smiled proudly to himself, “Yeah, ‘cause when I first came in you were as quiet as a mouse.” You felt your face get hot, your stomach fluttering with butterflies.

You were the last of the three of you to get sorted. The sigh of relief you let out was massive when the sorting hat placed you in Slytherin with your new friends. Theo’s long arm was waving like crazy, beckoning you over to him and Mattheo. The next several years consisted of you three growing closer and closer. You and Mattheo would always argue back and forth. But overall you felt closest to Theo. He was like your brother. You cared for each other at parties, fell asleep on each other in the common room, wore his extra quidditch jersey to games.

People asked you both all the time why you didn’t date. So when Pansy asked you again at the beginning of sixth year you had to roll your eyes. “Me and Teddy? No way, yuck!” You gagged, “he’s like my brother. That’s incest Pans, gross. Never ever no.” She laughed at your response, but still seemed a bit nervous. You raised your eyebrows, “Wait why…do you…OH MERL-” Pansy slapped her hand over your mouth, “Shut it, y/n! Do you want to wake up the rest of the girls? Yes, okay. I’m crushing on Theo.” She covered her face with her hands, groaning and presumably hiding your cheeks that were most definitely bright red.

“Oh this is great, truly,” you smiled. “Honestly, you don’t know how happy this makes me, Pans.” The girl across from you lifted her head, “Why does this make you so happy, Y/n.” Pansy was definitely suspicious at your tone of voice and just your eagerness in general. “Because…” you grinned, “a certain gangly limbed, brown haired boy told me he had a crush on a bombshell black haired girl this summer.” Pansy sat there, blank look on her face. You groaned, “Merlin’s beard…Pansy, Teddy told me he’s had a crush on you for the last year.”

Pansy squealed with excitement but quickly covered her mouth, glancing over at the other girls in the room making sure they where still sleeping. “You know what this means, right?” She sat up on her knees, practically bouncing as she spoke to you. You nodded, in full understanding, “It means we have to make sure you look hot as shit for the welcome party tomorrow.” Pansy nodded, “We both need to look hot as shit.” “Wait why we? Who do I have to look hot for?” You questioned. Pansy tucked herself into her duvet, “That’s for me to know…and you to find out tomorrow.”

——————————

As sixth years you were in charge of party planning. You and Pansy had designated yourselves as lead party planners making sure everything was perfect. You had gotten ready together, making sure each other looked “extra hot” as Pansy stated. You were still clueless as to who you were looking hot for, but you still went along with it. You both let the party get started before you made an entrance. As the pair of you made it across the room you found your group of boys. By the second week of your first year, the group had expanded from just you, Theo and Mattheo to include not only Pansy but also Draco, Blaise and Lorenzo.

Theo’s eyes were glued to Pansy the moment he clocked you guys across the room. You smiled, thanking Merlin that Theo would likely finally get a girlfriend and put the stupid dating rumors for you two to rest. He spoke up immediately, “You look amazing Pansy.” She blushed slightly, “Thank you, Theo. You look pretty good yourself.” The tops of Theo’s earn turned the slightest of pink as his smile grew, still crooked as always. He stood up, taking her hand and leading her to the dance floor.

“You looking fucking sexy, too, Y/n-” Enzo started his sentence but was quickly cut off with a flick of Mattheo’s wand, sealing his mouth shut with the charm you had taught the young boy so many years ago causing the rest of the group to burst out laughing. “Can I, erm, talk to you, Mouse? Alone?” Mattheo stood from his seat. You crossed your arms, “Not until you release, Enzo.” He rolled his eyes, flicking his wand again. Enzo opened his jaw wide, moving it around and making chomping movements with his mouth, “You can rightfully piss off for that one.”

Mattheo just gave him the finger before grabbing your hand. You couldn’t help the way your heart raced when his skin made contact with yours. It didn’t always used to be like this. Sure, you had a slight crush when you were eleven, but he was adorable, all the girls had a crush. It had died down a little when he started hooking up with Astoria Greengrass in year three. But last year, when Mattheo started keeping to himself more, not even hooking up with random girls your crush had time to blossom again.

You did your best to keep it to yourself. You two were still close, not as close as you and Theo, but that’s only because doing things like falling asleep on Theo’s shoulder was nothing. If you were to do that on Mattheo, you’d probably fail every test the next day over analyzing every move and breath he took. Mattheo stopped walking when you two made it to the hallway leading to the boys dorms. The silencing charm cut off right before the halls, making it much quieter and easier to talk there than inside the party.

“What’s going on Mattheo, why did want need to talk out here? And why were you mean to Enzo, he was just telling me how nice I looked, he’s allowed-”

“No,” Mattheo started through gritted teeth, “he’s not allowed, and he was being inappropriate to you.” You scoffed, crossing your arms, “Excuse me?” Mattheo turned away from you, yanking down on his curls. “Mattheo Marvelo, look at me this instant!” He whipped around, slamming a hand on the wall next to your head. You jumped slightly, letting out a small yelp. “He is not allowed to say those things to you, Mouse,” Mattheo spoke softly, his jaw was clenched and he kept his eyes shut, clearly trying to keep himself calm.

You reached up, placing a hand on his cheek, “Why?” The boy relaxed into your touch as he took a deep breath. He opened his eyes, meeting yours as you stared back at him. He held eye contact with you; you had always loved Mattheo’s eyes. Theo would tease him and tell him they were “so brown because he was full of shit”. But you were always quick to defend him. Mattheo’s eyes reminded you of mahogany in the middle. He had the richest shade of brown along the rim of his iris, when the sun caught his face on the train that first day you knew you’d be done for long term.

“Talk to me, teo, what’s wrong?” The corner of his mouth turned up slightly at the nickname. You noticed his eyes flick from your own, down to your lips and back. Your heart rate picked up, not quite believing what he might be thinking. When his eyes flicked down again, you got a surge of confidence moving your hand from his cheek to the back of his neck. You pulled him closer, hearing his breath hitch as your lips met.

Your fingers tangled into his dark curls, his hand that wasn’t holding his weight on the wall found your waist. He took a step closer to you, essentially trapping you against the wall, the front of his body now flush to yours. You mind was tangled, you placed your hands on Matteo’s chest, pushing him back slightly. “What’s wrong?” He asked, “Was it bad did I mess up?” You shook your head, smiling, “No, it was, gosh it was amazing, I just don’t understand how, or why, it’s happening.”

Mattheo rested his forehead against yours, “I’ve always loved you, Mouse. It’s always been you. Ever since that first day on the train, when you charmed my mouth shut with that little attitude of yours.” You smiled at the memory as he continued, “Merlin, no one had ever done anything like that to me before. I didn’t understand it at first but I felt love for you in that moment. When everyone started saying you and Theo should date, I got so jealous. I wanted it to be me. But you were always so much closer with him. I tried to date other girls, to chase that feeling I felt that first time we met but they never did it for me. Not like you, Y/n.”

Your heart felt like it was beating out of your chest. The boy you had been pining after for years just basically told you he loved you since he met you, that his feelings were the same as yours. He opened his mouth to speak again, but instead you tilted your head slightly capturing his mouth with yours. He pulled you closer, seemingly not being able to get enough of you in that moment.

In what felt like entirely too soon he pulled away, “We should get back to everyone else, yeah?” You smiled, nodding your head, “Yeah, s’pose so.” He laced his fingers with yours, leading you back to the couch your friends were sitting. Pansy and Theo now sitting down, Pansy’s legs thrown casually over Theo’s. As the two of you got closer, Pansy’s eyes panned down to your hands. She slapped Theo’s chest, pointing toward you and Mattheo. “Oh thank MERLIN,” Theo exclaimed, causing everyone’s eyes to follow, smiles forming on everyone’s faces. Enzo sat up, “Merlin, finally! We were so tired of hearing Mattheo drown on and on about you, Y/n, year after yea-” in an instant his mouth was charmed shut. Everyone turned to look at Mattheo who put his arms up in defense. You slid your want back in your holder on your leg, shrugging your shoulders, “He talks too much sometimes.”

#mattheo riddle x reader #theodore nott x reader #mattheo riddle #mattheoxreader #harry potter #golden era #mattheo x you

[thetriplets3]

When you're about to cry and he does that "hey, hey" thing

please do this with chris

❝𝐧𝐨 𝐭𝐞𝐚𝐫𝐬❞

chris and i have been together for almost 4 months now having met at a small get together of a mutual friend, which when it comes to them a small get together turns into a party.

-flashback-

i had wandered off starting to feel overwhelmed from the constant talking around me. soon enough i found myself in a room that was turned into a makeshift music studio. the room felt inviting and safe for me to hid in for a while. any open space that wasn’t cover with furniture of some kind was filled with more plants than i could name. the warm soft light beckoned me to make myself comfortable, choosing a bean bag nestled in the corner for an extra sense of security. i curled into myself getting comfy figuring it’d be a while till my friend wanted to go home since i went with her. shutting my eyes i listened to the soft sound of the music playing from the other side of the house. the sound of the mini fridge closing startled me, snapping me back to reality.

“oh shit my bad i didn’t think anyone would be here sorry if i scare you. i was just grabbing a pepsi and was hang out here for a bit but i can go if you wanna be alone i mean you came up here for a reason”

“no no you’re good you can stay i just needed to get away from the crowd it was too much for me. so much for a small get together i should have expected this”

“i get that that’s why i came up here. want a drink? there’s pepsi, root beer, water or iced tea?”

“iced tea please”

he grabbed my drink and made himself comfortable on the adjacent bean bag and didn’t hesitate to ask if i was okay and if i needed anything having heard me mention the party was getting too much for me. i had just met him and he wanted to make sure i was okay, something about that just warmed my heart how concerned he was. we began talking about how we knew the host and the more we talked the more we realized how much we had in common. i’m usually wary of men joining me if i’m alone at a party, you can’t trust everyone most of the time they’re drunk or have some weird intention, but something about chris just made me feel automatically safe. before i knew it it was 4 hours later my friend came in the room outta breath complaining how she’d looked everywhere for me and that she’s ready to go home. not wanting to keep her waiting any longer but also not wanting to leave chris, i begrudgingly get up from my comfy spot.

“i’m sorry i’ve gotta go she’s my ride. thanks for keeping me company i really liked talking to you”

“me too. would i be able to get your number? i’d love to see you again if that’s not too forward”

-5 months later-

safe to say i gave him my number. when we first started dating we both opened up about being hesitant of relationships seeing as it’s my first one and he’d been hurt before, the whole idea of dating was unfamiliar to us but we worked through it and i think getting all of our worries and insecurities out really strengthen our relationship.

despite bring together for a few months he’s yet to see me cry which i know isn’t a big deal but that’s just who i am. i’m a sensitive person but i hold it in and break when i’m alone. i was always a very emotional empathetic child the slightest thing made me cry whether it be sad or happy tears. constantly being told “stop crying” or “you’re crying over that?” really got to me now i try and keep my emotions in.

sure chris has seen me get upset or worked up about something so silly. one time i was putting the dishes away and could hardly reach the mug shelf but nonetheless i tried putting a mug in a spot that looked like it’d fit and pushed it a little too hard knocking the mug i made for chris when i did a pottery class on a friends birthday. the mug was coming straight towards i tried catching it but couldn’t and it landed on the ground with a loud smash. tears instantly pricked my eyes seeing the cup i was so proud of smashed to pieces.

third person

chris was playing video games in the living room with his headset on, one ear slightly uncovered so he could listen to you softly sing to your music finding comfort in your voice and presence. a shattering sound followed by your silence had him ripping his headset off and running to the kitchen to see you with the saddest frown on your face and your breathing picking up. rushing over to you he kicks the remnants of the mug out of the way.

-your pov-

“what happened? are you okay? are you hurt? did you step on any pieces?” his voice filled with concern as his eyes dart across my face for any signs of hurt.

“your mug. i broke your mug” my voice so quiet it’s barely audible but the cracks in it indicating in close to tears.

“oh baby it’s okay it’s just a mug i can get another one as long as you’re okay i’m not concerned about the mug. are you okay?” he says lifting my chin drawing my attention to him instead of the tragedy on the floor.

“but it’s the mug i made you your favorite mug and i just smashed it to pieces i’m sorry i shouldn’t have tried reaching when i knew i couldn’t. i broke your mug” i spew out apologies as tears start escaping my eyes.

“hey hey no tears baby. look at me forget about the mug for a sec i care more about you right now, are you okay?” he says cupping my cheeks as his thumbs rub across my cheeks in a soothing manner, wiping away tears as they fell.

“yes i’m okay”

“good i’m glad” he says as he lifts me onto the counter away from the shards and stands between my legs. “i’m not upset about the mug baby. yes it was my favorite mug but only because i know you made it and i loved how excited you were that you made a mug on your first try making pottery. it melted my heart that you could have made anything and you immediately thought to make something for me. it was the thought and love that went into the mug that made me love it. things are replaceable no need to get upset i’m glad you didn’t get hurt. i appreciate you putting the dishes away you didn’t have to do that”

“you had a busy week i just wanted you to relax and not have to deal with the dishes but then i made a whole scene and- and i- your mug” my voice falters, eyes still watery.

“nope don’t wanna hear it pretty girl i’m not upset or mad don’t worry about it okay. i’ll clean it up. how about for our next date we do pottery huh how’s that sound? then i can make you something too i have ideas already”

“i love you thank you for being so gentle with me and my silly feelings”

“i’d never get upset or over something like this or anything really. it’s not silly for you to be upset over this i know you were proud of it you’re allowed to be sad. i love you and i think it’s beautiful that you have the capacity to feel things so deeply” he wraps his arms around body one arm holding my head to his chest as he plants kisses to my hair.

i love the way he loves me

taglist: @antisocialties @iluvmatt @dwntwn-strnlo @fake-coolbeans @opheliaofficial07 @angelcake-222 @oneirophobic @strniolo @lollibumblebee @ssturniolo @20nugs @strniolo @abbie13sworld @luvsturniolo

#sturniolo triplets #chris sturniolo #chris sturniolo x reader

[missmeinyourbones]

PLEASE NOTICE 

cw: noncanon universe, college au, mentions of alcohol and drinking, mutual pining, loosely based on that one tik tok audio of stan and wendy from south park LOL

“But if you come, we could—” 

Megumi cuts Yuuji off before the words can actually leave his mouth, “No.”

You walk through the door just in time to see Nobara’s face turn from a smirk to a scowl at his unexpected interruption. 

“You didn’t even let him finish!” she whines through an irritated pout. 

Megumi is quick to shrug proudly, “Don’t have to. The answer is still no.”

With a quick scan of the room, there’s a lot of different feelings dancing in the cramped space of your dorm. Megumi sits with his back against the couch, blatantly annoyed with whatever question was in the process of being asked. Yuuji sits adjacent to him on his bean bag, arms resting on his knees and persistence eager in his eyes. Nobara stands behind Yuuji, hands on her hips and her face puckered into a sour frown.

With caution, you decide to tread lightly. “...What are we talking about?”

Yuuji’s head whips in your direction, desperate for some encouragement in whatever he’s trying to persuade Megumi of.

“We’re trying to convince The Grim Reaper here to come out with us tonight,” he uses a nod to gesture to where Megumi slumps on his phone, frown covered by the collar of his hoodie.  

Nobara sighs obnoxiously before explaining, “The bartender at that place on the corner has a weird thing for him, which means free drinks on Megumi tonight.”  

You notice Megumi’s eyebrows instantly furrow at her blunt conclusion. 

“She’s some girl from my politics lecture,” his response is muffled, dismissive, through his sweatshirt, “I want nothing to do with her.”

Nobara scurries over to where Megumi wishes the couch could swallow him whole. “But she doesn’t have to know that,” her tone is airy with faux potential.  

Yuuji lets out a dry snort at her claim, “Some feminist you are.”

A smack is heard, and you don’t need to be looking to know its from Nobara’s hand meeting the back of Yuuji’s head. 

“Hey! I love women,” her hands wave in dramatic clarification, “but if Megumi playing dirty gets me a few free tequila sodas, then I’m more than fine enabling this one situation.”

You make yourself comfortable on the opposite end of the couch Megumi sits on. You don’t miss how his eyes quickly flicker over to where he feels the cushion bend beneath your weight. 

You let your sock-clad foot poke at his thigh, and he’s quick to turn his attention to you. 

“Even if you come and don’t smuggle us free drinks, I still think it’ll be fun,” you shoot him a warm smile. The simple action makes his stomach flip in on itself and his palms sweat with a feeling he can only describe as genuine. 

But what follows? Not so much.

“So fun,” Yuuji chimes in, clearly trying to further persuade Megumi into tagging along with them tonight. “Like, the most fun four best friends could ever have.” 

Megumi’s eyes roll when he scoffs, “My definition of fun isn’t watching you get wasted and being your babysitter for the night.”

Yuuji howls behind a boyish grin. 

“You could get drunk, too,” he teases in an airy giggle, “then everybody wins.”

Megumi’s nose crinkles as he thinks about drinking tonight, “You know I’m not big on drinking.”

“One wouldn’t hurt,” Nobara chimes in, “might even get that stick out of your ass.”

The two choose to ignore her smart remark. Yuuji doesn’t take his eyes off Megumi when he continues to push, “Just for a little bit?”

The huff from Megumi’s chest is instant, “I said no.”

Nobara jumps in again, “I’ll pay for the Uber, out of the kindness of my heart—”

Yuuji suddenly shakes your shoulder with a rough and excited hand. 

“Wait—you know that one guy, right?” he beams. 

Your head turns at his sudden touch, “What guy?”

“The one on the lacrosse team,” he eagerly reminds you, “who was flirting with you all night last weekend.”

“Oh yeah,” Nobara points your way as she remembers, “that was painful to watch.” 

You cringe at the memory—a guy from your campus whom you’d met a few weeks ago. He was nice enough, decently looking, and friendly with the rest of his team—but you weren't interested in him like he was in you. His actions were a bit too handsy and his humor was a tad too crude for your taste. Definitely not worth the two free vodka cranberries he bought you. 

You choose to shrug at the insinuation, “Yeah, I mean, I guess I’m friendly with him—”

“Perfect!” Nobara jumps up with excitement. “He’ll definitely be there tonight. You bat your pretty little eyelashes a bit, get a few extra beers for us. And if he tries anything funny, we bash his teeth in.” 

She claps her hands together at the simplicity of her plan, and Megumi absolutely hates the turn of events that's happened in the last thirty seconds. Sure, he didn't want to go and entertain some poor girl who has a crush on him for a few drinks—but now, with the alternative being you doing the same thing, he’s suddenly sick to his stomach.

He nearly lunges out of his seat when he tosses his phone down beside him. “Are you guys really this desperate for a few free drinks?” His tone is a bit too irritated for the light conversation at hand. 

Nobara and Yuuji spare one another a quick glance, before tucking their smiles into their cheeks and doing their best to nod thoughtfully at their aggravated friend. 

“So, you comin’? Or what?”

“Please, Megumi? My favorite stick in the mud?”

Megumi’s head shakes, and he goes to open his mouth to decline rather disrespectfully when your voice cuts him off. 

“Megumi,” you call softly, and he’s immediately burning a bright red, both inside and out. 

Your eyes are glowing with a hopeful shimmer, one that he can read without any words needed. “I won’t wanna go if you don’t come,” you gently whine, “please?”

Yuuji eagerly hits Nobara’s shoulder a few times as he does his best to whisper, “He’s slipping, he’s slipping.” Nobara grins like a cat, and you swear you can read her lips saying “man down.”

The two of them don’t even try to hide their snickers, but luckily for the two, Megumi isn't focused on them. He’s focused on you—your delicate plea music to his ears as he’s immediately softening and rethinking his whole prior mindset.  All because you so much as smiled and said please. 

With the look you're giving him right now, Megumi could never say no to you. 

“Fine,” he keeps it short and sweet, “but only for a few hours.” 

Nobara slaps his shoulder in victory as she skips towards her room to go get ready, “That’s more than enough time for me, buddy.” 

“You’re still paying for the Uber,” Megumi calls after her down the hallway, and before she descends out of sight, she turns around and salutes him a confirmation. 

With a few giggles, Yuuji isn't far behind her as he too eventually disappears, leaving just you and Megumi on the couch together. 

When he turns to face you, he’s flustered to find that you’re already admiring him. You send him a soft smile, one he knows is saying thank you, so he sends one back and prays to whoever might be listening that you know it's saying far more than you're welcome.

#megumi x you #megumi x reader #megumi fushiguro x reader #megumi fushiguro x you #megumi fluff #megumi fushiguro fluff #megumi fic #megumi fushiguro fic

[ghxstmxchine]

ꜱɪɴɢ ꜰᴏʀ ᴍᴇ (NSFW, Hobie x gn!reader)

It’s so horrifyingly embarrassing.

That’s all you can think as you stand in front of the microphone, trying to muster up an at least somewhat realistic moan. Hobie thought it’d be a funny detail in his new song, presenting the idea to you with the same shit eating grin he was currently giving you from the bean bag he’s laying on. 

To him it was nothing, completely unbothered with the times he’s stood on stage moaning into the mic, sinking to his knees as he made sounds that perfectly mirrored the same ones that followed backstage when you both fucked on the couch. Desperate, loud and horny, enough to drive the fans wild and for you to be stuck between either pretending you didn’t know him or wanting to drag him backstage immediately.

He was shameless. At the moment, you were anything but.

So he takes it into his own hands, it’s not like the rest of his band will be back anytime soon. Hobie’s pushing you down onto the couch adjacent to the mic stand and pulling your pants down without an ounce of shame. You cling uselessly to the arm of the couch, gasping as his nimble finger slides over your hips and beneath the band of your underwear.

Soon enough he’s fucking you, cock sliding in and out of you with ease as his hips clap against your ass. Hobie’s fingers are buried in your hair, pulling your head back so not a single one of your noises can be muffled, forced to voice every sound of pleasure as his cock slides into your hole, so deep you might cry.

“C’mon, y’like this shi’ right? Like me fuckin’ ya? Can’t hear ya, dove.” Hobie groans deep in your ear, spitting complete filth as he eggs you on to be louder. He slaps your ass, bruising the supple flesh with a dark mark in the shape of his hand. You yelp and he grinds his cock deeper, massaging that sweet spot as a reward for being noisy.

“Scared the whole world's gonna hear what a slut ya are? Whinin’ on m’cock like yer desperate for i’?” He’s fucking you like he’s trying to prove his point, bullying his cock inside you and abusing your poor hole in the most delicious way possible. You’re sweating, skin sticking to the leather of the couch as every thrust jostles you. His hand grasps your jaw, urging you to moan for him.

Moans and gasps flow from your mouth with ease, as if the second he slid his cock inside you every bit of shame disappeared. You're whining on his dick, bouncing your hips to meet his every thrust as his length reaches deep, punching out cries from deep in your chest. The mic picks up every whine and whimper crystal clear, a symphony with just your noises, little “ah ah ah”’s falling from your lips with every thrust.

“That’s i’, just like that…” Hobie moans as he pounds into you at a frenzied pace, gradually caring less and less about his bandmates walking in on you too. He was too obsessed to stop, drunk off your noises. “S’that all it takes? A good dickin’ down to get ya t’sing fer me?”

He slows his hips to a deep grind, rolling his hips and letting his dick rub so sweetly against your sensitive walls, balls wet with lube and spit rubbing against you. Spit slick kisses are pressed to your shoulder, his deep voice echoing in your ear. “C’mon, tell me how bad y’want me to fuck you.” Lust outweighs your shame, tears threatening to fall down your sweet face as you try to hump against him. You can’t take it, tunnel vision solely on your pleasure and how badly you need it. “I-I want you to fuck me so bad, make me yours-” You cry out, forgetting about the mic that was still recording.

“So good… all jus’ f’me…” Hobie groans as he picks up the pace, pounding into you. He was definitely keeping that in.

#atsv #atsv x reader #across the spiderverse #hobie brown #hobie brown x reader #gn reader #hobie brown x y/n #hobie brown x you #spiderpunk #spiderpunk x reader

[atinylittlepain]

Will Joel and Mama have another kid in the Unexpected universe? 👀👀

well... since everyone's asking...

An Unexpected Addition

dad!joel x f!reader

joel masterlist

warnings | 18+ smut-adjacent, fluffy nonsense, joel gets dunked on by his family but that's nothing new

a/n | unexpected universe, my darling, i will always love writing for you

........................

“You know Joel’s gonna say no, right?”

“He won’t if you say yes.”

“Ellie.” The girl huffs, her eyes widening in a silent plea that quickly turns vocal.

“Oh c’mon. Look at this face! How could you say no to this face?” At that, Ellie holds up the squirming puppy until she’s nose to nose with him. She has to admit, he is a sweet little thing. The runt of a new litter, which Ellie had explained could not be trained up like the rest of the pack for guard duties due to his size. 

“I had to take him. No one else wanted him! Please, will you please talk to Joel? He’s not gonna say no to you.” She sighs, already feeling herself crumbling at her girl’s pleading.

“Alright, I’ll talk to him–” Ellie gasps, a bright grin across her face, but she’s not done talking.

“But, if we keep this dog, he’s gonna be your responsibility, alright? You’ve gotta feed him, and walk him, and train him up a little. I don’t wanna hear any complaints– he’s gonna be your dog, Ellie bean.” Ellie nods emphatically at that, holding the puppy a little closer in her arms.

“Yes ma’am. You got it! Do you think the old man would be pissed if I named him Joel junior?” 

Lord help them all.

…

Later that night, after getting Libby to sleep, she slips into their bedroom to find Joel already propped up in bed, reading an old paperback. Ellie had kept the puppy out in the garage the rest of the afternoon, promising to keep it under wraps until she talked to Joel.

Here goes nothing. 

“Joel?” 

“Hmm?” He doesn’t even look up, obviously preoccupied with whatever he’s reading. She can’t help the huff she lets out, realizing that she’s going to have to be a whole lot less subtle about this. She pads over to the bed, getting onto the mattress on all fours as she crawls over to her man. Still nothing. 

“Joel?” His eyes barely glance away from his book to her, before settling back on the page he’s on.

“I’m listening, honey. What is it?” He is most definitely not listening with the way he’s squinting at his book, lips parted in a silent mouthing of what he’s reading. She’s going to have to resort to drastic measures. 

“Hey, I was reading that! What’re you–” He cuts himself off, mouth agape as in one fell swoop she plucks the book out of his hands, tossing it aside and straddling his lap, her palms splaying out over his chest. 

“I need to talk to you about something, baby.” Got him. His eyes are wide, broad palms reflexively going to the meat of her thighs, fingers squeezing lightly as he wets his lips.

“What is it, mama?” Her lips crook in a grin, hands trailing up to thread through his hair in the way she knows gets him good and stupid for her. His eyes practically roll back in his head when she tugs lightly at his waves.

“How would you feel about a new addition to the family?” He refocuses on her at that, eyes widening and fingers flexing in their grasp on her.

“A new– to the family?” She smiles, nodding.

“Mmhmm. What do you think about–” Before she can get the rest of her question out, he moves with uncharacteristic speed, flipping them over so she’s laid out underneath him, his hips slotted with hers. He lands a series of sloppy kisses to her lips, leaving her no room to speak as he licks into her mouth. When he finally pulls away, he’s got the biggest grin on his face. 

“I know I said all that shit when I was drunk– but damn, I’ve been thinking about it. About you. So pretty, and soft, and round. Look so beautiful carrying my child, darlin. Can’t help but think about giving you another one.” Oh fuck, not this again. When he dips down to give her another kiss, she holds him back by his shoulders, scrunching her face up at him.

“Wait, what? That is not what I’m talking about.” His face goes slack.

“It– it’s not?” 

“Jesus Christ, Joel, no. I was gonna ask you if it’d be ok if–” Once again, she gets cut off, but this time by the sound of a yipping bark coming from downstairs. Joel’s head whips around, sitting back on his haunches.

“What the fuck was that?” Another round of barks resounds through the house, loud enough to set Libby off crying across the hall. Joel’s already up, bounding down the stairs as she darts into the nursery to grab their crying girl before following him down.

The scene she finds is something else.

“What is that?” Joel has one hand on his head, the other gesturing vigorously to the puppy that is currently massacring one of their couch cushions. Ellie puts on her best smile, stepping between Joel and the sight of the dog.

“That is JJ. Short for Joel junior.” She tentatively steps beside Joel, Libby on her hip now consoled by the sight of the little furball. He turns to her, eyebrows raised.

“That’s the new addition you were trying to tell me about?” All she can do is smile and shrug. Ellie scoops the dog– JJ– up off the couch, finally getting him to stop attacking the now shredded couch cushion. Joel scoffs.

“Oh, absolutely not.” Ellie blanches at that, shuffling over to Joel and hoisting JJ up to him.

“Please, old man. He’ll be my responsibility, I swear! He can stay in the garage with me– and you won’t have to hardly ever see him!” Joel grumbles, getting ready to voice his protest, but just then, Libby lets out a shriek of laughter.

“Doggy, mama. Look!” Her girl points at JJ in Ellie’s arms, giggling again at the squirming puppy. She glances at Joel, seeing that his face has practically melted as he watches Libby. She smiles down at her girl.

“That’s right, baby, it’s a doggy. You wanna pet him?” Libby nods her head enthusiastically, and Ellie grins as she steps over to them, holding JJ up to let Libby tentatively pat his head. When he licks her little palm, she lets out another peel of laughter. 

She and Ellie glance at Joel as Libby continues to pet JJ. His face has gone completely slack at the sight, arms hanging loosely at his sides. She can’t help the laugh she lets out looking at him.

“You did say you wanted a little more testosterone in the house.” He sighs.

“Alright, fine. But that dog stays out of the main house, I don’t want him tearing up the place. And you gotta teach him some manners. You understand?” Ellie grins, nodding emphatically.

“Understood. Thanks, old man. Welcome to the family, Joel junior.” 

“Kid, please don’t call him that.”

“What? That’s his name.” 

#joel miller fanfiction #joel miller #joel miller angst #joel miller x you #joel miller x reader #joel miller fluff #joel miller smut #joel miller blurb #joel miller au #joel miller one shot #unexpected expectings

[youvebeenlivingfictional]

Kinktober Day 11

Day Ten | 🌹Kinktober Masterlist🌹 | Day Twelve

Rating: Explicit - 18+ Only. Any minors interacting with ANY of these Kinktober prompts will be blocked.

Notes: This isn't technically Bruce and Shop Girl, but it can be read that way. That said, because it isn't technically them, it will not be linked on the masterlist for The Other Half.

Warnings: Blindfolding; hide-and-seek/prey-play adjacent; blowjob; cunnilingus; vaginal sex; unsafe sex; creampie

“You ready?” 

“You don’t need to ask,” Bruce argues.

You fold your arms across your chest, taking a good, long look at him. He’s just a few feet away—shirtless, wearing a pair of light grey sweatpants. The view you have of him is one that most of the women in Gotham would likely envy…Save for the fact that his eyes are covered with a bandana, wrapped and tied as tightly as he could stand. You take the opportunity to blatantly roll your eyes, turning toward the crate of bean bags. 

“I saw that," He warns.

Your jaw drops open in shock.

“Fuck off, there’s no way.”

Bruce laughs, and you huff, lobbing a bean bag at his head. He swats it away without hesitance, shifting and waiting for the next one. 

“Little shit,” You mutter, throwing the next one. He catches it, lobbing it back. You yelp, ducking out of the way. 

“Hey! That is not the point of the exercise.” 

“What is the point, again?” 

“You’re slowing down, old man.” 

You grin as Bruce’s jaw tightens. Christ, that’s a good look. You so rarely see Bruce stern like this. You almost never see him as Batman—at least, not up close. When you see him like this, it’s…Intriguing. You swipe your tongue across your lips, stepping as silently as you can to a different side of him. You watch him closely, wary of him showing any signs of catching on. You throw one at him underhand, and he catches it, then tosses it away again. Dangit. 

“How are you,” You toss one, “So,” Another, “Frickin’,” A third, “Good at this?”

You aim the final one directly at his head. He doesn’t miss a single one, either dodging or swatting them away as he inches closer and closer to you. Your stomach swoops with panic. You stop heeding your attempts to be quiet, hurriedly pelting Bruce with the bean bags as you scramble to get away. When you run out of them, you turn your back to him, scrambling to reach one of the discarded bags. You don’t get far. Your fingers just graze the fabric, scrabbling for it as Bruce’s arm hooks around your middle. You shriek as your back meets his hard chest, your heart pounding as he presses tightly against you. 

“Call me an old man again,” He murmurs low in your ear.  

“Why?” You fight to keep your tone steady. “Did it turn you on that much? Should’ve told me sooner.” 

He huffs softly, turning his head just a touch, his lips brushing against your ear. 

“Tell you what,” He murmurs, thumb sweeping along your side. “You run, and you hide, and we’ll see just how fast I find you.” “With the blindfold on?” 

“Of course.” 

You bite your lip, considering for a moment. 

“What happens if you can’t find me?”

“We can do whatever you want.” 

“...With the blindfold?” 

“Like I said,” He draws back with a pat to your hip. “Whatever you want.” 

“And what if you do find me?” 

“We do whatever I want.” 

-- 

You have to be judicious about your hiding place. The Manor is so vast, and there are so many rooms that you’ve never gotten around to exploring. Now isn’t the time to poke around. You need your hiding place to be strategic. You need a spot that you know well already—one with good cover and where you can fidget without making much sound. You’re awful at sitting still in general, and worse still when you’re stressed. 

You duck into the kitchen, looking around. Bruce gave you a two-minute head start, and you trust him to keep to it, and not to remove the blindfold. Still—with how easily he’d managed to defend against the bean bags, you’re not certain you’ll be able to hold out long. You look around hurriedly, beginning to panic. Shit, shit shit shit. Where can you hide? In a cabinet? In the pantry?

You turn, spotting the long table in the middle of the room. You hurry over to it, gently lifting the chair at the head of the table back. You hurriedly crawl under the table, sliding the chair back in as quietly as possible. You lay down on your belly and draw in deep, even breaths, trying to calm your pounding heart. It’s going to be fine. It’s going to be fine. Bruce probably isn’t going to bother to look for you down here.

-- 

The padding of his feet makes your heart leap into your throat. Your hands curl into fists, and you swallow thickly. Keep calm. Keep calm. Deep, even, quiet breaths. You don’t dare move a muscle. You glance up, spotting Bruce’s feet as he walks deeper into the room. He’s moving slowly, with care. You can hear him sweeping his hand across the cabinets, knocking his hand across the countertops. You glance over, tracking his feet as he walks slowly around the table. Your stomach swoops as you hear him lifting away the chair at the other end of the table. You hesitantly lift your head, turning it slowly to look at Bruce. 

He crouches beside the table. If he didn’t have his blindfold on, you’d be almost certain that he was peering directly at you. It’s a long, harrowing, silent moment before he straightens up. You puff out a quiet, relieved breath. He’s missed you, thank god—

You scream as his hands close around your ankle, yanking you out from under the table. You pant, panicked as you roll onto your stomach, batting at his chest as nervous giggles burst from your lips. He grins, grasping your wrists and pinning them above your head. His smile is bright, giving you a good view of his dimples. You giggle again, shifting beneath him. 

“That was stupidly fast.”

“I didn’t cheat,” Bruce insists. 

“I know you didn’t.” 

-- 

Your eyelashes brush against the scratchy fabric of the bandana as you feel the cool marble of the floor against your bare body. You can’t see him, but you can feel Bruce all over you. You can feel his lips brushing against your neck, his chest pressed hotly against yours as his hips rolls against yours. He’s hard and hot against you, his thigh is tucked between your legs for you to grind up against. 

You whimper softly, pressing up against him as much as you can. His hands are grasping your wrists still, keeping you prone no matter how much you struggle against him. You raise your legs, hooking them around his, and fighting back a warming swell of embarrassment as he chuckles. 

“I didn’t think you’d get this turned on from a little game of hide and seek,” He teases. 

“It wasn’t that. At least—it wasn’t just that.” 

“Oh no?” He tips his chin up, nipping your earlobe. “You wanna tell me just what it was?” 

“Bruce,” You whine softly, grinding down against his hard, muscled thigh. “Are you gonna be a dick and drag this out, or are you going to give me what I want?” 

Bruce hums thoughtfully, and you feel his body lift away from yours. You can hear him shifting, feeling the grip on your wrists turn. 

“I thought that the deal was that if I won, I could have whatever I wanted," He reminds you.

“What do you want?” 

You wait for a few, harrowing, silent moments before you feel the brush of his cockhead against your lips. You part them, swiping your tongue across the head. You hear Bruce groan softly, feel him pressing more deeply into your mouth. You bob your head, taking as much of him in as you can with your neck craned in such an awkward position. Bruce lowers his hand to trace the swell of his cockhead as it presses against the inside of your cheek. His fingers trail down your neck, along your clavicle before delicately swirling around your pebbling nipples. You strain up into the touch, whining in frustration as he never quite makes the contact that you’re aching for. 

You pout as you feel Bruce draw back. Before you can complain, he slaps his slickened head against your lips again, groaning softly as you stick your tongue out for him. He curses under his breath, giving his hips one more harsh shove before he pulls away again completely. You frown as his grip on your wrists slackens, then disappears completely. Your stomach flips with anticipation and confusion as you feel him grip your thighs, spreading them wide.

The first hot swipe of Bruce’s tongue against your needy pussy makes you moan, your hands blindly scrabbling for purchase. You finally hook them in Bruce’s hair, using the grasp to steady him as you drive your hips down against his lips. You can feel the vibration of Bruce’s soft chuckle, chased by the tug of him drawing your clit between his lips. You pant softly as you drive into the sensation. You raise a hand from his hair, teasing your breasts and swiping over your tender nipples as Bruce laps hungrily at your folds. 

You press your heels down against the cool tile, thrusting your hips up against him. If he keeps it up, just like this, you could just—

You whimper, loosening your grip on Bruce's hair as he draws away. Before you can lower your hand between your legs to finish yourself off, Bruce catches hold of your wrist, using it to tug you up off of the floor. You let him maneuver you, straddling his lap. You can feel his hard cock nestle against your pussy, sending a wave of anticipation through you. You wrap your arms around his shoulders, following his guiding touch as you sink down onto his cock. 

Your eyelids flutter beneath the bandana, your breath catching in your throat as you adjust to the feeling of him. You wind a hand into his hair again, brushing your lips along Bruce’s cheek, then lips as you’re able to find them. Bruce curls his arms around your waist, holding you still as he begins to thrust into you. Your kisses turn to open-mouthed brushes and exchanges of breath as he sets a punishing pace. You can’t help the moans and whines that fall from your lips, uncaring of how loud you’re being. 

Bruce seems to care, though. 

Your world floods with light as he tugs the bandana down from the back of your head, using the hold on it to tuck it between your lips. You bite down on it, whimpering brokenly as he keeps a tight hold on the fabric. You take in Bruce’s face—his darkened eyes, the flush that’s risen up in his cheeks, his pinked, kiss-plumped lips. You watch him dip his head to your neck, feel the way his loving kisses roughen, turning to nips and bites and sucks. His pace becomes more frantic, his thrusts harsher, almost aimless. 

You gasp sharply as he tips the two of you, cradling your head as he lowers you back down onto the floor. He plants his knees and grasps your shoulder, driving into you at a relentless pace. You slip a hand between your bodies, swiping over your tender clit until you’re tightening around him, your muffled shout dampened by the gag. Bruce’s hips pound against yours until they stutter and slow. You sag against the floor as you feel him spill into you. He bows over you, resting his forehead against your shoulder, then slowly drawing away, settling on  the floor beside you. 

You reach up, gently prying the gag from between your lips, swallowing dryly as you peer up at the ceiling, your heart still pounding in your chest. You feel Bruce turning to look at you, hear his contented sigh before he asks, 

“What was that about me slowing down?” 

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#Bruce Wayne x Reader #Bruce Wayne x You #Bruce Wayne/Reader #Bruce Wayne/You #Bruce Wayne fic #Bruce Wayne imagine #Kinktober #Kinktober 2023

[imaginedreamwrite]

Wildest Dreams: Part 3

The phone had nearly slipped from his hand when he had been pushed against the shelf by Steve, the two fit men hiding away in the back of the library, seeking out any of the darker rows of books stacked neatly.

They were trailing after your scent like little lovesick puppies, so driven to find every place you had liked to be or had frequented they had nearly caused one of the student librarians to topple the cart of books she was pushing around, and in doing so had earned the scorn of the head librarian.

Steve and Bucky had been told by one of their newest freshman players that you always tried to study at the same table in the library.

It was a table closer to the back than the front and had been placed near two windows that were adjacent to each other which provided natural light and warmth from the sun when it was at its peak, and the glow of the sunset when it was dusk.

The table itself was not overly sought after by most people who had come to study here, the table was closer to the back and had been quite the walk to the front desk, and the windows had let in too much light for someone who was hungover trying to do a crash course study session before classes.

For you, however, it was perfect.

“If we get kicked out, I’m kicking your ass.”

“Did you say kick or kiss?” Bucky grinned solicitously and jerked his head forward to peck Steve on the lips, startling the blonde and bringing him back to a defaulted position physically and mentally.

There was a moment of conjecture where Steve had blinked and blushed, pink dusting his cheeks and the bridge of his nose as he snapped his jaw closed and cleared his throat. His hands had loosened against Bucky’s shirt, and he had even begun smoothing down the soft cotton when both of the alphas had stilled.

“It’s-“ Bucky had inhaled deeply, his eyes closing momentarily when your scent had become the densest and most powerful, the soft mix of florals and sweetness made both of their mouths water.

It was the addictiveness of your scent and the powerful twist of their hindbrains that had automatically become attuned to you even after all the years that had passed between you three.

“Fuck,” Steve rest his forehead against Bucky’s shoulder and whined, the headiness of your scent was both exhilarating and debauching.

There was no end to how delirious you had made them, to how strong and innate their need to be around you and feel you were. You may not have felt the jarring surge of wanting and needing, and you may not have been aware of how potent and vivacious the connection still was between you three but they did.

Steve and Bucky knew, they felt it. Maybe you had closed yourself off to it, maybe you had denied yourself and your hindbrain, or perhaps you had shoved it so far down into yourself that you refuse to acknowledge it at all. But they knew, and they felt it.

“Are you kidding me?” You stood at the end of the aisle, a stack of books already in your arms that were threatening to topple over.

You had appeared comfortable wearing an oversized campus hoodie that was drenched in your scent, and a pair of dark leggings that were tucked into a pair of cheap dark suede boots. You had pulled your hair out of your face and secured it with a single black headband that was held into place with a few bobby pins and had completed your comfortable and cozy appearance with a pair of headphones that were draped through the front of your hoodie, almost as if they were strings.

“Hey,” Steve had huffed and let Bucky go, his cheeks still heated and pink from the blush that afflicted him, “how’s it going?”

“Hey, beanie!” Bucky’s chipper attitude had come as he squirmed out of Steve’s grip to lean against the bookshelf, one hand resting above his head on the shelf and the other on his hip. “Omega bean-“

“Do not call me that.” You furrowed your brows and pursed your lips, your eyes darting between Steve and Bucky. “You didn’t have sex here, did you?”

“Not yet-“ Bucky chortled and then grunted when Steve smacked his chest with force, shooting his boyfriend and best friend a dirty look.

“We were hoping to talk to you.” Steve had drawn in a soft breath, attempting a subtle gulp of your scent as he craved and needed to let it fill your lungs.

“Talk to me?” You cautiously entered the aisle, taking a wide berth around them before you ultimately sidestepped the two alphas. “What could you possibly want to talk to me about?”

They watched as you scoured the section you were in for a certain book, your scent reeling as the lingering awkwardness and silence had grown headier. You had pursed your lips and shifted your weight from foot to foot, the stack of books in your arms getting heavier than expected, and with it, you had groaned and shifted them to your other arm.

“Do you want…help?”

“What?” You turned to look at them, a clear divide between how you felt and how you were projecting your feelings.

“Your books look heavy, do you want help?”

“Not to be rude, but what do you want?” You brushed their attempt to help off, denying them with a stark question.

You held their gazes until you couldn’t anymore, and had to look away. You had pressed your fingertips against the spine of a random book, almost as if you were going to pull it out but changed your mind. Rather than grab it you had mouthed the title with the flutter of your lips and the bashful bat of your eyelashes.

Both of which had made Steve and Bucky weak in the knees, it had rattled them to their core. The simple few actions had stirred innate desire that bubbled under their skin to afflict them with an intense need to feel you.

“It’s been a while.” Steve had looked at Bucky as if to beg him to help while the three of you took over this space. “Thought maybe we could talk.”

“What could you ever want to talk about? Football? Cheerleading? Barnes abnormally large head?”

“My head is not large,” Bucky gasped dramatically, resting a hand on his chest, “unless you’re talking about the other head.”

“Bucky!” Steve scolded him, reaching out to pinch his arm with a sharp hiss.

“I didn’t know the definition of microscopic now meant huge.” You dug at Bucky, firing a comment at him that had produced a playful laugh equivalent to water rolling off a duck’s back.

He was no more bothered by your comment than he was unamused.

“Omega Bean, I swear-“

“You two!” The librarian stepped around the corner and smacked her hand against the front of the shelf, drawing their attention away from you. She stood at the end of the row with a sour look on her face and a sneer tugged at her lips.

“I thought I told you to leave.” She raised an eyebrow, looking upon you with indignation.

“I’m not with them.” You denied knowing them, stepping away with a flourish of your bag, smacking it against Bucky’s side.

“Good conversation. Wish it was shorter.”

You think you have peace to work on your latest assignment, you think you can enjoy your spiced chai latte without interruption. You have hope that you can hash out the last few noted details that you wanted to add to your paper before you had gone back to your dorm to type it up.

It was all part of your process of studying and doing research, you would write down points and facts, referencing where you could find it if you had to go back, and then you would return to your dorm to put it all together.

Usually, you would remain unnoticed and unbothered, especially as new as you were to the university. Your hopes were dashed when you return to your favourite study desk after seeking out an additional book and found someone hanging around your desk.

“Hey girl!” She appeared to the left, the cheerleader that was hanging off Steve.

She stood to the left of your desk with a friendly smile on her face that matched her equally bright eyes and her tight ringlets pulled out of her face and secured with a silk pastel pink scrunchie that had only let a few loose pieces out of the hold.

The last time you saw her when she was hanging off of Steve, she was wearing a tight cheerleading skirt and matching crop top with pompoms. She had been sandwiched between Steve and Bucky, while Steve had his arm around her waist.

You were as remiss now as you were then, struck with a direct bolt of envy and jealousy that had sunk deep in your veins and boiled under your flesh. You had bit down on the inside of your cheek as she stood by you and the desk, waiting for you to say something.

You were damn jealous. You shouldn’t be jealous, but you were.

“Can I sit here?” Instead of the pompoms and skirt, she’s wearing a pair of tight black leggings that were branded with the cheer team’s name down the side of her right thigh, and the symbol of the school set below the writing.

Keeping with her change from her cheerleading uniform, she had worn a royal purple hoodie with the name scrawled across the front. “If you wouldn’t mind?”

“It’s fine.” Your reply is quiet and you watched her as she pulled out the chair from under the desk and sat down, scooting herself back toward the desk with a sprawling charm.

“Listen, about what you saw at the welcoming party-“ She cleared her throat and began the explanation you didn’t think you wanted, and you had reacted with a strengthened offence, preemptively cutting her off.

“I don’t care.” You spoke over her and bowed your head, furiously scrawling at the notepad in front of you. “I don’t care that they fuck around-“

Her laugh had made you take pause and you lifted your head to stare her down with pursed lips. There was a lingering question in your eyes and the halt that you had taken was only another catalyst to make her grin.

“Seems like you do.” She leaned forward and tapped her fingers against the back of your hand, her nails lightly pecking your flesh. “For what it’s worth, I’ve got a boyfriend and an alpha of my own. The other girls on the team…Steve and Bucky are protective of them.”

Silence had come between you, the obvious disconnect between her being interested in Steve and Bucky as alphas, and her description of them like brothers to the girls on the team seemed glaring.

And yet, you had seen from their instas that they had willingly and wantonly occasionally brought a thrift into their relationship. Were you supposed to ignore that for the sake of a triad that wasn’t even real?

“They’re like big brothers who hate how other boys look at us like we’re stupid and bubbly.” She rolled her eyes and tucked her hand under her chin, sighing heavily. “I’m studying engineering but all anyone sees is a perky little cheerleader-“

“I’m sorry.” You apologize to her, stumbling over your discerning thoughts about her, every speculation and judgement felt derogatory now. “I didn’t-“

“Hey, it’s okay.” She laughed under her breath and shrugged her shoulder, casting off the various doubts and speculations with a wave of her hand. “If I saw my boys hanging around other omegas without context-“

“They’re not….they’re not mine-“ You cut her off again, intending on setting the record straight immediately. You needed her to know that they weren’t yours, they had never really been yours. Everything that happened between you was a thing of the past.

“Are you sure?” She questioned you with a tug of her lips before they formed a half-smirk. “They’re pretty smitten about you.”

“What? No, they’re not.” You denied the claim with derision, dropping your pen onto your notepad with a subtle and muffled thud. “I don’t-“

“God, yeah! You’re all they can talk about since they saw you. Omega bean, that’s so cute! And you are cute! Look at you!” She’s so gleeful and bright, confident in everything she is and you’re struck again with envy.

It eats at your core and you find yourself furiously turning pages in your textbook for an excuse to keep your hands busy.

“Thank you?” You finally mumbled, raising your head just as she had started to push her chair back and stand, one hip cocked.

“Anyway, I gotta run to class but…” She had leaned forward and pushed a folded piece of paper your way, grinning before she stepped back.

“You seem like a really fun person and I know you’re new on campus so if you ever want to hang out, you have my number. Contrary to what some of the boys believe, we don’t sit around gossiping and doing nails. We do however play boozy Mario party and Mario Kart. The next game is Saturday night if you’re interested. My name is Rhys, by the way.”

“Umm…thanks…” you slid the paper toward you and studied the number but by the time you raised your head, she was gone.

Permanent Tags List: @jennmurawski13-writes @beardburnsupersoldiers @daydreaminginthechaos @rebekahdawkins @supraveng @bookfrog242 @old-enough-to-know-better73 @loveitorleaveit20 @alexakeyloveloki @socalgem1124 @mogaruke @dreamlessinparis @frisky975 @dispatchvampire @hereforbuckyandsteve @jesgisborne @fairybnha3 @hallecarey1 @tang082646 @mrslokibarnesrogers @deputy-videogamer @posionivy0061 @loving-life-my-way @kaylamcd2000 @mercyy98 @undecidedsworld @rootcrop @whatinthestyles @slutforsteve @cornmousequeen @rededfoxy @yagurl-snow @glimmering-darling-dolly @patzammit @buckymydarlingangel @missusbarnes-rogers @andy-is-gay @nervousfandom @rileyloves5 @emi11ie @carelessreadersstuff @readingandwritingandreading @cynic-spirit @inkedaztec @gh0stgurl @cats-and-sheep @pono-pura-vida @seitmai @teambarnes72 @jaqui-has-a-conspiracy-theory

#college football au #football!steve rogers #football!alpha!bucky barnes #football!alpha!stucky #alpha!stucky x reader fluff #alpha!stucky x reader #alpha!stucky x omega!reader #alpha!stucky x omega!Reader fluff #stucky x reader fluff #stucky x reader angst #stucky x reader x reader smut #wildest dreams #wildest dreams masterlist #wildest dreams part 3

[lackadaisicallizard]

joey give me ravenrock please im dying

- 🧠

🫡🫡

Meeting

Peter is more than a little bit stressed.

They have a potions essay due tomorrow and there’s a lot that he doesn’t remember about the Draught of Living Death. Probably because when Slughorn was explaining the properties of the potion last week, a very loud bang appeared from the direction of a certain two Gryffindors’ cauldron, emanating a smoke that had somehow dyed all their hair red. It’s safe to say the class was fairly disrupted after that. As was Peter’s evening, despite him having nothing to do with that particular incident. Sure, he provided a distraction for them to get away, but that was neither here nor there.

In any case, this evening he’s remove himself from the dorm room and Sirius current attempt to somehow get even further into Remus’ lap because he needs a bit of peace and quiet to remember what the hell a sopophorous bean does.

“It’s actually quite important,” Peter looks up from where he’s death-glaring the textbook that doesn’t give him anywhere near enough useful information, only to meet a pair of unfamiliar blue eyes. “The sopophorous bean is the key ingredient in the Draught of Living Death. It's what makes the potion induce that deep, dreamless slumber. Without it, the potion just wouldn't work the same way.”  

The eyes belong to Benjy Fenwick, a Ravenclaw from their year, who is sitting at the table adjacent to him. Peter knows who he is, he knows the names of most people in their classes, but he doesn’t recall ever saying more than two words to him until now. “How did you-”

“You were muttering out loud and I figured I would give you a better answer than your piece of paper.”

Peter frowns. “Sorry, I didn’t mean to interrupt your…” he looks down at the other boy’s parchment, which is adorned with some of the neatest writing Peter has ever seen.

“Charms homework,” Benjy finishes for him. “There’s no need to apologise, this conversation is far more interesting than learning how to splint an arm.”

“Ferula?”

Benjy nods, his lips stretching into a smile. “It seems you’re better at Charms than you are at Potions.”

Peter furrows his brows. “Rude.”

Benjy’s smile turns into a light laugh, Peter finds it increasingly difficult to maintain his irritated expression. “I’m only joking. You’re actually quite good at both.”

Peter blinks at him. “When have you seen me doing either?”

He raises his eyebrows. “Really? I’ve been in the same classes as you for six years now.”

“Well yeah, of course, but you can’t have paid enough attention to notice how good I am at it, surely?”

It’s Benjy’s turn to frown now. “You don’t think people notice you?”   

“Well, sure, when I’m mucking around with the lads, but when I’m occasionally doing work? It’s nothing interesting.”

Benjy looks at him for a moment, the small crease between his eyebrows is far more distracting than it should be. “You really have no idea do you?”  

“About what?”

“You’re always interesting.”

A soft smile causes an unexpected fluttering in Peter’s chest.

“I think the word McGonagall used was disruptive.”

He chuckles. “Well yes, that too.”

Peter grimaces. “Sorry.”

Benjy shakes his head. “You apologise a lot.”

Does he? He’s never really noticed.

“I guess it comes with the territory when you have friends like mine.” Peter’s tone isn’t resentful when he says this. He wouldn’t trade them for the world. Even if he does spend far too much time in McGonagall’s office.

“Yes, you are quite the bad boy, aren’t you?”

Peter screws up his face. “I don’t think anyone has said that about me ever.”

“I did, just now.”

“Well clearly you don’t know me well enough.”

Another laugh. It’s not at all mean though, like he’s laughing with Peter rather than at him. He smiles again then, eyes alight with something that Peter can’t quite name. “Maybe we could change that?”

The fluttering transforms into a proper thumping in his chest as Peter feels heat rush to his cheeks. “You want to get to know me?”

“Yes,” Benjy meets Peter’s eyes, captures his gaze. “I really do.”

Peter has no idea what’s happening right now. Doesn’t know how his lamenting over a rather annoying bean has led to what feels suspiciously like flirting.

He doesn’t mind it, though. Doesn’t mind it at all, and so he holds Benjy’s gaze for a second longer before smiling back, his cheeks definitely a shade pinker than they were a minute ago.

“Okay,” he nods.

“Cool,” Benjy nods back. “I guess I have to thank Flitwick for the Charms homework after all.”  

“And why’s that?”

“I got to talk to a cute boy.”

Yep, he’s definitely blushing now. And he’s definitely going to fail his essay.

#marauders #peter pettigrew #benjy fenwick #ravenrock

[umbralstars]

FE OC Week day 1: Introductions! Today I would very much love to introduce Emyr, my first 3H oc who I made 2 years ago! He's the (illegitimate, kinda) grand prince of Itha; aka Rufus' heir. He's a few years older than Dima and, long story very short: he ran away during the aftermath of the Tragedy for a number of reasons and joined up with Jeralt's Mercs (with his little sister) under the alias "Robyn."

He gets found out in the aftermath of Conand Tower when he protected Dimitri with his mask literally coming off (a mask that I still haven't designed as of yet). He goes back home, almost gets executed by Cornelia as an "accomplice" to Rufus' murder, and becomes the Grand Duke to help hold what's left of Faerghus together.

He later becomes a Griffin Knight and thus has a griffin named Sirin who's been with him since childhood. Emyr has a great respect and fondness for his uncle Lambert, his childhood best friend Glenn, and complicated feelings towards Rufus. Much of his story revolves around how he interacts with the various influences in his life and who he wants to ultimately be as a lord and a person. His mother's family is from the Ruska region and have long connections to Sreng. @fe-oc-week

Extra stuff below :)

Chivalry (Personal Skill): Adjacent allies and unit deal 3 extra damage and take 2 less damage during combat.

Weapon Skills (at time of recruit)

Swords: D

Lance: D+ (strength)

Axe: E (weakness)

Bows: C (strength)

Brawling: E (weakness)

Reason: E+ (strength)

Faith: D+ (strength)

Authority: C (strength)

Heavy Armor: E

Riding: E+

Flying: D (budding talent)

A lot of his skills start elevated because 1) he's already been to Garreg Mach before and is a mercenary currently and 2) he's meant to be a unit who's immediately usable and on-par with the units you've already been teaching. All of his skill ranks come from friends or family who helped to teach him or previous experiences he's had.

Just a note on the brawling: he's not bad at it, he just avoids it cause he doesn't know if he can always keep his strength in-check. Same reason he avoids Axes, though he also finds those unwieldy.

Gifts

Likes:

Whetstone

Legends of Chivalry

Riding Boots

Board Game

Dislikes:

Gemstone Beads

Coffee Beans

Floral Adornment

Lost Items:

Carving Tools: A small satchel of uniquely sturdy carving tools. It likely belongs to someone who loves woodworking.

Sheathed Dagger: A wing-shaped dagger with a lion head on the pommel. Made of very sturdy material and the hilt is in-laid with the Crest of Fraldarius on one side and the Crest of Blaiddyd on the other.

God Statuette: A wooden icon representing a leonine deity of some kind. It probably belongs to a devout believer of a different faith.

#fe3h #fe3h oc #fe oc week #emyr artemi blaiddyd #character intro #blaiddyd bastards #my beloved bird #i always welcome questions about him forever and always

[camtot]

Some recent stuff I’ve made

#ceramics #pottery #my art #mug #gif #little beans #little beans adjacent

[thedepressexpress]

hi! when I get depressed it's really hard to make sure I'm eating as much as I should so here are some things I eat when I don't have the energy to do shit

these are depression meals so they are in no way balanced and an ideal diet, this is to get you through it. if you have depression, some of these on your shopping list are a good idea. I update this list whenever I remember something

I'm also assuming the only equipment you have is a bowl, spoon, sink, microwave and at most, a can opener. in no particular order:

granola bars and adjacent things like nuts, dried fruit, etc

frozen sausages: break them in half and microwave, if they're too cold to break you can run them under hot water or leave them out for a couple minutes, you need the break them or they might explode

canned corn: open and eat with a spoon, you can strain and microwave if you want it hot

cheese: put it in a bowl and microwave till it melts or till it's crispy, your choice but if you do just cheese don't use a porous bowl

instant noodles: don't use a pan, use a bowl, empty the contents in the bowl, add water till at least half of the noodle thing is submerged, microwave for 2-4 minutes, mix and eat

regular noodles: use a bigger bowl than you normally would, add some dry pasta to it and enough water to cover the pasta but not much more, it might overflow, and microwave for a few minutes more than the package says to boil, drain the water and put in whatever, condiment, sauce, cheese, sausages, frozen veggies, and microwave again, it's more time intensive but also more nutrients so

canned beans: you can eat as is if it comes in a sauce, but if you got the ones with the clear liquid you can strain and rinse and if you don't have a strainer, open the can just a little from the tab and open a faucet, let the water run into the can and adjust the position of the lid till the water can go in without any of the beans coming out, it'll dissolve the liquid and it'll flow out, leave it for a bit then shake it, turn it upside to drain, let it refill then leave it again, repeat till the water over flowing isn't that weird liquid

crackers/biscuits: keep a stash of biscuits that you can eat, bonus if you can eat them with milk or tea or coffee or juice

juice: buy your favorite and keep a bottle in the fridge or frozen if you suspect you're starting to spiral and might need it in a few hours

readymade meals: whenever you go to do your grocery shopping, buy just one premade meal

vegetables: keep a vegetable you like that you can eat raw like cucumbers or carrots

fruits: keep a fruit you know you can eat or you know you can drown in something else, for example I don't like apples but I can eat them if they're covered in peanut butter

sweets: you can keep a favorite hard candy to get yourself salivating idk for me if helps activate some hunger while getting rid of the painful part of being hungry

butters and spreads: you can find premade sandwich spread with chicken in them, or jams or spreads that are savory like peanut/almond/cashew butter or sweet like a chocolate/vanilla spread

rice: if you make rice and ever have some left over you can freeze it and eat it later, you can also do that with rice in a bag

tofu: you can eat it raw as long as you drain the liquid it comes with

condiments: almost all of these things can be improved or 'seasoned' with ketchup, mayo, mustard, ranch, tartar sauce, marinara, etc. it'll give some flavor and make it taste better but don't microwave sauces unless they're properly mixed with the food especially mayo based ones, they can get weird

frozen vegetables: any time you're using the microwave to make these things, throw in a handful of frozen vegetables and microwave for a little longer

cereal: pair cereal with foods like yogurt instead of milk, you can add chocolate drink powder to the yogurt before adding the cereal which is really nice, you can also make it directly in the yogurt container if it's small enough

electrolytes: you can make them a bottle using two dashes of salt (1/4 tsp), a 2second squeeze of a honey bottle (2 tsp) and some kind of juice for a better flavor

potatoes: stab them all around with a fork, microwave for about six minutes, turn it over then microwave again, keeping microwaving and turning till it's soft on the inside and you can eat it

order out: if you can afford to order food, order it, some tips to get the most out of what you order 1. order a family box of food to store in the fridge 2. when you microwave it, do it with some water in a glass with your bowl/food in the microwave

if opening the tab on a can is keeping you from eating, try this. it'll open the can, you can use a knife, the back of a spoon, etc.

if it keeps you from spiraling, it's worth doing. and if it's worth doing, it's worth doing poorly. eating something is better than eating nothing.

hope this helps, if you can, please add more things!

#actually mentally ill #actually bpd #actually cptsd #actually traumatized #hope this helps #food #spiralling #mental health advice #mental health hacks

[darkisrising]

what's ur fav meal to cook? i usually do stir fry or fajitas but my roomates are getting tired of those option and its my turn to cook dinner again lol

Ack! Okay so I actually try to opt out of cooking whenever possible 😅 I used to like it but then burnout brain got me so I stopped. But! When I'm trying to be a team player, I'll make Cuban-adjacent style black beans (I say that because it comes out nothing like my abuela used to make but I stopped caring a while back) :

saute onion and garlic in olive oil in a big pan until translucent, add three cans black beans (2 cans drained, one with water) when it's simmering cover with lid and bring down heat. Takes about 45? Ish? Minutes, but check it and stir every 20 min to make sure it's not burning on the bottom. It should have no more liquid, but not in a dried out way. It should be kind of creamy but not a paste. Then add some cumin and serve with white rice (Cuban approved version) or tortillas (NOT Cuban version but it's easier than messing with making rice so I usually do this. Maybe add some avocado to it)

If you want to really get into it, you can also make tostones with it:

green plantain bananas (bigger than regular bananas, with super thick peel), slice the peel off and take out plantain/banana inside, cut into inch thick rounds, put them in hot oil in a pan until both sides are a little yellow, take them out and stick on paper towels. With the bottom of a bowl or cup (something flat) smoosh them flat, put them back into oil until golden brown, put on paper towels and pat out extra oil, sprinkle with salt. Done.

Or if you want something not so oily, there's this recipe my husband has been into making lately, it's the weight watchers version of Arroz con Pollo, which is pretty easy and makes enough for leftovers over here.

Hope that helps! Let me know what you wind up doing for dinner!

#dark is thinking #ask box

[seenoversundown]

Sparrow Of the Dawn : Chapter 4

Sam Kiszka x Willa (Female OC) Warnings: Teasing (in the making fun of each other way), dark humor, subtle pining, cursing, mentions of drinking/alcohol, and a lot of clumsy girl behavior.

Word Count: 7.6k

Summary : Sam unfortunately finds himself in not so meet cute with Willa. Hopeful that he doesn't cross her path again; the world works in mysterious ways and not always in your favor.

Author's Note: Just wanted to take a second to leave some resources in regards to learning about and assisting those affected by the genocide in Palestine. There aren’t words strong enough to convey how devastating the loss is. I will leave a few resources I have found linked and always remember that we’re not free until Palestine is free. #Ceasefire #FreePalestine 🇵🇸

• Six Ways To Help

• Carrd Full of helpful Links and Resources

• Daily Click!

Gives You Hell - All American Rejects “When you see my face, hope it gives you hell, gives you hell.”

I feel like I could fight God when my alarm clock goes off in the morning and my first thought is that I'll have to see Sam all day. Oh, great ruler of the Cosmos, please grant me the strength to get through this day. So mote it be. 

 I slither out of bed like the morning gremlin I am, pull on my robe, and head out to the kitchen, where I know Quinn is already waiting. 

Quinn and I developed this cute morning routine back in college, where we met. We attended SCAD together and were lucky enough that we got along so well, both being art majors. Them in Art History and me in Photography. We used to cross the campus early enough to beat the lines, almost regretfully. We’re not exactly the greatest of morning people. I’d get the drinks, though, and they get the food. Only back then, it was just them assembling the breakfast sandwiches in the cafeteria while I tried to make the instant coffee drinkable. These days, it’s homemade lattes and skillfully grilled sandwiches. A vast improvement from our younger days. 

“Good morning, Willard,” They beam at me through heavily hooded eyes, already pulling out a pan.

“Morning,” comes out of my mouth in a choppy groan.

“Breakfast sammies?” They wiggle the pan a little. 

“Don’t!” I hold up my finger, “That is a banned word in this house.” I sit down on one of the stools at our island and place my head in my hands. 

“Breakfast?” they inquire. 

“No, Sammy.”

“Okayyyy.. Do you want a breakfast ‘he-who-shall-not-be-named?” they let out a chuckle. 

“HA HA, very funny,” I roll my eyes, “- but yes, please.” 

I make my way to the espresso machine, grabbing the portafilter and grinding up some fresh beans. I tamp down the grinds and place them back in their rightful spot before pressing the button to queue up the process. Repeating for Quinn’s second shot. Quinn is the complete opposite of basic in every aspect except their coffee order. A Vanilla Oat Milk latte, every time. I make it with extra love because that’s how it should be made. I quickly move on to my latte, only slightly adjacent to basic with toasted marshmallow flavoring instead. 

Finishing at roughly the same time we trade specialties and they say “Okay, all wrapped and ready to go when you are.”

“No, I have the time to sit and eat with you Quinny the Pooh, so that’s what I’m going to do.” I smile and make my way to the island in our kitchen. I prop up on my same stool and unwrap my sandwich. God, this looks good. If they weren’t an art teacher, they could hack it as a chef. 

Taking the first bite and rolling my eyes in the back of my head, “Good GOD, Quinn, you have outdone yourself again.”

“Thank you, Thank you. So tell me, how prepared are you to see Childish Sambino today?”

The glare I send them over my sandwich is deadly. “Do you have to talk about him?”

“We could talk about his mouth instead,” sending me a sideways glance. 

“Oh, would you look at that,” I glance down at my bare wrist as if it contained the most interesting watch. “I’m actually running late. I need to get ready for work.” I set my sandwich back down on the paper and rewrap it to take it to go. 

“Have a good day. Make good choices because we just paid rent and I don’t have bail money,” They laugh maniacally. I send them a snarky glare back before shutting my bedroom door behind me. 

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When I make it to the Portland Press Herald office, I open the door, and I’m greeted with the sweet face of an older woman working the desk. Thank god it’s not another Daisy. I’d rather jump off the building than have to watch Sam flirt with another girl all day. 

She leads me through the hallways until we reach a set of cubicles in the back corner.

 “Alright, this one is yours,” She points to the closest cubicle. “And this one,” she points to the cubicle diagonally across from it. “Is Samuel’s. I’ll send him over when he gets here and you can point it out to him if he gets lost.” Well, at least I won’t have to look directly at him. 

I start unloading my belongings onto my new desk and trying to arrange them perfectly. When Sam makes his appearance, he rounds the corner looking so good it's painful. The slim, dark blue slacks on his legs just hit the tops of his black Chelsea boots. A mixed red and blue sweater makes home on his chest, don’t think about his chest, with a navy linen winter jacket over top. God, he looks good. Annoying. No man my age looks like that let alone knows how to actually dress themselves. 

When I come to my senses, he’s standing expectantly next to my desk. Looking at me like he’s waiting for my reply to a question I haven’t heard him ask. Not willing to give in and appear like I’ve just been thinking about how hot this man I hate is, I dodge. 

I point to the clock reading 7:58 am, “Cutting it a little close, huh, Sammy boy.”

“It might not have been so close if you were sitting here staring at me like I’m a piece of meat.” He chides. Internally, I cringe. Yep, I was definitely not subtle. “I had car troubles,” He mumbles in a low tone, “Can you just show me which desk I’m supposed to sit at.” I wave my arm over toward his desk, and he walks away to get settled in his own space. Far away from me.. Well, okay, it's not that far, but it's far enough for me. 

He’s in a monumentally bad mood this morning, and after a while the sighs of frustration he's letting out start to tick me off. Who breathes that loudly on a normal day? We’re stuck inside the building researching things until we have an event or idea to even photograph, which is bad enough without the sound of his mouth. I just hope we can get it together sooner rather than later. The faster we find a subject matter, the more time we have to capture it. I hear another loud sigh. 

“Could you be any louder, Sam? All I can hear is your huffing?” I stand to get him in my eyeline over the divider. Big mistake. He’s wearing glasses now? I didn’t know he wore glasses. It should be illegal, to be honest, for him to look that good. 

“I’m just existing, Willa. Sorry that my existence annoys you.” He pauses, “Actually, I’m not sorry at all. I take great pleasure in the fact that my mere presence sends you into a fit of rage.” He leans back in his chair, crossing his arms with a cocky smile. 

  Oh dear god, I definitely didn't prepare for this, this morning.

“This is not a fit of rage.” I sit back down calmly. Nope, not entertaining this today.

After a few minutes, it’s Sam’s turn to stand. If I lift my head, then I have to talk to him, so I stare at my computer screen where I’m currently researching different parks in the area. He clears his throat, and I don’t move. I will not be beckoned by his antics. He clears his throat louder this time. 

“Yes, Samuel.” I finally stop and clasp my hands together, annoyed.

“When did that cafe open up? The new down the road?”

“A couple months ago. Why? Are you going to buy me a coffee to make up for annoying me this morning?” A pleasantly sarcastic smile makes its way to my lips.

“HAH, you wish. No, I thought it could be something to check out for the project.”

“I would hardly call that cafe something that is notable about Maine. It just opened.” 

Clearly offended, he states, “Alright, let’s hear your big idea then?”

Sighing heavily, “I know I opened the dialogue here with you Sam, but I’ve suddenly realized that I am far too under-caffeinated to continue to be annoyed by you.”

“Well,” he laughs a little, adding fuel to the fire that is my irritation, “Aren’t you just a breath of vile air this morning.” he snarks.

“I might be more pleasant if your voice wasn’t so grating.” I shoot back. If tension were a physical entity in this moment, someone would be slicing it like a block of cheese being prepped for a charcuterie board. My stomach grumbles slightly. Oh, I am not going to let this man ruin charcuterie boards for me just because I am hangry. 

“Shhhh,” someone a few isles extends their distaste for our conversation. 

“See, look at what you’ve done.” 

“Oh, what I’ve done. I didn’t realize I was talking to myself here.” He defends.

I sit back down in a huff. I cannot believe I have to spend the next few days with this man. A fact that makes it very hard not to get increasingly frustrated by the task at hand. It's March, there’s not a whole lot going on in the city and instead of a partner who is easy to collaborate with, I'm stuck with him. 

Just as I get ready to do more digging, I get an email. 

Samuel F. Kiszka shared a document with you.

I wonder what the F stands for. I click the link. Compelled by my own nonsense, I sing in my head ‘Wheezy F baby and the F is for front door.’  

The document is titled ‘Ideas’ and a singular sentence is typed.

Since you can’t stand the sound of my voice and we can’t talk without getting heavily shushed by Susan B. NoseyPants, does this work?

Why is this simultaneously endearing and aggravating? Because yes, yes, it does work.

We take the time over what feels like a few hours bouncing ideas back and forth, and nothing seems to land with either of us. 

Sam: Museums, theaters, ect, ect we even have Funtown for the kids?

Me: You want to lead with Funtown? Palace Playland is better AND by the beach even? If you don’t believe in it, neither will the people at the newspaper.

Sam: I’m not even going to entertain that argument because Palace Playland is definitely NOT better. Have you ever been on the Excalibur?

We both stare at the document, watching the line blink on the screen when the banter is no longer fun. He stands suddenly. “I’m hungry.” He states plainly. “It's almost lunchtime.”

“Astute observation, Samuel. Should we promote you to Captain Obvious?”

“You’re actually the funniest person I’ve ever met, you know. No. I know a place, you and I are going to go get lunch.” He puts on his coat and grabs his bag walking over to my side of the desks. 

“We are? When did I agree to that?” skepticism heavy in my tone.

“Just now.” The manner in which he speaks matter-of-factly almost has me giving in instantly. Almost. “We need to get out of these little satanic cubes of torture and do some brainstorming. But we need brain food. I’m hungry. You’re hungry. We’re going, but you have to drive.”

“How do you know I’m hungry?”

“I’ve heard your stomach growling for over an hour.”

“Fine.” I concede. “But you’re paying.” I grab my heavy cardigan, slipping it on, and then grabbing my purse.

“That’s the spirit.” He says jovially, wrapping his arm around my shoulders. I try not to think too hard about the grip he has on me as we make our way downstairs.

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The atmosphere of the restaurant he picked, “La Fromage”, is almost a bit uppity. How stuck up can you really be if you name your restaurant literally just ‘the cheese’. The lighting is low, even for the daytime, despite the two main windows in the front. The antique sconces create a nice, warm ambiance. It's a small room with bar seating and a few booths, which is where we take up residence right next to one of the windows. We’re tucked away in the corner but not too close to the front door. I slide into the booth against the wall while Sam takes the chair nearest to the walkway. 

“This place looks nice. I’ve never heard of it before. How’d you find it?” I’d be a fool to think he hasn't taken a girl here on a date before. He's young and attractive. A fact I would never admit out loud because it would just inflate his already massive ego. I’m sure he doesn’t have a problem dating, something I clearly can’t relate to. He did seem to hit it off with Daisy. I imagine this place in the evening; with the street lights coming in through the windows mixing with the amber lighting, it definitely sets a romantic tone. Much different than the tone of an afternoon in the middle of a work week. It would be lovely to come here on a date instead of a bar.

“They have a location in Boston, not far from where I went to school. I heard they opened a location up here not too long ago, but I haven’t come by yet. This seemed like the perfect opportunity.” He picks up the menu, giving it a once over before settling on the alcoholic portion. So he hasn’t been here on a date.. Yet. Ugh. Stop it. “You should get a glass of wine or something.” Not bothering to glance up at me. 

“I’m driving, Sam,” I state plainly. 

“If one glass of wine gets you drunk enough to not be able to drive you have other things to worry about,” he looks almost concerned for a moment before his face completely shifts. “Is that why you spilled your drink all over your date the other night?”

God, must I relive this? Why is he bringing it up? As if he has no idea it was his fault. “Sam, you snuck up behind me and scared me half to death. I jumped, it tipped. That’s it.” 

“If that’s your story.” The Cheshire cat smile painted on his lips looks almost good enough to smack. With my hand. Definitely my hand. 

I’m about to make a case for myself when the waiter approaches. 

“Afternoon, I’m Hunter. I'll be taking care of you today.” He looks over at me and winks. .. okay??? “Can I start you off with something to drink?”

Sam answers before my mouth even opens. “We’ll have two glasses of the 19 crimes red, please.” Why is he ordering for me? Hunter glances over at me like he’s trying to get a read on me. I realize then that my mouth is hung open slightly in disbelief. 

“Is that okay with you?” Hunter asks me. Sam scoffs. 

“Uh yes, yes, that’s fine.” I gain my composure and continue. “I’ll just also have a glass of water with no lemon, please. Thank you.” And with that, he turns and walks away. I don’t say anything. I just stare at Sam. He’s still gazing at his menu, brow furrowed a bit like he's mulling through his choices and can’t figure out what sounds good.

“19 crimes.” I chime. “Sounds devious. Did you commit all 19 by yourself? Or are you trying to drag me with you now?” 

He laughs. “You know you have to look at the menu in order to find something to eat, Willa.” The sound of my name on his tongue is jarring. Again, he’s not looking at me. I take his advice hastily grabbing my menu, peering at him over the top. There’s a smirk on his face. What is his deal? 

Hunter appears with our wine and my water with a lemon. Not wanting to create a fuss over a lemon I can very easily remove, I just say thank you when he sets it down on the oakwood table. 

“She asked for water without a lemon,” Sam’s face is serious; I sit there, horrified at the inconvenience to the waiter.  

“Oh, it's fine, really. Don’t-” he cuts my protest short, and I fidget, tucking my hair behind my ears.

“You asked for water with no lemon, Willa. This isn’t what you asked for.” Hunter takes the glass from his hand. When he turns and heads toward the kitchen, I whisper, “You didn’t have to do that, Sam. It’s not a big deal. Plus, that was kind of rude.”

“It’s not rude to expect to get what you asked for. You wanted water with no lemon, so you’ll get water with no lemon.” He says with finality. Why is that… attractive? I think he mistakes my stare as distaste for his commentary and quickly follows it up with, “If it makes you feel better, I’ll make sure to tip him well.” He shrugs a little.

I exhale heavily through my nose and change the subject, “What are you gonna get to eat?”

“The Gnocchi alla Sorrentini. What about you?”

“I was thinking of the Saffron Risotto aux Champignons. Have you tried it?” My mind drifts back to how many times he’s probably been to the other location and with whom. Wondering how many of these dishes he’s tried or if the menu is different there. How many glasses of wine he’s had or shared. 

“I have. It’s my favorite dish here. It’s very good,” When he flashes me a small, slightly lopsided smile, my heart squeezes in my chest. “I think you’ll like it.” 

We place our orders when Hunter comes back with my corrected water. He doesn’t make eye contact with Sam, but Sam looks directly at him when he tells him what he wants. There’s an obvious confidence about him that I like and something under the surface that feels almost like a challenge. Daring Hunter to look at him to know he has the upper hand on.. what, I can't figure out. Is this just some weird macho alpha male thing? I feel like one of them might start peeing on the floor to mark their territory in a minute. 

I tell Hunter my order and then switch my gaze to the window. Something I’ve always loved about Maine is the water. Across the street, back behind the sidewalk, is a relatively short dock. You can walk down it and see some of the boats lined up. There aren’t many since the area is narrow, but you can see out toward the river. Sometimes, you can see people in smaller fast boats; other times, it's the larger fishing boats. I once took a walk down that dock with an out-of-town friend of mine, and there was a lone man on his fishing boat throwing some lobsters back into the river. He offered to let us hold one for a photo which absolutely tickled my friend pink.

Hunter brings our food out and disappears without any other commentary. I’m not sure I could handle another moment of ‘big men puff out chest be intimidating’ behavior. I take a bite of the risotto, which tastes as good as it looks. God, I’m going to have to take Quinn here. They'd absolutely love it.

My thoughts are interrupted when a bird perched on the ledge just at the edge of the window catches my eye. And suddenly..

“Sam.” My eyes were fixated on the bird. He hums. “Do you .. hike?” Unsure if he’s an outdoorsy kind of guy, given how well he dresses himself.

“Yeah, all the time, why?”

“Maine is the pine tree state.” He sends me another mhm, not fully following my thought, “You know what one of my favorite things to shoot on hikes is?” I point toward the bird in the window, not giving him a chance to respond.

 “Nature. Literally, Maine is full of it. Like Acadia National Park? ‘Bah habah’” I say, mocking the more northern pronunciation of Bar Harbor. 

Finally, he reaches me at the mental finish line, “Nature! Birds, Trees, Parks, Woods.. No, you’re right? That’s what makes Maine, Maine.”

“Okay, but also beyond this little bird in the window, there’s the dock. Maine is incredibly coastal, lobsters and allathat. We could do both. Like the duality of the State. Woods and Water.” 

“Woods and water.” He repeats, taking a bite of his gnocchi. “Actually, you know what else could be a good idea? Old and New.”

“Old and new? What do you mean?”

“Digital and Print. I have a bunch of old film cameras. I kind of collect them,” a slight rosy tint covers his cheeks. “We could take an assortment of both digital and film photos and present both to the editors.”

“Sam, that's brilliant!” It takes us approximately three seconds to realize in my excitement, I’ve grabbed his hand that was laid on the table. We both pull away at the same time.

He clears his throat, “If you wanted, when we’re done, we could drive to my apartment, and we can take a look at the cameras I have and then figure out a plan.”

“Yeah, that sounds great,” my meal suddenly becoming the most interesting thing to look at. 

After a small bit of silence, Hunter comes back with our checks. Yep, checks. Plural. Sam noticeably shifts in his seat. He is apparently incredibly put off by this, and he bites out, “Just one check will do, Heath.”

“It’s Hunter.” He corrects, unamused, as he grabs the checks.

“Sure.” is all Sam says. 

I laugh. I giggle, actually. Profusely. The situation at hand is far too entertaining to hold it in any longer. 

“What?” Sam grills me.

“Heath! You know his name is Hunter.” I try to cover my giggle with my hand. 

“I do, but I had to knock him down a peg. Assuming that I’d make you pay for your food?” he scoffs. 

“I am not breaking up a fight, so reel it in, buddy.” I shake my head.

 Hunter arrives with a corrected, singular check, sending us off with a ‘have a very pleasant day.’ Probably trying to play up a last-ditch effort of hospitality to ensure a decent tip still. Sam’s brow furrows as he looks over the check, he sets it down and runs his hand through his hair. No man should have hair that beautiful. My hair isn't even that beautiful. He starts to furiously pat himself down. 

“I.. think I left my wallet in the office.” Oh great. Wonderful. Annoys me all morning, cons me into driving, and now I have to pay. 

He winks at me, “Just kidding.” Tucking a few bills into the check holder and standing. What’s with everyone winking at me?

“Asshole.” I roll my eyes, grab my jacket, and slide out of the booth. As I stand, my foot catches on the leg of the table, and I slip. Sam rushes over to steady me upright back on my feet. 

“Wow, you really are a cheap date, huh?” he jests. I try not to think about that too hard. “You sure you’re okay to drive?”

“I’m fine. My foot got caught, okay? I am not drunk. It was one glass.”

“Sounds like something a drunk person would say.” His laugh is infectious, and I hate it. It's very hard to stay annoyed at someone who laughs like they’re high on edibles all the time. But not in a Beavis and Butthead kind of way, in a carefree kind of way.

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The drive to Sam’s apartment is short; he lives closer than he made it seem which makes it easy. What is not easy, however, is the fact that there's off-street parking. I end up parking my Silver Honda CRV down the road a little by a very creepy looking ally, and we make the short walk back to his apartment. He lives on the second floor, so we at least avoid being locked in an elevator again and just take the stairs. 

“Soo, I wasn’t expecting company, so don’t expect it to be too clean. And I should also warn you…”

“Warn me about what,” I say nervously. He opens the door in lieu of a response, and one of the largest dogs I’ve ever seen comes skidding across the floor. The dog jumps on Sam as he gently coos, “Woah down girl, down.” He scratches her behind the ears and continues his adoration. “How’s my girl today, huh? Did you miss me? Daddy missed you so much while he was gone.” Oh.

I step into the apartment and close the door behind me, coming into her view. She switches gears and suddenly jumps at me with full force. Given her size, and me being the least graceful person on the planet. I almost fall on my ass. 

“Op,” I blow a puff of air toward my nose, trying to get some of her hair out of the way. When I steady myself on two solid feet, thank you very much, I ask, “And what’s your name, pretty girl? I didn’t know you had a dog.”

“There’s a lot of things you don’t know about me. It’s Penelope, by the way.” Sam replies. “Or Duchess, or Penny, Penny girl. Whichever you prefer.”

“Penelope is a pretty name. You hear that? Pretty name for a pretty girl huh?” I coo in a slight baby voice. She is a gorgeous dog even if she is large. Her coat is incredibly soft. It's covered in black and brown with white all down her belly and just a bit on her nose.

“You know you can come in, right? You don’t have to stand by the door?” He waves me in. 

“Uhm, actually. I have to use the bathroom, do you mind?” I hate this part. The awkward, I don't know you that well, and now we're talking about bodily functions, part of getting to know someone. 

“Yeah, but it's actually through my bedroom.” He points to the doorway behind me. “First door is my closet, the second door is the bathroom.”

I walk through the doorway and take in my surroundings. Sam’s room is different than I expected and somehow exactly like I expected it to be. Not that I’ve pictured it, because I definitely have not. He has a king-sized bed with boring gray sheets. Typical. His deep wood nightstand sits just below one of 2 windows in his room, both without curtains. It’s pretty bare just an alarm clock, a lamp, and a charging pad for his phone. He has a few small plants in the window, which I should have expected given there’s a handful of plants in his kitchen. The walls are bare, apart from the few prints above his bed that’s sat on a frame with no headboard. I wonder if they’re his photos? He has a dresser that matches his nightstand and a TV on top with a gaming console. A very standard boy room apart from the few totes of his film strips that hang around. I suddenly realize I’ve been lingering too long in a space that isn’t mine, and I make my way to the bathroom, but not before I accidentally open his closet. Wow, he has a lot of clothes? I start to finger my way through the various fabrics. A man with a sense of style, so uncommon for this area. I close the closet door and choose the right door this time. 

I rinse my hands under the warm faucet, letting my eyes close, and the water start to warm me. This is going to be fine. I look at myself in the mirror. It's going to be fine. The project will be fine. You and Sam will get along… eventually. You’ll get the job and you’ll never have to talk to him again. It’ll be fine. If I say the words enough, maybe I’ll start to believe them. I dry my hands off and exit the bathroom with a silent wish that I took less time than it feels like I did. 

I pop my head back into the kitchen area where I first walked in, but I don’t see him.. Or Penelope. I take small, cautious steps toward what I assume is the living room. Just as I’m about to enter, I run full-bodied into Sam, causing my forehead to bounce right off his collarbone. A mixture of frustrated sounds escapes the two of us before he plants both his large hands on my shoulders and steps an arm’s length away from me. I rub at the pain between my eyes. Ouch.

“I thought you got lost for a minute.”

“No I just.. Didn’t know where you were. I wasn’t trying to invade your space.”

“Little late for that, isn’t it,” he gestures a hand between us, referring to our closeness. “Plus, there are only so many rooms, Willa. You would have found me eventually.” I hate it when he says my name. He turns and walks farther into the room calling after me, “You comin?”

I enter the room and it’s actually fairly large for it being in the city. Good, decent-sized apartments are hard to find here. There’s a half-brick wall behind the orange couch. The large windows set above it let in a ton of light but somehow don’t reflect off the TV screen sitting opposite it. He has records stored in a few different places and an old-style record player. A Fender Bass guitar and a small amp sit in the corner. I didn't know he could play an instrument. A small standing desk in the corner where his laptop sits among various other papers and notebooks. And to the left, there's a beautiful wall of shelves set up with a handful of film cameras. All old, each serving a unique purpose. It’s heaven for a person like me. I don't know why I've never thought to collect film cameras before. 

“Wow.” It comes out of my mouth barely above a whisper.

“I know. It's my favorite part of my house.” He’s proud. And he should be. I can feel the weight of his eyes on me, studying my reaction.

“Where did you get them all?” I question, reaching to touch one before I pull my hand back. It would be rude to just touch something so delicate and important, but the desire in me is burning. 

“Flea markets and vintage shops. Ebay. I even bought one off Etsy, oddly enough.” 

The anticipation is killing me, and I start to shift anxiously on my feet. I feel like a child at a candy store waiting for permission to let loose and stock my bag full. I’m sure from the outside I look like a child at a candy store, but I don’t care. If Sam didn’t annoy me so much, I might try to con my way into being friends with him just so I can test each one out. Every old camera has its own quirks it has developed over the years. Like it curated its own personality, stealing bits from each person that has held it. It’s a fun experience to learn a camera. 

“Go ahead.” he stifles his chuckle. 

I run my fingers over the few cameras on the bottom shelf.  He has a few different cameras from a few different decades, definitely older than both of us combined. I settle on a ‘1981 vintage Kiev camera Jupiter’; it doesn't shoot in 35mm like most standard film cameras. It shoots in 8m, creating a wider shot, not quite like today's panorama views. 

“I love that one. She creates these really beautiful wide shots. You gotta make sure you press quick and hard, though, or you won’t actually capture the photo.” He steps behind me and places his hand on mine, tilting the camera upwards before pointing at the button he’s referencing. His hands are so warm. When I inhale to disrupt my own thoughts, my back touches his chest. His chest is warm, too. Oh God. It's too warm in here. I step forward and turn around, facing him again. 

“She’s beautiful. I think I’ll go with this one. Thank you, Sam.” I dare to look at his coffee-colored eyes. “I know lending out something this special is a big deal. So thank you.”

“Just be careful. Josephine was a hard find." He grabs the camera from my hand and walks over to the couch where his camera bag is, slipping it inside.

“Josephine?” I question, “Do you.. name all your cameras?”

“Don’t judge me, okay. You’re telling me you don’t name yours? What about your car huh?” Oh, he’s got me there.

“I.. have named every car I’ve ever had.” I raise my hands in defeat and bow my head in amusement. 

“Alright then. Take your judgy pants off and leave 'em at home.”

“Hey, aren’t you going to grab one?” avoiding the previous comment entirely. 

“Nah, I always have my Olympus on me. I shoot on film any chance I can get.” He picks up his bag and slides it back on his shoulder. 

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Back in my car and buckling our seat belts, he says, “So I was thinking about the woods and water idea, and maybe we can shoot in town to save time and then, uhm, tomorrow.. uhh, if you’re free, we could do the woods stuff.” He seems nervous, and I can’t quite place my finger on why. I agree, placing my car in reverse and backing onto the main road. 

“I know of a nice place we can go… For tomorrow, I mean.”

“Should I be concerned you’re going to murder me in the woods?”

“I would never do that.”

“Sounds like something a murderer would say to a potential victim.” I side-eye him before returning my gaze to the road. “Don’t try anything, I most definitely will be bringing pepper spray tomorrow.”

“Don’t worry, sweetheart. I’m on sabbatical. Even serial killers need a break.” He flashes me a cocky smile and winks at me once again. The next person who winks at me is going to end up with their eyeball on a skewer. I SWEAR.

“Okay, now we're taking separate cars. That is, if you can even make it.”

“How dare you talk about Edith like that.” Raising his eyebrows in offense. “She is a gem and has been through a lot. She just needs TLC is all.”

“Edith? Josephine? What is this, the 1940s?” 

“Hey! Edith and Josephine are great names. They’re vintage– my truck is older than I am, so it makes sense.” He shrugs. “What’s your car's name, huh?”

“Jon Bon Silver Fox.” I try not to smile at the ridiculousness of it, but it’s sentimental, sort of. And it makes me laugh.

“Jon Bon… Silver Fox..” repeating my words slowly. “Like Jon Bon Jovi?”

“Like Jon Bon Jovi. My mom loved him when I was growing up so she always had his music playing, I grew up loving him too. Nowadays he's a silver fox, my car is silver, therefore: Jon Bon Silver Fox.”

“You would like mom-rock,” we both laugh, and I send him a small eye-roll to follow. 

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After finding another off-street parking spot, god, I hate Portland. We have a small huddle before deciding to split up and see what we can find. Our version of splitting up is just heading the same way down the road and shooting on opposite sides of the sidewalk, but it works. 

As annoying as the parking situation is in this city, it's absolutely beautiful here. Every building is made up of tattered red bricks because everything in this city is old. Old, but beautiful. There’s a history here, every spot has a story. Every small restaurant is owned by someone's grandfather or great-grandfather and passed down through generations. Sidewalks with initials carved into them, we even have our own version of the ‘love locks’. 

The evening breathes a different light, though. It’s painted with character right down to the cobblestone streets the drunk girls wobble down during the summer nights. The “cobble wobble” will never not be funny to me, especially since I’ve been that girl a time or two. 

I spot a Song Sparrow; at least I think that’s the correct bird. It's a small little thing with a tan body and dark brown spots, and it's absolutely beautiful. I crouch down, trying to make myself small so he doesn’t get scared and fly away. Aiming for a shot on the vintage camera I’ve borrowed from Sam, I realize the view is far too wide for what I need. 

“Sam!” I whisper-shout, looking around for him. When I don’t see him I call his name again a little louder. He pops his head up from behind a bush and I frantically wave him over pressing a finger to my lips to quiet him. He kneels down behind me. 

“I need this,” I say, grabbing his camera, still attached to his neck by his camera strap. He leans into me further as I pull the viewfinder close to my eye. I adjust the settings as quickly as I can so I don’t miss it.

He's far too close to my ear when he whispers to me, “I can take it off, you know?” A shiver runs down my back from the heat of his breath. Focus, Willa. 

“There’s no time. I don’t want him to fly away,” I click a couple times, and he shifts on his feet, crinkling whatever wrapper is trapped between his shoe and the pavement. 

“Shhhh,” I reach my hand across my body and grab his face blindly, my eye still glued to the camera. “Don't. Move.” I release him. One more click, and I’m certain I’ve got a good shot. 

“Did you get it?” He whispers in my ear again. I turn to face him, and he is so close to me. I follow his eyes as they meet mine and drop down to my lips. Oh, no.

I clear my throat, “Yeah, I think I did. Uhm,” I squeeze my lids shut and pause, trying to center myself. We both rush to stand at the same time. In the flurry of limbs, I seem to trip over my own foot, losing my balance completely. Sam lunges toward me but isn’t quick enough. I have no idea how I am the least graceful person alive. I grab the antique camera around my neck and on my way to the ground and try my best to hold it in the air. My ass takes all the damage in the fall but the camera remains perfectly intact. I breathe a sigh of relief, if Josephine was hard to find once, she'd be hard to find twice. 

“Jesus christ, Willa,” he hurries to my side. His next words don’t match the concern on his face. “You have to be more careful. You could have broken something!” He scolds me. His camera? That’s what he's worried about? I look down at the palm on my left hand, it's scuffed and bleeding slightly. Small rocks embedded in my skin. My ass is definitely going to have a bruise.

“Don’t worry, Sunshine. Your camera is fine,” I roll my eyes and brush myself off before standing. I hiss as my hand starts to throb. “Ah fuck” I mutter under my breath, waving my hand, trying to shake off the pain. 

“No..” a prolonged deep sigh escapes his lips. “Never mind, just be more careful,” reiterating his initial point. 

“Yeah, Got it.” I snap. Annoyance settles through me to my core once again. A constant state of being when I’m around him. Does he really think I’d be the type of person to let his shit break? “No, you know what. You always have some slick comments to say. Like you might just spontaneously combust if the world doesn’t hear your shitty commentary. Why are you always a jerk?”

“Telling you to be careful, is me being a jerk?” He defends.

“I wouldn’t let anything happen to your camera, Sam. So, please, can you not think I’m an idiot for five seconds?” I huff out.

“I don’t think you’re an idiot? I think you’re a klutz and definitely way too cranky for your own good, but I definitely don’t think you’re stupid.” Sounding slightly confused. For the love of god, why is he confused? 

“Whatever, it doesn’t matter. Can we go? I got what I needed, and I definitely don’t want to look at you anymore.” I start to head back toward my car. 

“I hope it gives you hell when you do, Birdie.” he follows in my footsteps. Birdie? What the hell is that?

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I somehow have found myself back at the Caravel Tavern. I say somehow but what I really mean is Quinn forced me, and I really can never say no to them. They know that and pull the ‘I’m your best friend’ card constantly. They’re lucky I love them so much.

“I cannot believe you made me come back here.” I shrink in my seat, trying to appear as small as possible. We’re sitting toward the back but not entirely in the corner. I face the door so I can see most of the bar to try and prevent someone from sneaking up on me. A thing that I learned does not actually work when it comes to this place. 

“Please, you act like I'm not at all nosy and don’t want to see the face of the man who keeps you lying awake at night.” Quinn teases.

“I do not lie awake at night. He just annoys me every waking moment of every waking day that I have to interact with him. Did I tell you he wore glasses today? It’s bad enough that he knows how to dress himself, but then to wear glasses? It made his face extra punchable.”

“Babes, that’s called cuteness aggression.”

“No, Absolutely not. He’s annoying, not cute. He also started calling me Birdie today. No idea why. Birdie??” In the middle of my defense, I notice Quinn’s eyes go wide and then the bartender I haven’t met yet appears from behind me, effectively scaring me. What is it with this place?

“Welcome, Welcome!” he says, as cheerful as if sunshine itself had manifested in our presence.

“Is it written in the manual as a requirement that you sneak up behind your guests and scare them?” I inquire. 

“Ahh yes, actually. It's in the section of the manual right next to ‘How to deal with cheeky customers’,” He throws me an equally cheeky side eye and a smile. 

“Ya know, I like you. At least one of you can grow a mustache around here.”

“I’m not Employee of the Month for nothing. Be on the lookout for a framed photo of yours truly on the wall over there.” He makes a small gesture toward the bathrooms. 

“So what, can I get you started with today?” At least one person who works here is funny. He’s charming in a way that Sam wishes he was. Effortlessly so. He’s not cocky or arrogant, he’s just funny and warm. Warm in a way that if all the people of the world were like that, it would be a better place. He takes our orders, making us laugh through the whole interaction, which is a nice change of pace from the last few days. He pauses a moment before he leaves and his gaze lingers on Quinn a bit. Interesting.

“I think he thinks you’re cute, Q,” I whisper to them like a gossiping old bitty. 

“He’s related to the owner.” They tell me, whispering back.  

“Jesus Christ, there’s three of them?”

“Three of them?”

“Yeah, the one who can’t grow a mustache owns the bar, and Sam is his brother. If this one is related to the owner too, then they’re all brothers.” I pause.

 “Wait, how do you know he’s related to the owner?” I look over toward the bar and accidentally make eye contact with Sam. “Oh god.” I whisper, “That’s him. Quinn, don’t look, he's coming over here.”

“What happened to not wanting to look at me? Change your mind and come to gaze at my devilish handsomeness?” Sam exudes cockiness from every orifice. What a tool. 

“Devilish, yes. Handsome, debatable. I came for a drink. Had to unwind after dealing with the world's worst coworker today.” I flutter my eyelashes and throw him a sarcastic smile. 

“Yeah, that Susan is an uptight bitch, huh?” He takes notice of Quinn, looking them up and down in their striped, earth-toned sweater and mocha-colored overalls. Their hair in their signature pixie cut curls. 

“And who is this?” He asks while maintaining his gaze on Quinn. 

“Uh, Sam, this is my roommate, Quinn. Quinn, this is my project partner, Sam.” He reaches out to shake their hand, which they return apprehensively.

“Birdie, you didn’t tell me your roommate was hot.” I would pay money to have had someone record this interaction because Quinn’s face is priceless. Maybe now they understand the hell I go through.

The third brother appears from out behind Sam, then in the sneaky way they all seem to have perfected. 

“OKAY.” He says loudly, clamping his hand on Sam’s shoulder. “Don’t you have some shit to take care of? Like your job.” Sam starts to try, and pull his shoulder away. By the grimace he’s making, he has a tight grip on his brother. Sam breaks free and rubs at his shoulder. 

“Ow, Josh,” He says, not low enough to escape my ears. What a baby. I wonder if he’ll complain about that, too. Probably. 

“So, sorry about him. He doesn’t get out much. He acts a bit rabid when he sees real people.” Josh pads off to return to his other duties. 

“Do you see what I mean? He’s intolerable.”

“Absolutely, completely intolerable.”

“Thank you.” 

“No, you’re right, Wilson. Sam IS cute.” They say a bit too loud for my taste. “Shhhhh. I never said that!” I look around frantically to see if any of the brothers are within earshot and regretfully notice a smirk on Sam’s lips. Curse Quinn and their antics.

<- Chapter Three Chapter Five

Masterpost | Taglist

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(I don't know what happened last week with the tags I double checked this week 😅)

@gvfsstardust @myleftsock @mindastreamofcolours @imleavingyoufornewyork @dont-go-home-without-me@literal-dead-leaf, @lizzys-sunflower @threadofstars @mackalah @klarxtr @ourlovesdesire, @writingcold @edgingthedarkness @takenbythemadness @i-love-gvf @ladywhimsymoon @earthgrlsreasy @peaceloveunitygvf, @violet-hayes @anythingforjtk

#gvf #greta van fleet #greta van fic #greta van fluff #gvf fic #sam kiszka fanfiction #sammy gvf #sam kiszka #sammy kiszka #sam gvf #sam kiszka gvf #sam kiskza #gvf fanfiction #sam x willa #jake gvf #josh gvf #danny gvf #greta van fleet fan fiction #greta van smut #greta van fleet smut #greta van angst #greta van rom com #gvf rom com #imagine gvf but rom coms #romance #SOTD #the caravel tavern series #sparrow sam #sam x reader #sam kiszka smut

[neonponders]

Part 8 for @wrecked-fuse ‘s pocketverse 🌹🌹

~ Part 7 + ART!!! ~

~ on ao3 ~

• • •

Billy could not claim to have ever hung out at the Harrington residence. He had moved to Hawkins after Steve removed his crown and all interest in being Hawkins’ party king.

So the circumstances of walking into Steve’s house with two voices yell-singing out of a shoebox were not what Billy would have expected.

“Okay, little dudes. It’s food time,” Steve announced on his way to the kitchen.

Robin collapsed right onto the couch and turned the television on. Unsure what else to do with himself, Billy sat on the loveseat adjacent to the other couch. Then he asked, “Is it a good idea to have them in the kitchen?”

Robin answered, “They like having tasks. Little B, especially. Getting him to sit still is like a magic trick.”

Her gaze swept up with Billy standing to join Steve in the kitchen. “You antsy?”

He smiled venomously. “I think it’s rational to not trust anyone with a mini me.”

Her eyes rolled but her voice remained understanding. “If anyone’s capable of taking care of those little guys, it’s Steve. But by all means,” and she waved him away.

Billy navigated around the island counter to find his smaller self and the matching Steve standing on the pages of a cookbook. Larger Steve seemed to be trying and failing to sell them on mushrooms.

“It’s gway, Steve,” little Billy scolded over crossed arms. “Who wants gway food?”

“You don’t even notice it when it’s deep fried and covered in tomato sauce,” Steve reasoned, but the little ones moved out of his way to let him turn the page.

Large Billy leaned an elbow on the counter as they scrutinized the tomatoes stuffed with rice. “You’ll have better luck with that. Or Mexican food.”

Little Billy gazed up at him. “What’s Meckwican?”

“It’s colorful.”

“I like colwors.”

“I thought you might,” Billy confirmed with a smirk to Steve. “Who’s ordering?”

Steve took a deep breath and pushed off the counter to grab the collection of paper restaurant menus shoved between the refrigerator and the toaster. “Rob, what do you want?”

“Chicken sopes and a taco salad.”

“I’m not buying you two meals.”

“The salad is for tomorrow,” she reasoned.

“One bean burrito, coming right up,” Steve sassed, but his attention on the menu drifted up to little Steve and Billy climbing over the apples and pears in the fruit bowl like boulders. “Could you teach them how to swim?”

Big Billy’s eyes swung to him. “Excuse me?”

“I’ve got an old Barbie swimming pool - don’t look at me like that. Will you do it or not? It would save me the risk of a heart attack whenever they need a bath.”

Billy tipped his head to the side, not sparing Steve even a little bit. “What were you doing with Barbies, Steve?”

“This might not be relatable since you’re used to the ocean, but for a long time, I was the pool guy. The pool’s always been my ticket to making friends...or so I thought. Whatever. One summer, the only neighbor kids I had around me were girls. So I got a pool for their dolls. Are you a swimming instructor or not?”

Billy sighed and looked at his smaller self sitting on a pear like it were a horse and taking bites out of it. “I can get them started.”

Steve ordered their food and disappeared for a few minutes to get the small swimming pool out of storage. He cleaned it off in the sink, filled it with warm water, and Billy marveled, “You know, I would’ve said we could just use a casserole dish, but the slide and stairs are smart.”

Little Steve’s face lifted up to him, a blush making his cheeks go rosy as he smiled. “Smarwt Stevie.”

Big Steve waved some bathing suits in the air. “Are we skinny dipping or do you wanna change clothes?”

Billy’s eyes widened. “Where’d you get those? The sixties?”

Steve exhaled heavily. “We may or may not have a small doll collection, so what?”

“That’s such a rich people thing.”

“Yeah, well, they deserve a change of clothes and this is one less thing I have to explain to my mom when she looks at my card statements. Okay, B and Steve. Do you want the oranges or the flowers?”

He held up the swimming costumes for them to see and decide. All of a sudden, small Billy looked bashful as he tucked his chin and rolled his lips. Steve, meanwhile, hopped off the fruit bowl and pointed. “ ‘Wanges! Can I? Oh...Biwwy? Do you want the ‘wanges?”

He rubbed his tummy and admitted, “I want the fwowers.”

Large Billy’s brows pinched a little but he stayed quiet as big Steve encouraged, “You want the flowers one? That’s okay. It goes with your eyes.”

His lashes batted as he blinked up at him. “Weally?”

“Yeah,” Steve encouraged, “and they’re the same size. You can switch the next time you go swimming.”

Billy reached up for his swimsuit and they went to change in their shoebox. The larger Billy wondered aloud, “They have a sense of privacy?”

Steve shrugged. “There’s nothing wrong with wanting to see themselves first before us.”

When they emerged, Steve spooned water over the slide. The little ones climbed the ladder and went down it together as if they rode a sled instead of a slide. The pool was shallow enough for them to stand, providing big Steve the relief he needed to answer the door. Robin followed behind him to help carry the bags, and they set up their feast on the island counter.

Billy had to use his Rec Center ID card as a floating board, but it fit both of them length-wise as they practiced their kicks. “Good job, guys. How about another ride on the slide while I get my food.”

Steve only just got a dishtowel down so they didn’t slip on their way around the pool. Robin passed Billy his bag and he held a nacho chip out for the little ones to take a bite at the top of the slide.

Big Steve scolded, “Aren’t you supposed to wait thirty minutes between swimming and eating or something?”

“I think they’ll be okay,” Billy disregarded, crunching loudly on his chips. “Swimming 101 is just getting comfortable in the water. So...isn’t this supposed to be a movie night?”

“Movwie! Movwie! Movwie!” the little Steve and Billy chanted, thoroughly locked in chasing each other down the slide and back around.

Big Steve nodded over his burrito. “When they start to slow down...then the movie seals the deal.”

Billy snorted softly and kept providing a nacho station for them to run past. Eventually, the exercise and food did take their toll, and they collapsed on the dishtowel. Given their old school, linen swimsuits, they dried off pretty fast, but little Steve eventually sat up and started patting Billy’s hair. The larger Billy observed this as the smaller one whined a tired sound.

“Biwwy, don’t get sick.”

“I won’ get sick. That’s what Stevie’s always sayin’.”

However, big Steve seconded with a restaurant napkin in hand. “Gimme those ears.”

Little Billy sat up in a huff, but sat still for Steve to gently push the napkin against his ears to siphon the water out of them. Then he folded it to get into the nooks and crannies of his ears and jaw. “Thank you, B. Okay, you next.”

That rosy hue filled little Billy’s cheeks as he mumbled a weak, “You’rwe wewlcome.”

Little Steve, meanwhile, stood up tall, blissful in his pampering. “Stevie? Can we have the honey tea?”

“ ‘Course you can. Go with Billy to the coffee table. He and Rob will get the movie going.”

It was little Steve’s turn to blossom a pink hue as they climbed onto Billy’s palms. They planted their butts down and held onto each other as Billy magic carpeted them to the setup of plushies on the coffee table. Small Steve gingerly stepped off his hand with a bashful, “Thankwou, Biwwy.”

“You’re welcome,” he answered quietly - 

Only to glare at Robin, who sat on the couch behind him. “You’re allowed to like them. I won’t spill.”

Small Billy lingered on the hand as he exclaimed, “Spiww what?”

She segued smoothly, “Won’t spill that we got Indiana Jones to watch. That is, if it’s not too scary.”

Billy finally got off the hand with a scoff. “Scawy? We watched the wed buwll and that wasn’t scawy.”

Little Steve perked up from the fluff of an otter. “It was a wittle scawy.”

“We can fast forward through the scary parts,” Robin promised, and slotted the VHS into the player. But as soon as she turned back around, her eyes widened. “Uh oh.”

“I knew it!” cried Billy from the doll box that had been placed on the coffee table. Little Billy climbed out, grinning victoriously with the tiny whip in hand and the hat on his head. “I’m weady!”

Robin glanced up at Steve in the kitchen, too busy trying to mix a safe temperature of water and honey together. “Uh, B? Can I talk to you about that - No no nonono...”

“Hey! Wobin? What gives?” little Billy exclaimed when she pinched the whip to keep him from waving it around.

“B, I’m sorry, but Steve doesn’t want you to have that.”

“Well Stevie can kiss my ass!”

That got a rankled Steve to come out of his otter plush. “Biwwy. Be nice.”

Robin corralled, “Billy, these things are use to hurt people. They’re not toys. You’ll see that in the movie.”

The fire started to go out of those blue eyes. “Hurwt peopwle?”

She nodded gravely. “We know you won’t mean to, but the whip might hurt your Steve. Even worse, you’re more likely to hurt yourself. That’s just how whips are. Big Steve loves you too much to tell you.”

His little body deflated as the large Steve finally arrived with a shot glass of honey tea. Seeing the body language on the coffee table, he sent inquiring looks to Billy and Robin.

Little Billy replied sadly, “Does Indiana Jwones hurt himself?”

“No, but it’s a movie, sweet B. It’s not real. You’re real and your Steve’s real. That’s way cooler than Indiana Jones.”

Big Steve sank onto the couch next to Billy. “What’s going on?”

“What’s going on, is that I’m not sure I like being sweet talked by proxy.”

Finding that unhelpful, Steve leaned forward to intercept. “Hey? Little man? Are you okay?”

Little Billy was absolutely not okay, because his bottom lip pushed up, his eyes went big, and he dropped the whip in order to run into Steve’s hands. Steve glared at Robin and mouthed, What did you do?

I handled it, she replied, dropping the whip back into the box.

Little Steve dragged his otter across the table, or as much as he could with stuff in his way. “Stevie! Helwp!”

“Okay, okay, come here,” he soothed, picking up all three so small Billy and Steve could cuddle together against the soft fur while being held in big Steve’s arms. Little Billy bawled his eyes out during the opening of the movie, warranting big Steve to peek at the large Hargrove next to him. “It’s kind of wild how much their little bodies can hold onto. I thought you’d have stepped in by now.”

However, Billy’s mouth had been set in a hard line for a while now, and he shook his head. “I’m out of my element here, man.”

“No crying kids at your pool?”

“I put shit heads in line. Beyond that, it’s the parents who cause more issues.”

Robin leaned across her armrest to query, “Steve, I thought you were lifeguard certified? You really were the pool guy for years, after all.”

“Sure, but I think they like having Billy around.”

“I wike having big Biwwy awround.”

They looked down at little Steve, who was practically lying on top of small Billy, who blinked sometimes at the movie, but otherwise seemed too tired to really watch it.

“Biwwy does too. I know it. Biwwy wants to be stwong, like big Biwwy.”

But Billy shook his head. “I’m not the kind of guy to look up to, Harrington.”

Big Steve absorbed that in silence. For all of the Hawkins’ renowned lifeguard’s peacocking, Billy had never said anything like that before.

“Then wook down to us. My Biwwy’s smarwt, and nice,” little Steve smiled and finished, “Hawgwove.”

For a brief moment, Billy lost control of his face and his features crumpled, his eyes glossing over as his brows furrowed together. But he got a hand over his mouth, scrubbing his features clean. “Just watch the movie, short stack. He’ll feel better after he sleeps.”

#harringrove #wrecked-fuse #neonponders #pocketverse #pocket!au #ficlet #they're channeling benoit blanc's pool loungewear #and i might be crying shut up

[darkficsyouneveraskedfor]

wallflower 5

Warnings: age gap, creepin’, slow burn, stepdad-adjacent, possible noncon/dubcon, abuse, violence, self-harm.

Character: silverfox!Thor

Your mother meets a new man, but he doesn’t seem very interested in her.

Note: Helloooooo! Another erratic drabble series. Appreciate any and all feedback. Love you all.

Your mother’s house isn’t small but Thor’s is at least twice the size. His home is tucked away in the upscale suburbs of the north end, a curiosity to you as you wonder who needs all that space for themself. Everything beyond your bedroom is always a bit confounding to you but your mind wanders further the longer you’re away from it. 

Thor has to be close to your mother’s age. Does he have a family? Rather did he? Divorced? Estranged? You see little evidence but you don’t dare delve into these questions very far. Your mother’s warning chimes in your head, keeping you in your place; stay out of my way.

You fidget with the long silver fork, uninterested in your meal as your stomach tosses and turns at your strange surroundings and your listless thoughts. 

Your mother has her mask firmly in place as she sits close to Thor, and you languish on your side of the table. She takes a greedy gulp of wine and squeezes his arm as he cuts into his T-bone. That’s how it goes; you, the third wheel, watching life from the outside. You doubt you’ll ever do anything exciting. You’re not meant to do, only witness.

You poke at a green bean, content to let their conversation carry on as if you’re not even there.

“You alright over there?” Thor asks and your fork pierces through the bean and tinks off the plate sharply. You glance up at him in surprise, believing for a moment you were truly invisible.

You nod and pick up the bean, shoving it into your mouth so that you don’t have to answer. Your mother sighs and reaches for the bottle of wine. Thor’s hand wraps around the neck first, as he grips it without looking.

“I have been so careless,” he slides the bottle away from your mother as she curls her lip, her hand still outstretched and empty, “I didn’t even offer you wine. You are old enough, yes?”

You rub your lips together. They’re dry and chapped and rough. You didn’t bring your lip balm. You catch some loose skin and it tears off under your front teeth. 

“Er…” you begin.

“No,” your mother says firmly, “old enough she may be but I wouldn’t have it. She can finish her water.”

You smile, or try to, your lips tremble in your fraught facade, “thank you, I don’t like wine.”

“I have beer,” Thor offers.

“I said ‘no’,” your mother insists, “Thor, she is my daughter.”

“She’s an adult, no?” He lets go of the wine, “I was only being courteous,” he sits back and looks at her, pushing his shoulders back as he rests his arms on the chair, “in my home.”

“And what a nice home it is, sweetheart,” she preens as she takes the bottle and fills her glass. 

You notice how Thor watches the pour and his cheek ticks. Is he annoyed with her? Or you? Maybe he regrets bringing you along. You’re just getting in the way. You slice another bean in half with the side of your fork and take a bite. It’s good, seasoned well, not too hard or dry.

“Thank you,” you eke out, “this is very good.”

Thor slowly turns back to you and smiles. “Thanks, I’ve been busying myself lately in the kitchen. I have much more free time so I’ve taken on the hobby.”

“Oh, a man that cooks, you really are perfect,” you mother smirks and takes another deep swig of the wine, a droplet escaping the corner of her lips.

“Perhaps you should have some water,” your host offers, his eyes lingering on you a moment before facing your mother, “that is a high volume cask. From my own brother’s vineyard. He sends me a bottle or two when he remembers me.”

“Your brother? A whole vineyard? That sounds wonderful. Perhaps one day you could take me.”

“It isn’t very fit for a family trip, especially if the young one can’t drink,” Thor shrugs.

“I said me,” your mother snipes then catches herself, covering her mouth and giving a gentle giggle, “forgive me, it has been a long week.”

“Mm, yes,” Thor sits forward and resumes carving into his half-devoured steak, “don’t let it get cold.”

“Of course, sweetheart,” your mother puts down her glass, almost empty again, “it is all so delicious. Again, I must thank you for all your effort and… inviting my daughter. You really didn’t have to.”

“Like I said, it’s important for us all to get to know each other.”

You cut into your steak and watch the juice ooze out, revealing the perfect pink tint of the inside. You eat in silence, hoping to clear your plate and be done with it. 

What happens after? When you’ve nothing to do but stare at the wall? When you have nothing to offer to the conversation and no excuse for it?

Why are you here?

Your stomach aches as you try to force down the savoury steak. Your mother regales Thor with the latest office gossip about how Nicole was called in for an unexpected performance review. The story is cruel but she tells it as if it’s a joke. He doesn’t respond as he eats.

The food is so rich but heavy. You put your fork and knife down and wipe your fingers with the cloth napkin. Your movement draws Thor’s attention and you nearly wilt beneath his stormy blue irises.

“I’m so sorry, I don’t think I can eat it all,” you say from behind the napkin, “but I can do the dishes–”

“It’s alright, I’ll give it to Fen.”

“Fen?” You wonder.

“Oh, I’ve locked that oaf up to save you the stampede,” he chuckles, “he’s the old wolfhound lurking around my garage. I imagine he’s knocked over the bin by now.”

“Wolfhound? A dog?” Your mother scowls, she always forbid you from having a pet.

“A dog?” You echo in a more hopeful tone, “is he nice?”

Thor laughs as he ignores your mother’s gripe. “I like to think he is but I’m afraid he takes after me. He’s big and a bit bullish, and can be a bit moody.”

“Oh,” you deflate, “I like dogs.”

“How about after dinner we see what he thinks of you. He’s a bit of a lady’s man, I think he might like you.”

“Really?”

“Dear, you really shouldn’t be hanging around dirty dogs,” your mother huffs, “she doesn’t need to see the mutt.”

“Mutt?” Thor whispers as he tears his attention from you, “I’ve trained him myself and he’s bred well. I consider him family so you won’t call him that.”

“Sorry, sweetheart, it’s just…” your mother gives a dramatic swoon and fans herself, “I had an awful experience with a dog, an attack!” She touches her chest, “it has given me a bit of a phobia. I am nervous, is all.”

You fold your hands in your lap and turn your face down, hiding so you can’t betray her lie. An attack? You recall her kicking the neighbour’s new puppy for pissing on the fence. It’s almost impressive how she frames the world through her Kat-tinted glasses. How every experience is a test of her character which she must overcome.

“May I use the bathroom?” You ask as you sit up straight.

“Just down the hall, honey,” Thor points with his steak knife, “don’t get too lost.”

“Right, thank you,” you stand and put your napkin down as your mother glares at you.

“Don’t touch anything,” she girds and lifts her glass again, “you know how clumsy you are.”

“Yes, mom,” you answer as you fix your skirt, the lace bunching up around one thigh and catching on itself. Thor’s eyes follow your hand and the flutter of fabric. “Be back.”

You sidle around the front of the chair and pad out quickly. You just want to go home. You have no place here. No purpose. Just like everything else.

#thor #dark thor #dark!thor #thor x reader #drabble #dark drabble #dark!drabble #drabble series #wallflower #series #mcu #marvel #au #silverfox!thor #avengers