#one of these days i will make a proper event of it

[bunninova]

nothing new to add to the watcher fiasco so here's this. not to make it personal but I'm gonna make it personal.

what they get payed per brand deal could pay for a year of uni for me. what they make with patreon per year would change my entire family's life. my 50-60 year old parents could finally drop one of the multiple jobs they have, my sister could spend time with her kids and finally afford a proper wedding, I could go back to much needed therapy. we could travel more and go to concerts and nice restaurants, we could get tattoos and professional haircuts, we could spend money on spoiling our pets, we could buy books and clothes and go to the cinema without having to carefully budget, things the watcher folk do regularly without giving it a second thought. I could buy my best friend with unstable housing an apartment for their family for fucks sake. I'm out here skipping meals on school days because I can't afford to spend £5-10 a day to eat at uni, 'borrowing' necessities from big stores, and missing out on social events or birthdays that involve going out. I've only donated £20 in total in the last couple months to help people in Gaza and it devastates me that I can't donate more. I'm still privileged in many ways, the world is in shambles and regular people are being hit with an economic crisis, where housing and food is hard to secure.

I've been a huge fan of Shane and Ryan since I was thirteen, they were my comfort creators. I even checked their shows and merch to see if I could afford it (no) because I wanted to support them. their content has gone down hill for the past year and I still sat through the forced cringey parts because I used to love their videos. I respected them, they brought me joy and inspired me to create. "we priced it low enough that anyone can afford it". fuck off. day 3 and not even an acknowledgement. this has felt like the biggest "fuck you, poor" ever to me and I'm crushed.

#vent #watcher entertainment #watcher #wearewatcher #we are watcher #ryan and shane #shane madej #ryan bergara #mystery files #ghost files #steven lim #capitalist hell #capitalism #personal rant #rant post

[beneathstarryskies]

Word Count: 1,285 Warnings: fem!reader, pentration (p+v), oral (f recieving), fluffy Summary: You reunite with Halsin after the events in Baldur's Gate. A/N: This is just a little thing I had some inspo for

The moon shines over the water, bright and silver as the pieces in your pack. It’s been a long journey, one most ardently taken so you could be reunited with Halsin at last. He’s still awake when you cross the bridge to Last Light Inn. He peers out the window to see you, and a small smile tugs on his lips. 

You hardly recognize the lands that used to be shadow-cursed. Lush greenery grows along the side of Last Light, covering it in vines and flowers. Moss and grass have begun growing between the stonework at your feet. It used to be trodden down by the activity of the Harpers but has since slowed down since the area is in relative peace. 

Halsin comes out the door at the same time you’re approaching it. Without hesitation, he wraps you up in a warm bear hug. You giggle as your feet lift from the ground, and he spins you around. 

“My heart, I’ve watched the horizon for you,” he declares as he carefully sets you down on your feet again. He cups your cheeks gently and smiles down at you with such warmth. 

“I came as soon as I could,” you say before leaning up on your tiptoes to kiss him sweetly. “I’m sorry it took so long.” 

“It’s no matter, my heart. I only thank the Oakfather that you’re here with me now.” 

He reaches down to take your hand in his, and he leads you inside. You’re surprised he’s taken up residence in the inn, but he explains that the Tiefling children had already come to see this place as home so he decided to take up residence here as well while they worked on building their little homestead. 

“There’s a place for you, of course,” he says as he leads you upstairs to his room. “That is if you intend on staying.” 

That is something you’ve thought about at length. Whether you would choose to stay or continue your adventures. However, the decision was made the moment Halsin took you into his arms again. You were home. 

“I would love to stay, and embark on a new adventure at your side,” you say gently. 

“I would like that too,” he confirms before ushering you inside his room. He guides you to sit on the bed, and before you have time to ask he’s kneeling before you. His deft fingers begin undoing the laces of your well-worn boots. He slips them off carefully and sets them aside. Then his warm hands are rubbing your legs through your pants. He can hardly wait to get his hands on you after so long apart, but he knows you’ve been traveling for a while. He wants to assure you’re comfortable before even considering making a proper move on you. “Do you need anything, my heart? A bath? A meal?” 

“A bath would be lovely,” you let out a blissful sigh. “I must smell horrible.” 

He chuckles softly, “If it was day we’d bathe in the lake, but I suppose you’d like me to fill the tub instead for the night?” 

You nod eagerly. As he goes to fill the tub, you stand from the bed to begin to take off your clothes. It feels so good to free yourself from the weight of your armor, and finally stand bare. Halsin uses magic to heat your bathwater, then turns to you. His eyes widen as he sees your body bared to him. He comes closer to you, and his breath is shaky as he places his hands on your hips. 

“Oh, how have I forgotten how beautiful you are? Could it be my memory is not as strong as the vision before me?” he whispers. 

You lean in to kiss him passionately, raising once more onto your tiptoes. You tug at his clothes. 

“Join me in the bath,” you say with the slightest plea in your voice. 

“You don’t have to ask twice.” 

You help him out of his clothes, then you allow him into the bath first so you can settle yourself between his legs with your back to his chest. His hands are on your body under the guise of washing you, but the soap in his hands is merely a flimsy excuse to feel you up to his heart’s content. 

“I missed you,” he whispers against your ear. 

“I missed you too,” you smile softly before laying your head back against his shoulder so you can see his face. His eyes are fixed on you with unbridled adoration. 

He presses soft kisses on your cheek and along your jawline. His hands are gentle, but reverential, on your skin. He kneads and caresses with care, but he is holding back. You can tell by the way his breath feels slightly heavier and he keeps adjusting his position slyly hoping you won’t feel how hard he is just from washing you. 

Finally, you can’t help yourself anymore. You turn around in the bath and move to straddle his lap. His eyes light up with excitement as you lean in to kiss him deeply. Your tongues rub together in a sensual dance of longing. He caresses your sides gently, and guides you to grind against him. His cock throbs against your core. 

“Should we get out?” you whisper against his mouth as you pull away from the kiss. 

“Oh, yes. I think we should.” 

He helps you out of the bath and leads you to the bed. He’s kissing you deeply as he lays you down, and hovers over your form. 

“Is this okay?” he asks. He awaits your eager consent before continuing. 

His lips travel the curves and dips of your body like a leaf sailing across the river. He moans just from feeling your body again. His heart races in his chest with pure excitement. Finally, after what seems to be a hundred kisses, he spreads your thighs. He lays between them, and you hear a low growl escape his throat as he smells the musk of your arousal. He leans in to drag his tongue along your slit before suckling on your folds. 

“Mm, delicious,” he grunts before returning to his task with increased fervor. You throw your head back against the pillows as he flicks his tongue against your clit. You roll your eyes back with pleasure, and resist the urge to grind against his face. 

The dim candlelight falls over the room, casting intimate shadows on the wall. When he looks up at you again, his eyes are lit up in shades of gold. You caress his cheeks. 

“I need you,” you whine. 

“Then you’ll have me.” 

He sits up on his knees, and gives his cock a few gentle strokes before guiding himself to your entrance. You watch his face contort with pleasure as he slides into you. After so long apart, your walls stretch around his girth as though it’s the first time you’ve taken it. When he bottoms out, you let out a gentle whine. 

“Did I hurt you?” he asks, ready to pull out if the answer is yes. He lets out a breath of relief he hadn’t realized he’d been holding when you shake your head. 

“No, it’s just been so long.” 

“I’ll be gentle,” he promises as he lowers his body against yours. He kisses you soothingly as he starts moving slowly, his hips rocking in a gentle rhythm. 

“H-halsin,” you moan.

“Mm, yes?” he presses a kiss to the corner of your lips. 

“It feels so good.” 

“I know, my heart,” he whispers. “I’m already having to hold back.” 

“Don’t worry about holding back,” you giggle before kissing him again. “We have plenty of time now.”

#halsin x reader #halsin bg3 x reader #halsin x tav #daddy halsin #halsin #halsin silverbough #halsin bg3 #🌟written in the stars #listen i know it ends kind of mid smut but it just felt right

[afterthegreatunknown]

Post-Canon Headcanon Moodboard Aesthetic Edits for R, the [former] Duchess of Winnipeg, Sally Sebald, Larry Wisniewski (Wiśniewski; Larry Your-Waiter is not his full name), and R's heir apparent and adopted daughter Ramona Q (Quach; Quách).

#asoue #a series of unfortunate events #duchess of winnipeg #sally sebald #larry your waiter #r #asoue oc #ramona q #(that's the tag i'm giving her) #(can't believe it took me this long to post these lol) #(i should make a proper post one day for this rag-tag group of four but this will do for now) #moodboard aesthetic #moodboard edit

[qrovidcore]

man the thing about doing the temple of bhaal first is that durge is speaking from experience huh

#‘​‘reject the safety of power. it’s not worth losing yourself’’ says the person who has just Been There all of two days ago #to the person who is struggling with this now in real time #who KNOWS that they were just there. #because he was there when they were. he saw. #just. the freight behind it!! #it caught me too in a smaller way. telling the children that you know it will be okay is Something. #and also just that. the *you trusted me when it was an objectively stupid thing to do* going BOTH ways #just. holds him gentle. as though that’s not what you just did for durge?? #the. camp conversations after each one. #‘‘but somehow by your side; i still only ever saw you’’ / ‘‘but you saw something in me - someone else i could be’’ #why are these two the same. why does it keep Fucking Me Up that they’re the same. #i just. POINTS at that. #THEM. #ANYHOW. WELL. JUST. I. #CAN REPORT BACK FROM THE FRONT THAT I WAS NOT EMOTIONALLY PREPARED FOR THE CAZADOR FIGHT #i think everything about THAT SCENE^tm that can be said HAS been said so i will!! mostly just shake my fists at neil newbon and yell a LOT!! #there is NO emotionally preparing for ANYTHING in that sequence of events huh #can’t even make a proper goddamn post becuase there’s just so no preparing. i just have to Live Like This. #and #don’t do these quests back to back you’ll just emotionally ruin yourself ;-; #(actually DO do these quests back to back like that. don’t you want a little emotional damage.) #bg3 #the paranoid android speaks!

[yxstxrdrxxm]

(Since i already did reveal myself, i'll just send asks without being an anon lol)

Oh! That's easy, actually. Although we won't be available when we leave tomorrow, we contacted a certain someone that can run this blog and inform us of any messages you have for either me or Eros ^^

Navina? 👀

Speaking of, Eros wanted to tell you that he appreciated your presence, Mochi! Every time we talked about you and the others, I've seen him smile and mutter something about getting a calico cat and naming her after you. It was so cute! Eros never had any close friends other than me, so seeing her talk about everyone and you like we were all best friends warmed my heart.

SJNSKSJDJD- THAT IS SO CUTE??? Naming a calico cat after me, awhhh 🥺 cupid, can you tell eros that i appreciate knowing her too?? Tell her i said she's very cute too- (and yk there's something funny about your words. I also have a calico cat roaming around my house lmaoo, why is my life so full of funny coincidence-)

Aha... Anyways, before I go on rambling, that's all I can say. We'll see what we can do to make things easier and so we can speak to you all again, hehe! I hope you'll still be around when that happens :D

Oh yeah, i forgot to copy the sentence, but uhh, about that interesting thing in next month, i'll be sure to keep my eyes on it! Whether it'd be another event (i doubt it would be this one, please rest navina 💀) or anything else, i will be enthusiastic about it :] AND YES, I WILL STILL BE AROUND 🙆🏻‍♀️ you can't get rid of me, i'm like that small mistake when you're drawing and you just can't seem to erase it unless you get to the layer who has it-

Hehe, whoever it is will be a surprise, but I'll tell Eros that you appreciate the sentiment as well! She's out right now to get some last minute groceries (and also snacks, we'll be having a small movie night to celebrate our resignation!), so she'll definitely be pleased to hear your message.

Anyway, its nice to see you'll stick around even if we won't be here, then :D hope you enjoy what else will go down while we're busy settling some last minute plans.

(note from yours truly: HELPAIDSRFHUI NOT THE CALICO CAT... dwdw, Im gonna rest for after the main story + maybe writing the dlc fics. on hindsight, they might not be guaranteed to be all posted because bro, my brain needs a huge reboot when this sht is all done and dusted. orz.)

(tbh the next one wont be abt OLC anymore, thankfully, but! it will also reference this + make small cameos. Dont know what I'll do this time around when I get the chance but we shall see kek)

(Istg though when Im done Im gonna limit whoever I'll write. I love writing all of these characters and thinking abt them but God do I now resent how many I have to research. fuck THAT.)

(anyways!! I shall go eep for a good while on writing + maybe post dlcs. I will say that some fics will most def not be published even after the week for dlc stuff/extra fics because my brain just. isnt braining. orz orz im gonna cry. i'll prolly post them randomly idk HAIUHDUFSI anyways ill shut up now goodbye—)

#💌 ;; messenger writes #💌 ;; promising letter: one last call #💌 ;; a letter from: mochinon-yah #;; ill make a proper tag for cupid but aaaaaa too lazy #;; anyways yuh #;; tmr is the last day of the main story + event so I am VERY stoked #;; finally... now i gotta worry of the dlc stuff LMAO #;; might just make some short snippets though. writing full fics is rlly taxing esp to those i dont know much on writing for #;; so theirs will be as short as wandys #;; but the rest... we'll see lol. #;; we'll see.

[pettyprocrastination]

Hello all my work has shorted employees hours so much that many of us (myself included) are only working one or two days this week. If you’d like to commission me to sew something for you (totebags, zipper pouches, bookmarks) or buy a pair of earrings that would be much appreciated! Absolutely not mandatory nor guiltripping, just like to put that out there in case anybody was in search of some little crafts for themselves <3

#incredibly greatful to laura and katryn to have made orders with me I love you both a million <3 #but with only working one day next week as well as the craft fair getting cancelled I'd like to make some extra money where i can! #im afraid im babysitting rn so i don't have any pictures available of what i have/do make but I have lots of mando n grogu and halloween- #-fabric if that picks anybodies fancy #I also do flannel heat pouches full of rice and lavender for aches and cramps! #Tomorrow is my sewing day so i can get those orders to those lovely girls out and I'm gonna reach out to my university #about doing a student event #laurua i shall send you pictures of ALL THE THINGS tomorrow plus something that if i can make a proper mold out of it i think you'd LOVE

[vampiromano]

fuck it I'm starting singing classes

i actually wrote a lot of tags on this one. it's mostly personal reminders. but I'm posting it bc I'll forget to do any of this otherwise

i do not check my scheduling apps I'm a disaster❤️

anyway the tldr is I'm leaving this year's seasonal depression behind‼️‼️‼️‼️‼️‼️ fuck yes

i get it in summer bc I'm built different (got a few mental disorders) but yeah anyway I don't fucking care I'm DOING SHIT AGAIN somebody clap

#not sure where not sure when not sure with what money #list of things to do tmrw #1. actually talk to my tattoo artist #2. ask my aunt about singing teachers (she sings) #3. enroll in Something Free. anything. oh god i need Anything #4. CLEAN MY CLOSET FOR THE LVOE OF FUCK IVE BEEN WEARING THE SAME SHIRT FOR TWO MONTHS AND IT'S NOT EVEN MY ONLY ONE #i do clean it obvs #and it looks cool it's a green day tshirt #but MAN do i wear it ALL THE FUCKING TIME #seasonal depression is shit stay safe #(i knkw people say it for winter but im always busy in winter. so i like it. i never do shit on summer though. cos i get depressed as fuck) #FUCK ANYWAY FUCK list of things im definitely doing for sure lest i continue being depressed #anyway it should be fine now though #i just bought tickets for a bar event thing i wanna go to #and I've got plans for saturday #and next month #it's finnnneeeeeeeeeeeeeeee #bjt i gotta make sure it keeps being so #i can't go back to doing nothing I'll kill myself #OH ALSO 5. BUY TICKETS FOR MIRANDA 20JUN PLEASE GOD PLEASE I NEED. THAT #6. actually note down all the things and appointments I've got scheduled lest i die forever #7. reconnect with my friends? make new ones? #i need friends #haven't had proper friends in two years it's making me sick in the head #like i have friends but I don't have Friends I Can Spontaneously Do Shit With #i just have 'if we meet perchance we'll hit it off + i like your IG stuff' friends #bc I'm social until I'm not #anyway i need AFRIENDDDGROUPPPP #fuck #anyway fuck

[mrrharper]

Academic requirements

Coach received some worrying information about one of his star players, DE1. His performance at practice and during games was still very good, great even. But it was all overshadowed by some disturbing reports. DE1 's grades have gone up since last season and he was seen walking around campus with a textbook in his hand. Moreover, his turnout at frat events dropped below 100% and he has been seen interacting with multiple nerds at least three times within the previous two weeks.

This was enough for Coach to get concerned, so he invited DE1 for a chat in his office. The jock entered the room and sat in a chair in front of Coach's desk. DE1 was one of Coach's finest specimens - he was absolutely huge. 6'5 and 260 pounds of pure muscle, with arms ready to tackle a mountain, pecs and shoulders prepared to withstand the pressure of the entire offensive line and legs the size of tree trunks. An absolute stud, and perfect advertisement of Coach's training methods.

Coach greeted DE1 and explained why he asked him to come - he laid out all the concerning rumors that were spreading withing the building of the Athletics Department - about his focus on studying and interacting with non-jocks. DE1, in turn, was confused by what he heard and didn't really know how to respond to his Coach's words.

He didn't have time to come up with anything to say though, as right after he finished speaking Coach turned his computer around and DE1 was now looking straight into a monitor displaying a condensed version of one of Coach's trusted hypnotic videos. The jock's attention suddenly shifted towards the screen, forgetting about anything else. His whole body relaxed in the chair, his legs now wide apart and showing off his bulge, visible through his shorts.

As the video showed shirtless jocks working out, then jocks in full gear tackling each other during a football game, then jocks partying and drinking while dancing with only boxers on, DE1 began drooling. As he did, subliminal messages continued to make their way into his brain

DUMB

BRO

FLEX

OBEY

LIFT

PARTY

JOCK

DAWG

The sounds encoded within the video only amplified these commands. Coach looked from behind the screen as his best edge rusher took in everything Coach wanted and slowly, but surely, returned to his proper ways - a jacked brute, capable only of lifting, partying and sacking every QB he encounters.

After a while the video came to an end. Coach took back his computer and DE1 blinked a few times, then wiped most of the drool form his face and scratched his crotch.

"uhhhhhhh, Coach.... what... happened, bruh?"

"Everything's fine. Let me ask you a few questions. What's your name."

"DE1, Coach, duh."

"And who are you?"

"Am the best DE in the conference, Coach!"

"What's your approach to college and classes?"

"Duuuuude, that's some nerd shit, lemme tell ya, Coach, I do just enough to go above the NCAA threshold for scholarship athletes, bro, huhuhuhuh"

"Good, DE1, and do you stay in contact with people who don't play football?"

"Ugh, dude, Coach, me? With a fuckin' nerd? Bruh, am doin' just fine with the dudes on the team. Ain't no one else I need to stay in contact with, Coach"

Coach grinned as DE1 responded exactly the way he was supposed to.

"Thanks, DE1, you're free now. Don't be late to tomorrow's practice"

"Will do, Coach!"

A day later Coach was notified of DE1 posting a shirtless photo on Instagram with the caption reading "who ready for that Alpha Phi beer fest bruhs?"

#jock #football jock #football machine #jock hypno

[princessbrunette]

CRUSH ♡

… based loosely on the song crush by ethel cain ⊹˚. ♡

pairing: linecook!jj maybank + sweetheart!reader

synopsis: you’re head over heels for your bad-boy coworker, jj— the linecook for the outerbanks beachside restaurant you waitress at. a customer spilling coffee over your uniform catalysts a chain of events.

cw: a gun but no violence, shitty customers, jj being jj, smut.

You didn’t really know about restaurant employee culture until you started your job as a waitress. Stereotypes, things that fate would just simply decide to come true in every single restaurant no matter what. Waitresses were either the sweetest people you’d ever met or the bitchiest, managers had favourites and if you weren’t one of them they treat you like shit, the kid who gets stuck on dishwasher duty was always younger than everyone and fell in love with all the waitresses— uber specific and odd stuff. Oh, and that linecooks were troubled, or whores.

JJ Maybank was more troubled than the latter. Well, you’d hoped so anyways. You’d had a crush on the blonde linecook from your very first day, a quieter morning at the beginning of spring when the beachside restaurant was criminally understaffed. Your manager had appointed him to show you around before either of you had even made it inside, the tough older woman calling him out as he arrived to work, climbing off his bike, chewing on a toothpick with headphones over his ears. Your heart had fluttered when he bantered with the older woman, pointing to the music-playing-muffs over his ears, mouthing an ‘I can’t hear you, sorry’ when she’d approached him.

You’d felt embarrassed almost, like you were taking up his time. He was clearly comfortable here, had a good relationship with everybody— even the manager who seemed to hate the world tenfold. She’d yanked off his headphones and jut her thumb towards you as he stared her down with a mischievous grin.

“Maybank, I need you to show around the newbie— uh, what’s your name again sweetheart?” She spins to you, and for the first time JJ’s eyes flicker towards you, brows jumping up just a hair, a micro-expression that only you could hold onto for hope. Hope that he might be a little interested. You speak your name, and he’s swerving around the manager in his white tshirt, apron tied lazily around his waist, hung down, not even wearing it over his shirt like he’s meant to, black backwards cap over blonde messy hair.

“Well it is very nice to meet you ma’am.” He juts out a hand with a stupidly large grin that makes you feel even more shy.

You remember that day so clearly, the blonde showing you the ropes, practically training you whilst your manager chain smoked out the back. You remembered how you hadn’t had a proper school-girl style crush like this since forever, and one day into working at the restaurant you were already head over heels for the loud and hyperactive Pogue.

A few months down the line, and your bond had blossomed. Well, somewhat — it was a busy restaurant, lots of waitresses and cooks and customers. There wasn’t always time for chit-chat and flirting. Which sometimes you were grateful for, plates clanking awkwardly in your hands as you spot a more confident waitress trying her luck with him, hair twirled around a long finger. You were delusional enough to believe JJ seemed politely disinterested at the least, choosing to busy himself with ruffling the top of your head with his knuckles as you pass by him, hiding your smile at his acknowledgment.

You wouldn’t say the two of you were friends. You’d hoped not anyway, dreading being stuck in the friendzone with the guy you’d spent months pining after. You couldn’t be friends because you’d never hung out with him outside of work, not that you’d deny him but he’d never asked. You’d seen him around, don’t get it twisted — that group of friends of his; the brunette one who always seemed to be the talk of the town, the darker skinned boy who seemed too smart to be slumming it on a boat smoking weed, and a girl — who laughed at all of JJ’s jokes and threw glares to anyone she deemed too ‘Kook-y’. That was some serious intel, but you swear up and down you weren’t a stalker— just paying attention when you’d see him outside of the workplace.

JJ made it clear you were his favourite waitress. Well, he’d said it himself, holding a plate just out of your reach when you’d come to collect an order, playful smirk on his face as he stares down at you. “Can I have my order?” you pretend to hate it, hiding your smile as you huff, reaching out.

“I dunno, I could almost swear there’s a magic word that you’re missing there, girlie. Y’wanna help me out with that? Orrrr…” He tilts his head, playing dumb and you let the smile free— cheeks pushing up as you gaze at his stupid expression.

“Please, JJ.” You offer sweetly instead of sassing him, which makes his heart clench a little because you were just an absolute sweetheart by nature. He lowers the plate, hovering it above your palm and giving you a more serious look.

“Plates hot, alright? Better be careful with those delicate mittens.” You roll your eyes bashfully and he presses it into your palm. The plate was warm at best, it seeming that JJ would say anything just to keep the conversation going longer than it needed to.

“Thank you.” You smile once it was in your hand and he nods, faux solemnly as he backs off back to his work station, ignoring the knowing stare from his partner linecook.

“So polite, s’why you’re my favourite, princess.” He points with a wink and you turn away before he can see how flustered it made you. Princess, are you kidding me? It’s like he wanted to make you drop the plate. He watches the door swing as you head back out into the bustling restaurant, and jumps a little in surprise when he turns back to come face to face with another linecooks smirk.

“Playin’ favourites, huh Maybank?”

The blonde itches his cheek, bashful with a shrug— going back to chopping a carrot like he was before.

“Yeah well— doesn’t everyone do that here?” He tries to brush it off, head swivelling to glance back at the door, just incase you overheard.

“Yeah… yeah, chose a pretty one though, I’ll give you that. Lemme know when you’re done with it, I wanna play.” He speaks with a stomach-turning smile, and certainly doesn’t miss the way JJ’s jaw clenches, knife nearly going not only through the carrot but the chopping board too. Dont cause a scene now, Jayj.

JJ was troubled, like you’d said. You’d heard whispers from waitresses or friends of a friend outside of work — things about his father always being in jail, the blonde himself ending up in overnight cells a series of times. You’d heard about fights, his name always ringing close to the scene, even car chases and rumours about his run ins with big time criminals— but you wasn’t sure how verifiable any of these were.

It didn’t seem totally far fetched though, the Pogue occasionally showing up to his shift with his head down, a new bruise splattered on his cheek bone or a gnarly gash. He had one the day things changed, a cut through his lip, gone almost black from blood constantly drying after he’d assumably lick it open. From a glance, it almost looked like a lip-ring, and he sported it well with a large greenish yellow bruise beside his eye over his temple. You wish you felt close enough to ask where they came from, but knew that would be prying. You didn’t even wanna listen in when you’d see the manager nod him into her office to give him ‘the talk’ and ask about it presumably, which you’d also guessed she’d gained no information from as he’d leave her office looking casual whilst she still wore that slightly frustrated and worried look on her face.

Everyone seemed to be in a weird mood that day, even the customers. It wasn’t really his fault, the man somehow backing into you abruptly enough for you to spill an old container of coffee all down yourself. Well, to rephrase — it was an accident, which was actually the best case scenario considering you’d had drinks poured down you on purpose for making them wrong before.

You get that awful coil of embarrassment in your stomach when you walk into the kitchen, beige staining right through your usual pristine uniform and falling in droplets off the ends of your hair. JJ sees the pout before the stains, and it comes as no surprise to the other linecooks when he rushes over like prince charming.

“You good? Someone do that to you?” He’s already trying to bound past you to go and ‘handle the situation’ (AKA, kick them out) but you shake your head— not really upset just tired, and now cold thanks to the old coffee soaking through to your skin.

“It was an accident. I don’t have anything to change into so I don’t know if I should just… go home, or something.” You hold your hands out in frustration, looking down at yourself.

“Oh, nah— don’t sweat it. Got a spare shirt in my locker you can wear. S’just a white t-shirt, should do the trick.” He steps backwards.

“But it’s not uniform?” You furrow your brows and he huffs out a chuckle at you always being such a stickler for following the rules. “Our manager will have my head, surely.”

“Think she’d rather that than you walkin’ round smellin’ like cold brew.” He fishes through his pockets and tosses you a small key with a red triangle keychain on the end, the key to his locker in the staff cloakroom. “Help yourself.”

“Thanks Jayj.” You smile, excusing yourself shyly at the use of the nickname you’ve heard others use on him but always chickened out on. He noticed, because he shows all his teeth when he smiles and nods, turning back around.

The cloakroom always smells weird— like mulch and rubber, a cold and windowless room with a bench and a wall of seafoam lockers. You flip the key in your hand, spotting the number on the back and match it to the lockers. Wearing JJ’s shirt, huh — you smile to yourself, feeling giddy and stupid at the butterflies that brush their wings against the inside of your stomach. He was just doing you a favour, sure — but you got to prance around wearing him all day, and that was enough to fuel your delusion. You off your stained shirt, leaving you in just a small and flimsy tank top that you usually wear beneath it incase of accidents like this.

You open the locker, and something black immediately drops out onto the floor, echoing loudly and bouncing once a tiny bit by your feet. The weird clinical lighting of the cloakroom casts a dark shadow below where your head searches down for it, so you move slightly— brows furrowing when you see the shape of it.

Your brain clearly hasn’t processed or caught up with just quite what you’re looking at as you bend down, lips parted as you pick the item up in your hand, standing back to full height once more. In your hand, you stared directly at a gun. A pistol, to be precise. You seem to be in shock, the weapon glued to your hand despite anyone being able to walk in and get you fired and or reported to the police within a matter of seconds. You turn the weapon in your hand in fascination, whispering a “What the…” to yourself.

JJ leans against the doorway with a forearm, just now remembering what resided in that very locker other than the shirt he so generously offered. He’s distracted for a moment by your skin, the skin on the back of your arms and your back as you stand with your uniform shirt bunched in your hand, until of course he spots what’s held in your other hand and physically winces.

“Shit, uh—” JJ vocalises and your head snaps around, sighing in relief once you see that it’s just him. You’re back to marvelling in shock at the item in an instant, ogling between him and the weapon. “So, that’s — that’s not what it looks like—”

“A gun?” You whisper the second word, looking up at him with wide eyes and he points the pistol downwards with his finger when you hold it accidentally facing him.

“Well, okay I mean yes — it’s a gun, but I had no choice. Had to momentarily keep it here, alright? I took it in for a friend and —”

“What are you, some kind of hitman?” You shake your head, earrings jangling a little with your stressed little gesture which would usually warm his heart if he wasn’t focused on deescalating.

“Okay, first of all— why don’t I take this from you missy,” He eases the gun out of your hands and accidentally fumbles it inside his locker, the weapon clattering against the echoey walls making him let out a quiet ‘whoops’ before placing a black gym bag on top of it. He turns to you. “Secondly, no okay I’m not a hitman— I haven’t ever shot a person with this thing.”

“Then… why do you have it?” You furrow your brows, seeming to have calmed down a little, which was relieving despite your reaction being totally valid.

“W—you know, gotta stay strapped. Protect my people.” He shrugs, attempting nonchalance and your eye twitches, realising how different the two of you are. JJ, bad boy with a gun in his locker— and you, straight arrow waitress. “Look all m’saying is if you told me someone was messing with you… I wouldn’t hesitate.”

You stare at him dumbfounded, wondering what on Earth he was going through to lead him to owning a gun, but you daren’t ask— even now. You eye him, brows knitting cutely.

“And you’re sure you’re not some serial killer?” You ask, folding your arms. Mostly joking. Mostly.

“Yeah nah I couldn’t do the whole choppin’ up dead bodies thing, m’pretty squeamish n’I got this thing with my gag reflex where y’know, I — I just—” He gestures to his throat, head bobbing with a preemptive gag but sees the way you’re staring at him like he’d just stepped off a space ship from Mars and decides against the bit, clearing his throat and glancing into his locker. “Enough of that uh— why don’t I go ahead and grab you that shirt you were after…” He reaches inside his locker, pulling out balled up white shirt, quickly turning it back from being inside out.

“There y’go…” He murmurs as he does so to no one in particular before shoving his arms inside and pulling the head hole wider before stuffing you inside it, tugging it until your head pops out, still staring at him a little dumbfounded. “Peekaboo.” He smiles nervously before leaving you to shove your own arm holes through, pulling it down over your tank top. He awkwardly watches before you hand him back his key and he locks his locker once more, glancing around at you.

“So about the—”

“Your secrets safe with me JJ. Thanks for the shirt.”

You swan around in the white fabric like it’s a ball gown for the rest of the day. Delusional didn’t feel like the right word, no— he gave you the shirt, which in your head is flirting— handing you the opportunity to daydream about being his girlfriend and wearing his clothes all the time. Each time you moved you could smell him on you, that faint smell of cigarettes and just him — reminding you of the times you’ve caught him on a rough shift fumbling for a pack of Marlboro Red’s and heading out the back door to be angsty for a while before returning with a plastered on smile. You bite your lip, staring into space as you rub the material between your fingers, waiting for a table to flag you down, excited for the next time you could go into the kitchen and see him… have him see you, wearing his shirt only hoping it hot-wires his brain with some sort of romantic association. Oh, JJ Maybank. He just made you so… so…

“Ugh, mmph JJ!” You cry out, later that night. Guilty, you ended up in nothing but the t-shirt and two fingers stuffed into your weeping cunt. You felt kind of perverse, despite the million promises to yourself to wash the shirt immediately after to return to him— but also there was just something painfully arousing about touching yourself wearing it— every layer beneath it removed to have your hardened nipples peak beneath the thin white fabric, tousled and jostled up where your ribcage was as you grind your digits inside of you.

You were home alone, like usual — which gave you the perfect opportunity to moan his name. Too horny to care about the 0.05% chance he’s strolling in your area and walking past the window, hearing. Even the idea of that aroused you further in the moment, wondering just what he’d think if he knew the sweet and harmless waitress was defiling her cunt in his name, in his shirt. You think about best case scenario, the blonde with his rough hand around his cock— and you knew it was rough from the way it felt when he’d touch your arm or brush against your fingers when handing you a dish. Rough from working on his bike and handling hot food and other Maybank shenanigans that still lead him to fist at his dick in his room at night thinking of you, you and only you.

You cum in your palm and feel disgraced. Poor JJ. You’re a total pervert and you must wash that shirt.

Except you don’t, and you fall asleep— returning to work in your spare uniform the next day. Empty handed. JJ doesn’t notice, hell — he doesn’t care. He’s stacked up with so many orders you almost feel bad even though it’s not your fault. Maybe you’re still riding off the guilt of masturbating in his shirt. There’s a sick sense of pride that twists in your gut when you look at him though. Boyish, sometimes thoughtless blonde with no idea that you came so hard moaning his name just a matter of hours before facing him again. You catch him in a quieter moment, leaning over to his station with a stressed expression to tell him that you forgot to bring his shirt back, to which he just responds with a shrug and a careless wave that read as ‘It’s cool.’ That was the JJ you knew. Cool, calm, didn’t give a shit. You got butterflies at the minute gesture. God, get a grip.

The next time it comes up, it’s because he brings it up. Catching you on your break, a cheekful of pasta he’d made for you to quickly cram down before your manager gets onto you for slacking off— JJ approaches your little table outside, blonde hair feathery and light in the sun. “Howdy there, shirt thief.” He grins lightheartedly, pulling out the other chair on the small circle table you sat at and straddling it backwards, leaning his arms on the backrest.

You nearly choke on your pasta at the speed you go to explain yourself— way to not make yourself seem guilty. “It’s in the washing machine, I literally just kept forgetting I’m sorry JJ.” You look all sweet and worried in the way that makes him wanna pinch your cheeks, so he fiddles with his lighter instead, flicking it on and off in his grasp.

“Nah you’re good.” He chuckles, staring out at the water the restaurant overlooked. It was a windier day, and even from where you sat you could hear the loud roaring of distant waves. “Hey uh— you want a ride home on the old bike? I can come in and grab it if like— if that’s cool.” He suggests, almost seeming a bit hesitant, nervous even.

“Oh! Yeah, I mean I’d have to stick it in the dryer first but you’re free to hang out whilst it dries… unless you really gotta go then, you can have your shirt back damp, I guess.” You mirror the nervous energy tenfold, practically stumbling over yourself to not sound as eager as you were. JJ, in your house.

“Yeah, sweet. Cool cool cool cool.” He bops his head, drumming on the table before suddenly his name was called from inside.

“Maybank! These fish aren’t gonna fry themselves, you know that right?” The tough, unmistakable chain smoker voice of your manager rings through the air and JJ winces theatrically for your entertainment, making you giggle the same way a child might after a party clown does something stupid. It was kind of pathetic, but atleast JJ found it endearing.

You weren’t lying about the shirt, thankfully. Honest — the JJ smell was gone so you’d tossed it in the washing machine before you’d head out onto your shift, planning on finally (reluctantly) returning it the next day.

He pushes himself up to leave, before pausing and leaning over the table towards you. You freeze, and he brings his thumb to your cheek — swiping away a speck of sauce from the pasta that has splattered into your skin from how greedily you wolfed down his food. “Lemme just… get that for you.” He mutters as he does so, turning his thumb around to show you the sauce stain that had transferred to his skin and ease your confusion.

If that wasn’t bad enough, he holds your gaze as he leans back, bringing his thumb to his mouth, cleaning off the sauce. Oh, you sick bastard. He doesn’t even try and hide his smirk— and you stare dumbly at the space he stood even after he’s long gone.

The shift dragged on, tip tapping your feet whenever you stood still for too long, excited bubbles in your stomach fizzing up like shaken pop everytime you thought about the linecook. It felt like hours longer than usual, but finally — the end of your shift came. JJ’s had ended twenty minutes earlier, being replaced by another chef whose plates were always too hot and spoke too loud, making the last stretch of your working hour even tougher. You thought JJ might have forgotten about your little arrangement, just taking off to head home or to go and smoke on the rickety little boat you’d seen him on— but lo and behold, you step out the doors to that wretched place and there he is, leaning on his bike like something out of an 80s movie.

“No helmet?” You’re grinning by the time you reach him, barely containing your excitement. You don’t think you’ve even been on the back of one of these bikes before, let alone with the boy you’re crushing on. JJ scrunches his nose, wincing.

“Wasn’t countin’ on having anyone else on board today, that’s my bad.” He helps you climb on, ensuring you’re sat securely. “I’m a good driver, you’ll be alright. Just uh— hold on tight and I’ll avoid any big potholes, yeah?” He reaches back, taking your arms and wrapping them around his middle, forcing you against his warm back. He’d probably done that for plenty of people, the way it came naturally to him— but in that moment you didn’t care, just nodding as you leant more against him. You tell him your address, and he recognises it, someone he knows living near by. With that, the two of you are off.

You’re truly in bliss, closing your eyes with your cheek pressed to his back, wind whipping past your face. He is a good driver, and you dare even let yourself believe he’s being extra careful with you on board, none of the harsh turns or skids you’ve seen him do on the streets alone. Your cheeks start to ache with how much you’re smiling.

“You all good back there my lil’ backpack?” He pats your leg in a friendly manner at a stop light and you giggle, embarrassed with how fast goosebumps break out.

“Yeah, this is fun!” You yell at an unnecessary volume to be heard over the running engine, making him chuckle and glance round at you.

“Good, that’s good.”

You’re almost sad when the ride is over, his wheels coming to a slow as he parks up haphazardly beside your front lawn. You’re quick to pat your head down, knowing that journey must have you looking dishevelled at best and hop off the bike, patting the pocket of your shorts for your keys.

“My humble abode awaits.” You chirp, cringing afterwards but he smirks and follows you regardless, pulling up his pants boyishly as he stalks behind you up to your front door. Inside your head is a chant, one that consists of hoping and praying your parents wouldn’t be home so you didn’t have to do the whole awkward explanation thing, not that you didn’t have a totally valid excuse — and you were grown, so interacting with boys shouldn’t be the awkward dilemma that it was — but to them you were still their sweet girl regardless of age, and you’d like to keep it that way, which wouldn’t be possible being spotted ushering Pogue King JJ Maybank into your bedroom.

You unlock the door, calling out a ‘hello’ to be met with miraculous silence. JJ shuffles in behind you, closing the door for you and whistling quietly. “This place is pretty fancy, yeah… bet you got like, an electric toothbrush n’shit.” He comments, neck craning to look around as he follows you slowly through the house.

You huff a laugh out your nose, cheeks pressing upwards as you stroll through toward the kitchen. “An electric toothbrush?” You question.

“Yeaaah man, kook shit.” He peers nosily at the calendar, eyeing the events your family have coming up.

You spot a note pinned to the fridge and head towards it, shaking your head. “If I was a kook I wouldn’t be working at a restaurant getting coffee poured down me. Are electric toothbrushes the pinnacle of wealth in your eyes?” You laugh quietly, pulling the note off the fridge.

“Dude in eighth grade I lost my toothbrush and for a year all I had was my finger, some toothpaste and a dream.” He chats, appearing directly behind you and plucking the note from your hand. “Out ‘til late, pizza in fridge.” He reads blankly out loud and you take it back from him, tossing it aside.

“How’d you lose a toothbrush?” You chuckle, leading him out the kitchen.

“I be in situations.” He shrugs, following you to the short flight of stairs. To his core, JJ was truly just a guy— and took very little pride in watching you climb a few steps before he joined you so that he could check out your ass.

“Bet your dentist loved you.” You comment, glancing behind you at him making his eyes snap upwards guilty. He scoffs, wiping his hands on his pants like he was worried about dirtying up your house before grasping onto the bannister, skipping a few steps to hop up.

“Yeah, like I could afford one of those.”

On the landing, you point him towards the hallway, stepping back once you realised you were practically standing on top of him. He didn’t seem to notice, or mind, staring down at you for direction. “My rooms the last door on the right. I’m gonna go toss your shirt in the dryer, ‘kay?”

He nods once, strolling in the direction you pointed him. “Yes ma’am.”

You head to the laundry room and take a moment to collect yourself, sniffing his shirt to make sure it was properly clean before stuffing it into the dryer to turn it on. You lean against its circular door as it starts up, taking a breath before realising you left JJ Maybank alone in your bedroom.

You arrive at the door to your girly haven, immediately yanking a pair of panties off the ground and throwing them into a corner as you spot the blonde by the window, curiously looking around.

“So this is where the magic happens, I assume.” He glances at you, swiping his hat off his head and placing it on your dresser. Something about his gaze and the way it continually flickered to you, waiting for an answer suggested it was a genuine question. He was asking if you were seeing anyone, perhaps. You giggle.

“And if by magic you mean napping after work and reading books, yeah. It gets so magical in here, you wouldn’t believe it.” You sit on your bed, watching him semi-awkwardly pace infront of you, running hands through his hair before stuffing them into his pockets.

“Ah yeah, ha— forgot you were a real good girl. Should stay that way, I like it— and I mean like, there’s hella weirdos round here. Y’know? Better to… steer clear.” He rambles as you watch him with a smile. At work, the blonde seemed more calm, in his element— but here, in your terrain— he seemed slightly more on edge. You tried not to read into it.

Your stomach warms at the ‘good girl’ comment, lashes fluttering only a little before he’s distracted once more. You see him gazing ahead at the shelf above your vanity, opposite the bed where all your baby photos were lined up. His smile grows, and you see the cogs turn in his head.

He strides towards it in an instant, taking the framed image off the shelf. You jump up, following him to try and save yourself the embarrassment of whatever he was looking at but it was too late. He grins, turning his head to look down at you. “Oh wow, now don’t tell me this is you?” He holds the photo up beside your head, glancing theatrically between the two to compare and you bat him away.

“Anyone ever tell you that you’re nosy?”

“Oh yeah, all the time. That, that is adorable though.” He’s immediately distracted by another photo, setting the one in his hand down to pick it up. “And who’s this?” He lifts the picture of your mother holding you as a baby.

“My mother.”

“Total fox. As expected.”

“Okay, no more for you.” You hide your amusement well, reaching out for the photo and grabbing it. He puts up little fight, letting you snatch the frame from his larger hand as he reaches for another, making a total mess of your embarrassing nostalgia display. This last picture is of you, around 5 years old— adorned in a pink princess dress and a plastic tiara, grinning at the camera.

“Aw.” He smirks, turning his body to face you. “Guess some things never change. Still a pretty princess.” You’re not sure if he’s mocking you now, because he’s tonguing at the cut on his lip which makes you gain a second heartbeat in your panties and you freeze up— which in itself is more embarrassing that this whole ordeal. He was a tease by nature he’ll admit, but this — this was fun. Seeing you get flustered was his new favourite thing.

You give him the exact reaction he’s after, failing to hide your smile as you lurch for the frame. He hides it behind his back and you stumble into him, stabilising yourself with both hands on his chest. He’s all… warm, and firm.

There’s a silence, but things are never quiet for too long with JJ. Thankfully.

“Damn, if you wanted to touch me up you could’a just asked. Pro’lly would’a said yes.” The smirk is yet to fade, infact you think it’s permanently stamped onto his mouth and your eyes widen just a smidge— scrambling for a witty comeback that didn’t make you look like a perverse idiot.

“I dunno, after you made fun of my baby pictures? Think I owe you two black eyes.” You tilt your head sweetly, proud of the response and his eyes flicker over your expression, eyes softening just a tad. Or maybe you imagined it.

“‘Think that’s a little extreme. How ‘bout a kiss instead?” You freeze, because it’s then you realise how close the two of you are still. Hes practically got you caged against your vanity, can probably hear how fast he’s got your heart beating— maybe smell the pathetic dribble of arousal seeping into your underwear just from being this close to him. You can’t tell if he’s kidding, and it seems he even caught himself a little off guard, blinking a few times during your stunned silence.

But then you look at his mouth, because asking a question like that is totally giving you permission to do so, and he takes that as an answer and leans in.

You’re so hypnotised when his mouth starts moving against yours that you nearly jump out of your skin when his large hands bracket your waist, pulling your body more flush against his. JJ was a good kisser, which lead you to indeed that he was infact— a whore. Well, maybe a former whore. Whatever, in that moment it didn’t matter— nothing mattered, just JJ and his tongue that was sliding against yours as the kiss heated up.

It feels like hours that your tongues are looping round eachother, snapped out the moment by the hungry blondes hands sliding down, your waist in his grip becomes suddenly your ass cheeks through your shorts, squeezing and pulling you against him practically lifting your entire body. It’s then you realise you having a working voice box, because you let out the most pathetic mewl you’ve ever heard yourself make. Even more pathetic than the noises you made only a few nights ago from your own hand.

He groans back almost as like a response, and with that — finally, he manoeuvres you to start walking backwards towards the very bed you fell apart on at the thought of what you were currently doing, or about to do. Your lips detach when the backs of your knees hit the bed, falling to sit down at the edge of it with a few bounces. He stares down at you for a couple of seconds, disorientated and sore-mouthed like even he can’t believe what’s happening— before he jumps into action. Jittery and clumsily like he always is.

“Should probably uh— if we’re gonna get on the bed I don’t wanna— poke you with somethin’” He stuffs his hands into his pockets, unloading them. His phone, his keys, earphones, cigarettes, wallet, other random knickknacks that would otherwise make you raise an eyebrow if you weren’t already so dazed by him. He’s about to return to you, before his mouth forms an ‘o’ shape, as if he just remembered something — and he reaches into the back of his pants, pulling up the shirt that hung over his waistband to there retrieve his gun. He holds it up with a smile that said ‘How silly of me!’

You gape. “JJ, why do you have that?”

He shuffles some things around on your vanity, scrambling to make space for the piece. “Uh, had to bring it home today… lemme just… set that down there.” He places it next to your jewellery stand, the contrast in the items almost making you laugh in disbelief. “The old problem solver.” He mutters, giving it a fond pat before turning back to you, happy to carry on.

“What if my parents were to come home and see that?” You challenge with a pout, not too keen about him bringing a weapon into your house. He huffs out a smirk, leaning back down to where you’re sat, hands on your shoulders as he slowly lays you down.

“Think they’d be a little more concerned about the dirty pogue on top of their little girl, but y’know…” His words get lower and lazier as he draws in before locking his lips onto yours again, this time wasting no time with introducing his tongue.

You’re back in the zone, gun long forgotten within seconds— running your hands through his hair, over his strong arms, touching everywhere you’ve wanted to touch since you started working at the restaurant. Well, not everywhere.

He’s not holding back on being handsy either, body slotted between your legs after he lifts you further up the bed, grappling at your thighs, hips, and eventually tits. You can’t blame him, there’s desperation behind both of your actions — the fact you’d both wanted this for a while now slowly becoming clear. Your heart thumps hard at this realisation, suddenly less able to breathe and you pull back panting, breath trembling.

His eyes flicker over your face, watching your wet mouth as you ramble. “Wanted— mmph— wanted this for a while.”

He drags his lips over your cheek, pressing his hips against yours and you can feel him hardening. It does little to help you calm down. “Yeah, same… Is it… uh, is it weird I kinda didn’t want you to wash the shirt before givin’ it back to me?” He smiles, dropping another toothy peck to your mouth as his hands continue feeling you up.

Your eyes flutter closed once more when he softly grinds his bulge against your cunt, your knees tightening against his hips as you let out a silent moan, lips parted.

“H-had to. I slept in it.” You admit before you think, brain focused on other things. He laughs quietly against your jaw, smoothing his tongue over the now bitten skin.

“Aw, you did?” He creates some space between the two of you, his hand very slowly starting to trail down your body, past your stomach. “You got it so bad for me, huh?” He teases and you whine, openly and pathetically— spoiled and childish even. JJ didn’t seem the type to talk about his feelings easily, but teasing you for yours was outright mean.

“Shutup.” Comes with the whine, your breath catching pathetically as you feel the rumble of him slowly unzipping your shorts zipper at your crotch, lips detaching from your jaw for a second to look at what he’s doing, still chuckling.

“Thats rude.” He grins, quiet and lighthearted, elated when you start helping him pull your shorts down and kicking them carelessly off. If he wasn’t so desperate to get his hands on you, he would have taken more time to appreciate your cute little cotton panties with the bow on top. They were so you, exactly the sort he pictured you wearing, moreso pictured you soaking through the way you were now.

His hand slides over the length of your covered cunt, all but cupping you and pushing his fingers over the embarrassing amount of wetness on the fabric. “What else did you do in the shirt, hm? Talk me through it babe.”

He’s teasing you, not truly expecting much of an answer as he genuinely believed a sweet girl like you wouldn’t have the gall to do anything but sleep in his shirt. His lips trail down the centre column of your neck, and it bobs with a harsh swallow. Now, his interest is piqued.

“Can’t say!” You whimper, eyes screwed up, legs spreading wider as he gently thumbs at your clit through the fabric, just enough to stimulate you. You feel him remove his mouth from you, lifting his head into your direct eyeline with an amused raise of the brow.

“Well now sweetheart, you’re just gonna have to tell me.” His fingers tuck into the leg hole of your panties, like he wants to pull it aside but won’t. You realise he’s still watching you, waiting for an answer and that he’s not gonna go further until you speak. “Don’t be shy, tell Papa J what you—”

“Touched myself. I touched myself.” You release all in one breath. Now it’s his turn to ogle you, completely off guard. If he wasn’t hard as a rock before, he certainly was now. Probably leaking in his boxers too from how things felt down there. This was poor performance from him, he thought at the back of his mind. This fucked so early on? Shit, he knew he liked you but c’mon.

He peels your panties to the side and you squeak, the boy making no effort to touch you still— just letting the cool air of your room grace your glossy folds.

“And why would you do something like that, baby?” He noses at your cheek, trying to get you to open your eyes. You squeeze them harder before fluttering them open, so hot in the face and embarrassed when you find his gaze you think you might just die.

“Because I like you.” You whisper. It’s sweet, just like he thought you’d be when the time comes. He smiles, dimple deepening as his free hand cups your cheek.

“Because you like me.” He repeats in affirmation. It’s a little smug, he’ll admit — but having his dream girl beneath him had his ego on ten, what can he say. He slides two fingers through your wetness, dragging what he collected up your clit and circling it making you arch your back. “Gotta say, the feelings definitely mutual.”

He kisses you again, and this time it feels like something else. Like a confession, a proposal of some sort. It’s passionate, overwhelming in the best way, intimate — as his fingers start to move, stroking your clit and making your legs tremble in adrenaline.

As you writhe and moan beneath him, his lips swallowing as many as he can, unable to stay away— his other hand starts to slide up your work shirt. You wished you’d been wearing something sexier the first time the two of you got it on, but clearly it sort of did something for him.

If the speed at which he located and stimulated your clit wasn’t enough to convince you that the boy definitely had experience, it would be the way his hand slides around to your back, unhooking your bra singlehandedly. You can’t help but giggle through your whimpers and you’re not sure why, but he smiles too— murmuring “Party trick.” against your mouth. The smile is wiped from your face when his digit glides around your hole, as if lapping up all the wetness and then pushing in— all the way to the knuckle.

You moan and tense up a little, it’s been a while and your own fingers were definitely smaller than his. At your reaction. he pulls back only slightly— a look of concern poorly masked on his face.

“Are you… have you uh, been with a guy before? Or is this…”

“One guy, a while back. Not good at all.” You sigh and he nods patiently, lips twitching up when he starts to move his finger and your eyes flutter involuntarily. “Think I can work with that.”

He twists his wrist a little, working you with just one finger as he paws at your free’d tit, sucking on your tongue. You moan, the sound of your own wetness having its own presence in the room and he hums, pulling back to look down at the way you’re sucking his middle finger in.

“So pretty, you’ve been holdin’ out on me baby. Should be a crime to hide this cute little pussy, damn.” He whispers and you whine in preemptive embarrassment to the way you clench around him, making him chuckle again. “Oh yeah? She liked that, huh?”

“More, please—” You nearly choke on your own swallow as you lift your head, looking down at the way he’s got you spread out. Reaching downwards you gently tug at his wrist, not quite sure of the aim. “N—‘nother one.” You pant. Jeez, already totally fucked dumb and he hasn’t even made you cum. You were going to give JJ Maybank an even bigger head.

He doesn’t say anything, just sinks two fingers into your cunt and you make a noise he’s only heard in amateur porn videos from Twitter, dick usually nestled in his fist. He presses his lips together in a quiet ‘Mhm’ and your hands are back on him, desperate once more to consume him wholly.

Your nails rake through his hair as he finds his rhythm, tonguing at the cut on his lip with wide observant eyes that flicker between your face and your cunt. “Look at you go.” He responds to a moan— but JJ being JJ knows he can do better, which is why he stops thumbing at your nipple and pushes his hand into the bed instead, using the weight on his arm to start sliding down your body.

The first kiss against your stomach catches you off guard, and if you weren’t so dizzy from pleasure you might wanna think about it more. He repositions his hand, stroking your inner thigh as he pushes them wider apart and shushes you, now face to face with your glistening pussy. His fingers slow their movements for a moment.

“She’s real pretty.” His fingers slide out so he can make messy doing of spreading your folds with his fingers, licking his already wet lips.

“Thank you.” You mewl happily, eyes watery as they gaze down at him like he hung the moon and stars for you.

“You’re so sweet.” He smiles genuinely and fairly innocently up at you as he strokes your thigh affectionately— before of course counteracting that by shooting out a thick bubbling glob of spit directly onto your clit, making your jaw drop. Lifting your thighs, he murmurs. “So sweet you get me hard. S’kinda unfair… at work.” Before he chases the spit with the flat of his tongue, bringing the muscle up to then wrap his lips around your clit and suck.

No noise can leave you for a few seconds, brows furrowed and jaw dropped in a silent moan until he forces the noise out of you by stuffing his fingers back inside your weeping hole.

“Oh— oh, JJ!” Your toes curl and in record time you feel your first orgasm approaching. It’s different from the ones you give yourself, it’s a ball of fire in your stomach and heat licking up your spine, eyes even watering at the exertion.

“Yeah say my name, c’mon.” He coaches you, moving his tongue faster like he’s competing with himself to make you cum.

“JJ, mmpph— feels— it feels—” You nearly sob.

“How’s it feel?”

“M’gonna—”

“Cum, babydoll. I got you.”

White noise. Like, almost the sounds of waves crashing. It doesn’t really feel like you’re a person anymore — but one thing is for certain. You have never cum like that in your life. You must of been on autopilot, moaning and whining pathetically, slurring out nonsense and maybe a twisted version of his name— but when you come back to Earth you’re near hyperventilating.

You slap at his shoulders with shaky hands because his lips are still latched onto your pulsing nub, fingers still squelching and working the release out of you. “Ok—okay, Jayj— please!” You let out a pathetic little cry and he eases up, pushing himself off you with a satisfied hum and grinning cheekily, letting you push out his fingers. You suck in shaky breaths, letting him soak in the moment by bringing his fingers to his mouth and cleaning them off.

“Better than anything I make, can tell you that.” He jokes. “Taste that shit, s’fuckin’ delicious.” He eases his fingers into your mouth, letting you suck off the remains with a humiliated mewl before removing them, leaning over you to kiss you. God, it’s embarrassing how much you soaked his face. Really, how it ended up on his forehead— you wasn’t sure. You were too focused on your own taste he was forcing into your mouth with his tongue, purposeful and cocky, making sure to roll his own wet muscle over your tastebuds so that you never forget who made you cum that hard.

It’s then, and only then he realises you’re freaking a little and lets you off for a break, cupping your cheek as he pulls back. “Are you good?” He chuckles and you inhale deeply, still trembling. You’re not sure what he does, because everything’s all hazy but he manhandles you a little until he’s cradling you in strong biceps, brow creased. “Did I go too hard? I may— may have gotten a lil’ carried away there. My apologies.” He holds up a hand that wasn’t cradling you.

“Was just— haven’t — it’s never felt like that before. Never felt that good.” You admit, which brings back his dimple and that sickeningly soft look in his eyes.

“What can I say, you deserve the best there is when it comes to receiving orgasms, and I,” He presses his mouth back on yours, kissing you between each word. “Am the best, there, is, at, giving them.” On the last kiss you lean into it, holding him there, as you’re ambushed by an unexpected feeling.

Some kind of surge in your stomach, like butterflies but bigger, your heart pounding. If you weren’t so dazed you’d be worried the L word was coming to doom you early. The feeling made you wrap your legs around his waist and pull him back ontop of you, jean clad bulge pressed back against your sensitive heat as you moan, high pitched and happy against him.

He pulls back to make some kind of joke, maybe a comment about your recovery time but you beat him to the chase, staring up into his dilated pupils with love hearts occupying your own. “Wanna make you feel good, Jayj.”

“You—how—”

You suckle on your bottom lip, hand bravely travelling down to cup the bulge that was calling to attention in his jeans. His breath catches in his throat, lips parting to let out a quiet and surprised groan.

“I’ve never—” Your face is hot again. “Never given a blow job before but—”

“Next time. Yeah? If you’ll let me I kinda just… wanna fuck you.” He smirks and hides it in your jawline, almost too shy in the moment to look you in the eye. Your brows furrow with a silent whimper at his words.

“Next time?” You mewl happily like you’re floating on air. At this he pulls back, a hopeful grin.

“If you’ll have me, that is. Figured I should take you out on a real date.”

You don’t have time to respond, he doesn’t let you— perhaps out of nerves. Instead, he’s working your panties that had been pushed to the side down your legs, followed by pulling your tshirt over your head. “Peekaboo, there she is.” He smiles quietly and you giggle, thinking back to the time at the locker where he pulled his shirt over your head. You toss your loose bra away from the bed, now laying bare beneath him.

He sits back on his knees, hands instinctually lifting to his head like he wanted to fix his hat, a habit you noticed of his that would occur when he’s overwhelmed or in awe. He settles on running his hands through the blonde tresses instead, big goofy smile on his face.

“Holy shit. I mean like — holy shit.” He breathes and you turn your head shyly, then reaching out to tug at his shirt.

“You too.” You gesture to his shirt and he offs it within a second, not wanting to look away from your naked body from a minute. Once his hands are free again, he’s sliding them up to your chest, greedily massaging your tits in both hands.

“Fuck, you are so fine. I mean like I think I nearly came in my pants.” He admits quietly and you tug at his belt, having to remind him of what you were actually doing.

“C’mon, Jayj— want you to fuck me!” You whine, all doe eyes and pouts, not even registering how pathetic and desperate the sentiment was — only making his cock throb harder. He buckles slightly, like it physically pains him and he nods quickly, fumbling with his belt until he could pull his jeans down just enough to release himself.

It’s long, pink and pretty like you expected — pearly precum gathering at his tip. He grasps it infront of you, eyes flickering between yours and his dick, suddenly looking hesitant. “So uh, this is what m’ working with.” He announces awkwardly, overthinking everything — but it doesn’t matter because you’re wrapping a delicate hand round it, guiding him to your entrance.

“Woah there missy, okay uh— hold your horses. This job don’t pay either of us enough for you to get knocked up.” He side rolls off the bed hobbling over to the dresser for his wallet, retrieving a condom and returning. You would have laughed, but you get all embarrassed and teary eyed about how overly eager you’d been.

“Sorry. I wasn’t thinkin’.” You pout and his eyes flutter up to yours, kneeling between your legs.

“Hey? You’re good.” He tears the packet open with his teeth and you clench around nothing. “You’re good.” He repeats, stroking your thigh as he eases the rubber onto his cock. “Still up for it, babe?”

You bite your lip with a sniffly giggle, nodding and he grins himself, laying on top of you to press a sloppy kiss to your mouth. He pulls away, and he lines himself up before slowly easing himself in.

Your legs around his waist hug him tighter and your toes curl at the stretch, wincing. “You got it.” He encourages, voice breathier like it teetered on a moan which only made you flutter around him.

“S’big, JJ.” You whimper and he huffs against your neck.

“I— thanks.”

Once he’s in, he’s in — and you can see how his fingers and tongue were only just the appetiser. He fucks like it’s the last time, like his life depends on it— rolling his hips, his hands somehow in ten places at once, his tongue — oh his tongue, it’s in your mouth, then down your neck, then looping around your nipple making you clench and whine and cry.

He starts to speed up, unable to control himself as his hands slide under your lower back to hold you, thumbing at your waist. “Shit, shit, shit.” He grits his teeth, having to contain himself there and then from cumming when he sees the way your tits bounce beneath him. “Takin’ that shit so good, huh? Jesus baby.” He wrinkles his nose in exertion, panting.

“S’just so good, JJ— mmph!”

“Yeah? Y’gonna think of this everytime I see you, shit, everytime I see you in the kitchen? Givin’ me those big sexy fuck me eyes everytime I hand you a plate? Shit baby, pretty little waitress, huh. N’ you’re all mine now. So freakin’ lucky.” Hes rambling, nonsensical— already pussy drunk.

You’re in ecstasy. Not only from how he felt, but from how you were making him feel. It occurred to you that no one seems to talk about the validation you receive from finally getting to fuck your crush, watching them come apart over you. You wanted more, wanted to impress him.

In a trance, you push at his stomach, shuffling upwards so he reluctantly pulls out, concern on his clammy face. You fumble, rolling onto your front, sticking your ass in the air, looking over your shoulder.

“Please.” You plead, and you’re not sure what for— but it works, the blonde puffing out his cheeks with a dramatic exhale, lining himself behind you and pushing in. “Gonna be the death of me, babydoll.”

You may have overestimated your abilities, crying pathetically when he bottoms out, his cock feeling ten times it’s size from this angle.

“Arch that back baby, there you go, just like that.” He whispers, pressing down on your lower back making you sob. You fuck back against him, pressing your cheek to your pillow, fingers curling into it for security. “Good girl, that’s right.” He drops a hand beneath you, finding your clit once more and as a surprise ambush, you cum— suddenly and embarrassingly, gushing around his cock leaving a ring of cream at his base.

He doesn’t stop this time, giving you a moment to catch your breath as you whine and mewl like a distressed kitten. No, if anything — he goes harder, his own release on the precipice. The bed is creaking now, wooden headboard smacking the wall as he leans his weight on the back of your arms, pelvis slapping against your ass. Little squeaks are punched out of you with each thrust, and when you think he’s reached a crescendo— he slows.

“Fuck, fuck turn around baby. Need to see that pretty face to cum, c’mon.” He pants in one breath, fighting you back onto your back and sliding back in with ease this time, pushing one knee up to your chest and rolling his hips, eyes squeezed shut.

He tries to keep them open, eyes everywhere— your tits, your big wet eyes, your lips. Like he can’t help himself, he sloppily cups your cheek, a thumb brushing your bottom lip. Wanting to help him along in your post orgasm brain-fog, your tongue peeks out, trying to catch the finger as he bounces you on his cock. Once you’ve got it, you wrap your lips around it, sucking with devotion and love hearts in your eyes.

“Oh my— god” He whimpers, finally dropping his cheek to your chest as he ruts into you, spilling his seed. You moan at the feeling, scratching at his back and fluttering around him. The butterflies return.

After ten minutes, you’re laying on his thick bicep— his blunt fingernails scratching your scalp at the bottom of your skull. The dryer beeps distantly, signifying that it’s completed its cycle.

Maybank is staring at you, like he’s trying to memorise your face, like it’s the last time he’ll ever see you. An amused smile breaks out onto your face, trying to hide it in his arm as you press a kiss there. At this, a grin spreads on his own face, questioning.

“You know… I do actually have an electric toothbrush.”

“I freaking knew it.”

#linecook!jj #jj maybank fic 🎀

[long-live-astronerd-ghost-king]

DPXDC prompt. Ghost King uses Uno Reverse Card

Ghosts are not a race of evil creatures that most people think they are. And Danny was really happy when the Infinite Realms were able to make peace treaties with most countries of the human world. Ghosts, however, are a very vindictive race. At least that’s how young Phantom explained himself to Batman afterwards.

It just so happens that a couple of hours before the event aimed at expanding intergalactic unions most of the JLeague members due to an emergency call went on a mission. Which means people who had any authority in Phantom’s eyes became unavailable for a while.

So Shazam and Phantom as the most known outside the Earth were assigned to greet the guests and most importantly to entertain the visitors until the founders of JL return.

According to Phantom, Batman, being such a good detective with a bunch of backup plans, should have known that Danny’s favorite cereal ran out this morning, that he was late for first class, and that after school he had a fight with his parents. No, seriously, aren’t so-called scientists supposed to be able to admit mistakes in their own judgment? Danny got tired of being constantly ashamed of their behavior near other ghosts. It's bad enough that his authority as a ruler is sustained only by the support of those Ancients with whom he maintains friendly relations. Average citizens still doubt that he is a is sufficient to claim the throne. He’s had enough of being accused of not being a full-fledged ghost.  He’s not ready to hear rumors that he supports his parents' racist judgments too. In short, his day sucked. And all his ghostly nature now wanted to do something nasty to his neighbors to get rid of the tension.

Alien leader stretched out a hand to Phantom and Shazam. “Your Majesty Phantom, Champion of Magic. It’s an honor to meet you. I hope I learned the proper greeting gesture of the local intelligent race.”

And with that Danny’s reserve of conscience ran out. It’s a perfect moment to feed his need to be a little shit.

“The local intelligent race?’ Danny had this extreme bewilderment on his face. “Which one do you think..? Earth was the home of the Gods and of various inhabitants of the galaxy but it was a long time ago.”

Woman is clearly confused. Great. “E-Earthers. I think they’re called that.”

“Earthlings, intelligent race? You must be mistaken.” Danny faked a giggle. “Who told you that crap?”

“Phantom, what are you doing?” Batman hissed at him from an earpiece. Danny turned the sound off with a clear conscience. “I mean, seriously, there’s not a single serious study in the science library in this galaxy or any other galaxy that says humans are intelligent. Shazam, do you think they’re..?”

For some reason, Billy immediately remembered watching a man spend his entire salary on lottery tickets last week. And of course he was careless enough to shake his head and snort. That was all Phantom needed.

“Exactly. Earthlings don’t have to be intelligent to mimic the behavior of more evolved species. Surely you are well aware that Martians and Kryptonians, and many others have visited Earth at different stages of human development. My supervisor Clockwork and I have long been observing this strange species. In many ways, their behavior resembles a mixture of instinctive reactions of specimens from the 126 sectors of the nearest SBc Galaxy and several other creatures from planets of the galaxy KV59. However, even I, as an anthropologist with extensive experience of observing human species in their natural habitat, still have to explore and discover many of their secrets.”

“I do not understand. According to the documents among the delegation that greets us there are Earthlings. I mean I don’t question the scientific evidence of a respected Chronos or you, but why then..”

“Of course you don’t! It’s really quite simple. For the purity of the clinical experiment, which we are conducting now, it is necessary that Earthlings feel themselves ostensibly full participants of the «society» consisting of members with developed intelligence.”

“So, any luck, colleague?” Shazam, who realized that Batman would now skin them anyway, decided to at least participate in this theater so that the punishment would be at least deserved.

“Well, we’ve certainly come up with some interesting preliminary insights about the adaptive capacity of the human brain in limited contact with Martians. Of course, humans do not have real emotions to be full participants in communication, but their attempts and zeal are very inspiring.”

~~~~~

Meanwhile, Fentons watching a live broadcast of what was supposed to be an interplanetary friendship encounter are beginning to realize that if trying to punish a rebellious human teenager has always been difficult for them, the attempt to control the behavior of the 14 y/o half-ghost may become a nightmare not only for them.

Jack: Honey, I think Danny’s still a little upset about our old theories about the ability of ghosts to feel or think.

Jazz, sitting between them with the face of a man resigned to the chaos around her, could not restrain the sarcasm: Really? Why would you think that?

#dpxdc #dcxdp #dpxdc prompt #dpxdc crossover #ghost king au #ghost king danny

[uglyducklingofthe2000s]

Hi! Please can you write a lando meet-cute where the reader gets a flat tire and is standard somewhere, and lando sees her and helps. She doesn’t know who he is and he loves that and they just hit it off straight away. Maybe he like gives her his jacket bc she’s cold and stuff whilst he fixes the car. Just fluff I guess🥰 this will probably be short haha

"I'm an Independent Woman" "I Can See That" - LN

I know you want cute fluff, and you're going to get it but I have to add in the tiniest little bit of like sass. But LOTS of fluff, promise. Also I might...be willing to do a part 2 if people want. IDK if you will but maybe.

Warnings: hungover/drunk driving (I'm adding this after someone did point out in the replies this might be controversial or upsetting, but I apologise to anyone who read this fic before I've added this warning as it hadn't crossed my mind to add it initially)

Driving along in her beat up poor little Peugeot 106, it's just her luck that on a day so cold that the weatherman said "it's too cold for snow" that she'd get a puncture on a random road in the middle of nowhere.

She's on her way home from her brother's house warming party yesterday, so she's already feeling pretty rough.

"Fucking puncture...really?" Y/n groans kicking the tyre before trying to call her brother since she can't possibly change a tyre.

But thanks to being in the middle of nowhere, she doesn't have a single bar of signal. Meaning she's going to have to approach this all on her own.

"Ahhh...no." Y/n whines feeling like having a full tantrum because her brother and sister-in-law decided the only way to give them a proper house warming would be to get absolutely bladdered. So she's looking rough and the last thing she needed is to be stranded and attempting to change her tyre.

She does manage to get the spare tyre out and all the tools necessary since her dad has always made sure she's got everything she needs in her boot should such an event happen.

Now admittedly, she starts crying, clouding her vision as she tries to use the wheel jack to get the car up. The hangover and the cold is getting to her and figuring out the wheel jack is just adding to her misery.

It's only when a wave of nausea hits her that she jumps up sprinting to the ditch on the other side of the car, her stomach lurching and a significant amount of semi-digested alcohol reappearing. The taste alone making her gag yet again and more comes up.

"Ehhh...are you ok?" A voice asks suddenly making her jump enough that she nearly ends up in the puddle of her own sick, only narrowly dodging it as she grips her car. "Sorry, I didn't mean to scare you."

The amusement in his tone is very evident and y/n turns around glaring, though admittedly even in her hungover, nauseous state she can't deny the man is gorgeous.

"No, it's ok. I'm fine." Y/n murmurs while he nods and a silence falls for a moment.

"Do you need some help?"

Y/n pauses trying to get her brain to clear of fog and figure out how he could help her.

"Oh-with the tyre. Oh well, I think I've got it. I mean I was just getting the jack up." Y/n explains moving around on very wobbly legs.

Should she even be driving? Is she still drunk? Maybe for both is her conclusion. One thing is for certain, she shouldn't be trying to change a tyre right now.

"Do you want some help?" The man asks changing his question from need to want. "I'm pretty good with cars."

Considering her options, there's no lower form that he can possibly see her in. She looks rough, she's in a hoodie and joggers, both borrowed from her brother. He caught her being sick in a ditch and she can feel the stickiness of her tears drying on her face.

"I mean even if you steal my shit heap of a car. I don't think anything can make this day any worse." Y/n states while the stranger smiles a little. "I'm y/n, just so you have a name to tell people when you relay this story. I know I would."

"Lando. Nice to meet you." The brunette nods holding out his hand to shake hers which she does before they move around the car and she catches sight of the very expensive looking sports car that is pulled up in front of her own.

"Oh fuck...if that's your car I have nothing to worry about when it comes to stealing mine." Y/n murmurs earning a small laugh as the man crouches to jack the car up a bit more. "I could do it myself. I am an independent woman."

No question. Her dumbass is still drunk. She definitely should not be trying to drive right now.

"I can see that." Lando nods while y/n looks at him for a moment while he is focused on looking at the tyre.

"Sorry."

Lando looks at her again, clearly very much amused.

"I'm going to change this and I'm going to give you a ride to wherever you need to get to because I don't think you should be behind a wheel." Lando states with a very kind smile while y/n sighs softly feeling like this man is already being too kind to her.

"I think it's better if I just shut up." Y/n murmurs while sitting down, leaning against the door and watching Lando make changing a tyre look significantly easier than she was going to make it look. All while she pulls her knees to her chest and rests the side of her head on top of her knees as she watches him.

"Alright, you're all set." Lando smiles once he's done while she manages a weak smile of gratitude for him. "Are you ok?"

"I think so." She nods softly before swallowing then smiling when he offers her both his hands to help her up to her feet. "Thank you. It probably would've taken me an hour to change that myself."

"It's fine. It was pretty obvious you needed some help." Lando chuckles then sighing. "Do you want to grab anything you need from the car and I'll give you lift?"

"Yeah, I'll get that." She nods moving to open the car to grab her bag and jacket before locking the car. "Thank you-again."

"You can stop thanking me." Lando smiles as he opens his passenger door for her. "I'm happy to help."

Her face flushes far too easily and she climbs into the car trying to use her jacket to hide it as he closes the door and moves around the bonnet to get in the driver's seat.

There's a bit of silence for a while before y/n remembers she needs to give him a place to take her.

"Ummm...if you go to Goldworths Park and I'll direct you from there." Y/n murmurs earning a nod from the brunette. "So...do you worth with cars? Like a mechanic?"

Lando had figured she hadn't recognised him but if he did have any doubts he's not got them now.

"I work with cars, but I'm actually a driver." He explains making her look at him, definitely confused.

"Like a taxi driver."

Now that nearly makes Lando snort from laughter. He doesn't feel any point in hiding his profession. This girl has already somewhat can't him in the feels from just how funny she is. Even if he's sort of laughing at her more than with her. It's just the unfiltered thoughts and comments that are so funny, although he's almost certain they're entirely because of anything other than she's clearly still very much drunk from whatever she was drinking for.

"No. Have you heard for Formula 1?"

"Yes, they race around-oh fuck. Oh fuck...no god, please tell me you are not a formula 1 driver. Please tell me I did not look so pathetic about changing a tyre in front of a formula 1 driver." Y/n groans sinking down into the seat despite her seatbelt trying to keep her in place. "Oh god, and I didn't even recognise you! Christ, I'm so sorry."

"It's fine, honestly it's fine. It's nice to just meet someone on the side of the road, help them and not have them treat me any different than they would any other stranger."

"Well usually I'd say I need to repay someone for their help. But I don't really know how I could possibly try to repay you for literally rescuing me." Y/n sighs making Lando smirk a little as he looks forward but she bites her tongue to stop her curiosity from asking what he's smirking about.

"I'm sure I could think of something. Might have to get your number so when I think of what repayment I want, I can contact you." Lando states unknowingly making y/n's mouth dry out. Is he flirting with her? Or is this the alcohol still working it's magic in making her brain incapable of working properly?

But eventually she manages to find her voice again.

"Yeah, eh yeah I can give you my number." She nods swallowing back the dryness to the best of her ability.

Lando suddenly picks up his phone unlocking it with Face ID before handing it over to the young woman.

"Just add yourself."

Y/n bites her lip for a moment being quite nervous to have such access in someone's phone. Especially someone who is almost certainly told to not be so eager to share something that has to have private information on it.

What really surprises her is Lando doesn't seem to have all that many contacts. He has a lot compared to her but she expected there to be a lot more.

"I'm going to save myself under a name that isn't my name so you have to try to figure out which contact I am to get the repayment."

"You are going to make me work to find you in my contacts?" Lando laughs clearly more than amused by the whole idea of her making it a little hard.

"Only because you arrived at the worst possible moment to see me spewing my stomach up." Y/n murmurs still completely embarrassed about the whole situation. "Trust me to meet some rich man in the worst state I've been in for years...I'm going to kill my brother."

"Oh so this is your brother's fault?" Lando questions in amusement.

"Yes! He is a bad influence. The man buys a house, has a house warming and try to kill me with alcohol poisoning by letting me drink the better part of a bottle of vodka and a third of a bottle of rum."

"You definitely should not have been driving." Lando laughs shaking his head but there's a slight tone in his voice that suggests he really means it.

"No. Probably how I got the bloody puncture." Y/n sighs while typing her number and coming up with a name that will probably make her easier to find than if she had bothered to put her actual name.

They manage to shift the conversation and Lando gets her talking a bit more about her life, they get to the point in the journey where she begins directing him til they get to her apartment.

"Well thanks for the tyre change, the rescue and the lift home. When you find my number and I've hopefully recovered." Y/n smiles before she looks at him for a moment. "Really, thank you. It is very nice of you and you really didn't have to do it."

"No. I didn't have to." Lando smiles then shrugging. "You're welcome. I got your number out of it and a repayment of my choosing-once you've recovered of course."

#f1 #fanfic #formula 1 #lando norris #lando norris x reader #lando norris imagine #lando norris x y/n #lando #lando x reader #norris #lando norris imagines #lando norris one shot #lando norris fluff #lando norris x you #lando norris fic #lando norris fanfic #ln4 x y/n #ln4 #ln4 x reader #ln4 imagine #ln4 fluff #ln4 fic #mclaren f1 #mclaren #mclaren formula 1 #ln4 one shot #ln4 fanfic #mclaren racing

[ssahotchnerr]

hi babe! was wondering if you could write something abt hotch + reader having their daughter’s first birthday and all of the team is there and it’s so cute and we get big brother jack.

maybe it including light bickering between them but it’s so clear they love each other so much still and it really is just pointless bickering. something fluffy for sure.

up to you! i trust your wonderful writing , thank u bunches !

- 🕷️ [is this anon emoji taken yet? oops if it is!]

take the bench

AHH that's so adorable 🥹 cw; fem!reader, jack calls reader mom, domestic banter <3 and aaron being very dad <3

"are you kidding, look how cute!" you exclaimed, holding up the little outfit for all to see. your daughter's tiny hands immediately made a grab at it. "this is perfect for spring."

"after two boys, i can't express enough how fun it is shopping for a girl." jj gushed, resting her chin comfortably on her hand. "new section of the store unlocked."

all had gathered for baby girl's very first birthday, and it's been quite the eventful afternoon. lively conversations, a plentiful spread of food, cake on the horizon.

currently your daughter was sat comfortably on your lap, while you orchestrated the whole present-opening extravaganza.

at her young age, she could pull the tissue paper out of the gift bags as instructed, you and jack helped with the actual paper ripping as needed. whether it was you tearing off a starter piece, or jack proudly fulfilling his big brother duties - simply unwrapping it entirely himself and excitably showing his sister what she had received.

and meanwhile, aaron had the most dad job: trash bag duty. it was right up his alley naturally, being sure to punctually collect the scraps of paper before they touched the ground; preventing a mess at all costs.

which ultimately, led up to a new game.

"jack," aaron grabbed his son's focus, holding the bag open and jack caught on instantly. he grinned, balling up and throwing the tissue paper in hand in aaron's direction.

it started off gentle; quiet cheers when jack made the shot, not to mention the growing smiles on both ends. but then it soon turned into them firing off at each other, a bit too aggressive in the constraints of the living room. jack's laughter heightened with each throw, and henry even began to join in from time to time.

while still enamored by the gifts, all thanks to her brother and father's volume, baby girl's attention was quickly drawn to them. she let out a high pitched squeal every time wrapping paper flew over her head and through the air, attempting to wiggle her way off your lap.

as much as you loved aaron and jack carelessly enjoying themselves, and the addictive giggles emitting from your daughter, you also didn't want to take the focus away from everyone's generous gifts. they had spent time, and money, and deserved the proper recognition in return.

"aaron." you warned lightly, raising an eyebrow when his gaze shot to yours - a silent, but loving nonetheless, quit it.

"alright bud," aaron caught the last makeshift ball from jack with his hand, shoving it into the trash. "take the bench. the ref is giving me that look."

"but dad-"

"you heard me. and your mother."

jack let out a small whine, but promptly complied. he returned to the stack of his sister's presents, shifting through and looking for the next one to give her.

"for someone on clean up duty, you sure are making quite the mess." you teased once you caught aaron's eyes again, jack placing the next gift in front of you, "a larger one, if i may add."

"mess isn't in my vocabulary." aaron quipped right back, a delightfully smug look on his face. "you shouldn't be the one talking."

you cocked your head to the side, comically, "oh?"

"who's side of the closet is currently exploding?"

"who's sock drawer has seen better days?"

"the parents are fightingggg." derek stretched out his voice, murmuring humorously under his breath and nudging penelope with an elbow. while the soft tone, his statement was for all to hear.

now, it was your turn to (lightly, as to not jostle baby girl) chuck a ball of wrapping paper at him. derek ducked, barely, laughing loudly as he straightened his posture back upright.

"good try, but not good enough mamas. you gotta work on your aim."

"see, i'm not making a mess." aaron teased as he came near to grab it off the carpet, taking a detour as well to give your lips a quick peck. "you have that title perfectly under control, darling."

you playfully rolled your eyes, a smile dancing its way onto your lips. aaron couldn't resist the sight, kissing you once more. "oh bite me, hotchner."

#aaron hotchner x reader #aaron hotchner #aaron hotchner fluff #aaron hotchner x you #aaron hotchner x fem!reader #aaron hotch x reader #aaron hotchner imagine #criminal minds #criminal minds x reader #criminal minds x you #criminal minds drabble #aaron hotchner drabble #criminal minds imagine #criminal minds fanfiction #hotch imagine #criminal minds x fem!reader

[moonstruckme]

Hey I don’t know if you’re taking requests but if not just ignore this :) but if so could you write a poly!emt marauders fic where readers sick or something’s wrong but she doesn’t tell them or anyone until she gets semi seriously hurt

FYI your fics are literally my favorites they are so good I’ve been binging all your marauders fics <33

Thank you gorgeous!

cw: fainting, nausea, mention of skipping a meal

(also note: I used celsius because they’re british, but for my american homies 39.5 is just over 103 degrees fahrenheit)

emt!marauders x fem!reader ♡ 1.5k words

Your day has been hazy. You knew you were off before you even left the house, the lazy sluggishness of sleep not wearing off the way it normally does, but you couldn’t afford to pay it any mind. Your work had gotten done slower than usual, frustrating for all the effort you put into it. The thought of lunch made your stomach churn, so you had mint tea during your break instead. The joints in your fingers ached from typing. Even now, sitting on the barstool at your kitchen counter while you try and finish up an assignment that really should have been done hours ago, your back seems stiffer than usual. Your bones hurt. 

“That’s far too much onion,” Sirius comments from the stool beside you, leaning across the counter to scrutinize James and Remus’ work in the kitchen. 

Remus pauses in dumping a cutting board full of chopped onion into the pan on the stove. You see him look at James in your periphery, and even without paying proper attention you know something passes between them. James takes the cutting board from Remus, scraping the remainder of the onion in with a knife. 

“Overruled,” he decrees. 

Sirius scoffs, leaning back and crossing his arms. “Have fun kissing me tonight.” 

“I’d think if we’re all eating it, we’ll be on fairly equal footing in that regard,” Remus points out. 

“Yes, equally foul-smelling. So romantic.” 

“Angel,” James says as he starts slicing up bell peppers, “do you plan on working on that all night?” 

“Almost done,” you murmur, trying to ignore how nauseous the smell of all the food makes you. You squint into the brightness of your laptop, typing as quick as you can think. Which is to say, not impressively fast. 

It’s your boyfriends’ day off, and they’ve decided to celebrate the rare occurrence of none of them being scheduled to work by going to the cinema. James and Remus are making dinner first, but the film’s in just under two hours. You know you’re sacrificing some time with them now, but it’s only so you can enjoy the main event later. Plus, if you stop working, you’re not sure you’ll be able to pick up the momentum to start again. You have a creeping sense that at the first opportunity for rest, you’ll lie down and never get up. 

James says something encouraging, and then the conversation goes on without you. You lock into your laptop screen, fingers pressing down upon the keyboard like an extension of your brain, and gradually the sensation of being outside of yourself, your body moving on autopilot while your mind simply fuzzes over, envelops you. Slowly, the world just…slips. 

An odd sound leaves Sirius as he lunges for you, like an alarm that went off without him telling it to. He catches you but not quite, one hand wrapping around your arm and the other fisting in the material of your shirt, stopping you from tipping over only temporarily. James runs from behind the counter to help. Accompanied by a steady stream of curses from both of his boyfriends, he eases you out of your stool and onto the floor. You’re already coming to. 

“Is she okay?” Remus asks from the kitchen, and Sirius hears the sound of the stove flicking off. 

“She’s hot,” James says, one hand cushioning your head from the floor while the other feels about your face and neck. 

The quip comes to Sirius naturally—as usual—but he’s in no mood to deliver it. Though he trusts James’ assessment, he touches the backs of his fingers to your forehead anyway, hissing at the heat that meets them. It’s a wonder he didn’t feel it emanating from you in the barstool next to him. 

“Angel,” James’ voice is a coo, gentleness coming naturally to him whereas Sirius’ panic feels hot and dangerous beneath his skin, “do you feel alright?” 

You hum, though it sounds more like a grunt. “Mhm.” 

Sirius almost laughs. “Come on,” he says, “be straight with us.” He works two fingers into your wrist to get your pulse, rubbing his free hand up your arm cajolingly. “You did just pass out, so we know you’re not fine.” 

Remus sets a hand on Sirius’ back as he lowers himself to the ground by your legs. A support for them both. 

“I…” You blink for a couple of seconds, and they wait, knowing you’re probably still out of it. “I guess I feel a little sick.” 

James cracks a smile, though it’s tinged with worry. “A little?” he asks, smoothing down the baby hairs at your temple. “You’ve got a horrid fever.” 

You sigh. “I figured.” 

“You figured?” Sirius is aghast. He suddenly has a very clear picture of how your day has gone, and it unnerves him. “How long have you been feeling like this?” 

You look wary, and Remus’ hand runs the length of Sirius’ back quickly as he stands. “Alright, let’s move you somewhere more comfortable, yeah dovey?” 

You relax a bit at the affection in his tone, and Sirius feels bad about ever making you miss it. This is something he’s never been able to quell about himself. His love almost always manifests roughly. For the most part, you all know how to interpret it, but when you’re vulnerable like this and he can feel you feeling the gnashing teeth of his worry, Sirius wishes he were gentler. 

James won’t let you walk yourself the short distance to the couch, lifting you in a bridal carry and setting you down with such carefulness it makes Sirius’ chest ache. Remus goes to get the thermometer. Sirius steals the spot beside your head selfishly. Thankfully, there’s no lingering timidity in your gaze as he combs his fingers through your hair, pushing it away from your ear and trailing his fingers down your neck. 

“You’ve been feeling unwell for a while,” he says, softer this time, “haven’t you.” 

You look more guilty than anything, eyes going big and doe-like. “Yeah.”

“Why didn’t you say?” James asks, lifting your legs so he can scooch underneath. He rubs the skin above your knees fondly, a small furrow between his brows. 

“I just,” you sigh as though disappointed, “wasn’t ready.” 

“Wasn’t ready for what?” 

“To be sick.” 

The scratchy, delightful sound of Remus’ laugh comes into the room with him. “Well that’s silly,” he says, reaching over Sirius to settle the thermometer in your ear. “It doesn’t seem to be waiting on you, does it?” 

“Guess not,” you mutter. Sirius strokes your jaw with his thumb. 

When the thermometer goes off, both he and James lean in to see, but Remus forsakes them, bringing it up near his face where he can read it. He hums. 

“What is it?” James asks. 

“Thirty nine point five.” 

They all frown. Sirius touches your forehead again, just to be sure. Unfortunately, it seems accurate. 

“What are your symptoms, sweetheart?” Remus asks you, settling on the floor beside Sirius with his knees bent in front of him. “Does anything hurt?” 

“I feel sick—like nauseous, and sort of achey.” A little notch appears between your brows, and Sirius had the impression that you’re finally letting yourself acknowledge your own misery. His gut twists with sympathy. “My stomach is starting to hurt, but I’m not sure if that’s just because I skipped lunch.” 

None of your boyfriends even have to say anything. You look abashed enough by their expressions. 

“I wasn’t feeling well,” you say in a small voice. 

James breaks easily, taking your hand and bringing it to his mouth for a firm kiss. “Can’t believe you went all day feeling this poorly and didn’t say anything,” he chides lovingly. “What did you think was going to happen, hm?” 

“I know, I’m sorry.” Your gaze flitters about the room, landing on Sirius’ eyes for a fraction of a second before it’s dropping shyly to the couch cushion. “It was dumb.” 

“So long as you know,” Remus agrees with a brief eye-roll. “It sounds like the stomach flu, so at least it should be better in a couple of days, but there’s not much to do other than rest.” 

Your face pinches unhappily. “I’m sorry for messing up your big night too,” you say, and you look like you’d curl up in misery if James weren’t currently using your legs as a blanket. Sirius’ heart gives a little throb. 

“Don’t be,” James says. “We’re still with you, aren’t we? And if we get sick, too, that’s just more days off!”

It’s clearly a joke, but you look extra guilty anyways. Your features tighten in a slight wince. Sirius works a hand between your face and the couch cushion, leaning forward to kiss the space between your brows. 

“Don’t worry about it, darling,” he says. “Better when we can be with you than when we’re busy helping some other poor sap, yeah?”

#emt!marauders #emt!marauders x reader #marauders au #poly!marauders #poly!marauders x reader #poly!marauders x fem!reader #poly!marauders x you #poly!marauders x y/n #poly!marauders x self insert #poly!marauders fanfiction #poly!marauders fanfic #poly!marauders fic #poly!marauders hurt/comfort #poly!marauders fluff #poly!marauders imagine #poly!marauders scenario #poly!marauders drabble #poly!marauders blurb #poly!marauders oneshot #poly!marauders one shot #james potter #james potter x reader #sirius black #sirius black x reader #remus lupin #remus lupin x reader #marauders #marauders fanfiction #marauders fandom #hp marauders

[andypantsx3]

idk when i will write this (i'm calling dibs on this set up btw) but i have a "there is only one bed" scene living in my head rn, where like shouto & bakugou are on a joint secret mission and somehow you fall into it, some random civilian they've picked up along the way and are forced to drag along for your own safety.

night falls and bakugou's gotten you the last room at some seedy motel that lets you pay all cash, and no one is pleased when the room is dingy and so small that it's taken up entirely by the bed. the one singular bed, that is.

"the brat sleeps in the middle, i'm not cuddling up to your candy cane ass," bakugou tells shouto gruffly.

shouto ignores him, watching you closely instead.

"i will take the floor if it makes you uncomfortable," he offers, the consummate gentleman. he's been the kindest of the two of them, throughout this whole ordeal, the one who'd pulled you out of the way just as you were about to be cremated. something in your heart clenches at the thought of him cold and alone on the dirty carpet.

"it's fine," you tell him, heart in your throat.

a tiny smile quirks his mouth, and bakugou scoffs behind you. you haven't known bakugou long, but you know enough to guess he's rolling his eyes.

it's quiet as everyone readies for bed, bakugou claiming the first shower. shouto takes the time to reorganize his pack and you help him divide up everything in the minibar between the three of you, everyone ravenous after the events of the day.

it's a relief to wash the grime off of you too, finally clean again after days. you're loath to redress in your same filthy clothes, but you have nothing else. you scrub the worst patches of grime off in the sink, resigned to a couple damp spots, before nervously making your way back into the bedroom.

you can smell the cheap hotel shampoo in bakugou's hair as you settle down between the two men, feel the heat of shouto's body next to you, still damp from his shower. there's barely two inches of space between you and either of them, the bed meant for two, not three.

"you better not fuckin' kick in your sleep," bakugou tells you, his voice a low rasp in your ear. you suppress a shiver at how close he is, but even that can't stop the way you roll your eyes in the dark.

"i'll aim towards you," you say, unable to help yourself. you can feel the exhale of his snort on the back of your neck, and you can't quite tell if it's amused or displeased.

shouto is the first to drift off, his quiet breaths growing even and deep and steady. you can just see the faint smudge of his long lashes fanning over his cheeks in the dim. he looks just as beautiful asleep as he does when he's awake, and your own cheeks warm at the idea of sharing a bed with this man. both of these men. bakugou is beautiful too, even if he's obnoxious.

you think bakugou is still awake when you finally manage to drift off too, but you're the first to awaken, the silver-grey fingers of early morning light barely sneaking beneath the drawn curtains.

in the night all three of you have drifted closer—much closer than is proper. you're wedged securely between them both, shouto a long, hot line against your back, bakugou's chest firm against yours. you're so close that you can feel both of their chests rise and fall as they breathe, feel the tickle of shouto's breath against your neck, bakugou's against your temple.

one of shouto's hands is fitted to your hip. you can feel the impression of every single one of those long, elegant fingers warm against your skin. one of bakugou's muscular thighs is wedged between yours, too, your legs tangled. it's hot between the two men—you can feel your skin dampening with the heat of their bodies.

you don't dare move, nerves—and something horrifyingly more pleasant—pooling in your gut. you lay like that for a long time, eyes closed, heart pounding, until bakugou shifts, rolling over and awakening with a groan. once he's reoriented himself, you feel him shove shouto off of you, too, cussing him out in a low, raspy tone, rough from sleep.

the cold where their warm bodies once pressed against you is a physical impression of the absence—and you think you feel the loss of their proximity far more keenly than you should.

#andie's writing #character: bakugou katsuki #character: todoroki shouto

[tojipie]

crybaby reader! but it isn’t toji who makes her upset, it’s someone else maybe some guy at her college how would toji react?

i honestly want to dedicate a proper blocked off chunk of my masterlist to this pairing :(( this is for the extreme social anxiety girlies who can only ever be around their boyfies (me)

content: hurt/comfort, fluff, severely introverted reader, anxiety

every hour spent in this class was more time to yourself to mull over why you’d let toji convince you to take an in-person course for once.

you’d gotten through college just fine these past few semesters, sitting through your lectures from the comfort of your living room. most of your school day was spent cuddled up with your back pressed to your boyfriend’s chest, where you were safe. 

you liked your routine, you craved order. there was nothing wrong with doing school online, in fact, you much preferred it that way over making the infuriating commute to school every morning.

toji had liked your routine just fine too, boasting about how nice it was to have you at home. that was until you started to let yourself go, slacking off during class to make yourself snacks, take showers, and nap on the couch.

that’s eventually why—much to your chagrin— toji convinced you to sign up for an in-person course to help you get your momentum back.

you were hesitant at first, blown completely out of the water by his outlandish request.

“just one day a week,” he pleaded, petting over the crown of your head in reassurance. “just one day to get a little fresh air, make some friends. don’t that sound fun?”

“i’m not gonna make any friends,” you explained bitterly, stomach already cramping with distaste at the thought of being forced to take the time out of your day to make your commute and spend 2 hours in a 30-person classroom every wednesday. people your age were cruel, you’d learned that very early on.

you knew it was unhealthy, squeezing your bubble this tight until you and toji were the only ones that could fit in it. was it really that bad to protect your peace though? you trusted toji, and he was better than anyone at showing you how loved you were—in his own way of course. 

you don’t say anything the day you press “enroll” on your school portal, feeling your boyfriend rub both hands up and down your sides in silent support. in fact, you’d secretly been the slightest bit excited at the change in scenery, ready to consider expanding that little bubble of yours.

keyword, consider. you were considering it right up until your first group assignment.

the stranger—your partner for the day, looks you up and down for only a moment, awkwardly turning to tap his friend behind him.

“switch with me,” he mutters, already grabbing his bag to leave your table with a sigh of relief.

the humiliation that settles deep within your bones is excruciating. you feel hot all over, suddenly conscious of every breath you take, how your chest shudders as you try not to cry. had he already decided he wanted nothing to do with you based on one look?

the girl he switches with isn’t much of an improvement, spending the majority of class on her phone while you work quietly on your laptop. you hear her laugh once or twice, too scared to look up and see if the giggling was at your expense.

you slink out of the room forty-five minutes early, unbeknownst to the people around you.

this was such a big mistake.

˚ ✧ ───

toji freezes the second you start to blubber into the swell of his chest, holding his thin work shirt in your quivering fists.

“what is it baby?” he whispers, bringing a large hand up to pet over the crown of your head. “you trip in the elevator again?”

“no,” you sniffle, embarrassedly wiping hot tears with your jacket sleeve. you didn’t want to talk about it, didn’t feel like enduring another wave of embarrassment lest you relive the events from today. 

the older man realizes the source of your tears, choosing his next words with caution.

“didn’t like class today?” he asks, fiddling with a strand of your hair absentmindedly.

“not going back,” you mumble, untangling yourself from his limbs to set your bag down on the couch. you sprawl out on the piece of furniture, exhausted beyond belief.

you tell him what had happened in the hours prior, pausing a few times to will away oncoming tears. toji kisses away each salty droplet, mouthing at your neck to coax an unexpected fit of laughter from you.

“you send in that project yet?” he asks, thumbing at the seam of your shirt.

“not yet, why?”

“bring it here.”

you oblige, curious.

the older man flips through the slides until he gets to the title page, highlighting your “partner’s” name and clicking the backspace with enthusiasm.

“there you go sugar,” he smiles, pulling you into his lap to let you get a better look. “you’re gonna go to that class and you’re gonna get the credit you deserve, okay?”

you truly hadn’t thought of it that way, intertwining your fingers as toji submits the project for you. was standing up for yourself really that simple?

tears start to well behind your lashes for the umpteenth time that day, reducing you to mush as the raven-haired man pulls you flush with his chest.

“thank you,” you mumble. he knows what you mean without you having to explain, wishing you wouldn’t thank him for the bare minimum. 

toji fiddles with each of your smaller fingers as you drift asleep against him, too overwhelmed by the onslaught of emotions to stay awake any longer. 

he whispers sweet promises to you as your mind walks the right rope between consciousness and dreamland, telling you how he’ll hold your hand on every walk to the train station from now until the last day of the semester. 

and you don’t think you’ve ever felt this safe in your life.

#adah’s asks #fushiguro toji x reader #toji x reader fluff #toji x reader #toji headcanons #jjk toji #jujutsu kaisen toji #jujutsu kaisen #toji zenin #toji imagine #toji fushiguro #fushiguro toji #zenin toji #toji #toji drabbles #toji fluff #toji x reader hurt/comfort #toji x reader angst #drabble #toji x reader comfort

[buckyalpine]

Please do a teeny story where buckys kitty is all over a y/n and he is so flustered about it. These pics of my cat who is a Turkish Angora. I like to think he might look a bit like Alpine 😉

I'm here for all the domestic fluff rn. WHAT A CUTE BABY PLSSSS absolutely yes your fur baby looks like such a little angel. That is most certainly Bucky's sweet Alpine.

Bucky finally moved into a new apartment. One with proper heating and lighting. A comfy bed he actually liked to sleep in. Furniture he picked out. It was a simple space but he liked it. He even got a few plants and hung up a few pictures, most of them with Sam and Steve.

His favorite place was surprisingly the kitchen. After years of tasteless mush and not exactly feasting every day back in he 40's, Bucky loves trying experimenting with different recipes and recreating ones he remembered his ma making for him.

Then there was his favorite thing in the whole world. A little white ball of fur that would slink around his legs all day, meowing for pets and cuddles, purring so loudly Bucky was sure the neighbors could hear. He'd never meant to get a cat but all it took was one charity event at a local animal shelter and the rest was history. He couldn't resist those adorable blinking eyes and soft, wispy fur.

-

"Alp?" Bucky rubbed his eyes, curious as to why there wasn't a fuzzy motor boat purring on his chest while the sun streamed through the curtains. "Where'd you go, baby"

It wasn't rare for Alpine to wake up earlier than Bucky, sauntering around the apartment to lay under a patch of sun. He swung his legs over, making his way to the kitchen to make breakfast for both him and his cat only to find the apartment empty and the cat door swinging.

"I should've never installed that" Bucky groaned to himself, deciding to continue making breakfast in hopes that Alpine would be back shortly whilst also wondering why he thought it would be a good idea to give his cat a sense of independence. Moments later, Bucky heard the swinging of the flap, announcing the arrival of the fur ball.

"Where did you go" Bucky cocked his head, noting the way his cat was smugly licking his lips before jumping onto his cat tree and stretching out for a nap. "For fucks sake, you're worse than Steve, running off God knows where and doing who knows what"

A knock of the door broke Bucky away from the conversation he was having, his eyes growing wide seeing his pretty neighbor on the other side.

"H-hi" Bucky stuttered, smiling down at the PJ's you were still in along with soft bunny slippers on your feet, sleep still evident on your face. Before either of you could speak, Alpine trotted over, walking right past Bucky and straight to you. He stood up on his hind legs with needy meows, batting his eyes as best as he could, something he very clearly learned from his owner.

"Alpine" Bucky hissed, his cheeks growing red while his cat continued to paw at your leg, trying to climb you like a tree, begging to be picked up.

"Is he yours" you giggled, picking up the fussy cat in your arms, letting him adjust himself until he was comfy, his eyes closing for a nap. "He was at my door this morning"

"You can't nap there baby" Bucky sighed, embarrassed over the fact that his cat was rubbing himself all over you plus he'd clearly just revealed Alpine wore the pants in the relationship. "Yeah, he's mine. I'm so sorry, he's usually not like that, he usually runs away from people-

"It's okay" you cooed at the content cat in your arms, giving him another snuggle before turning to Bucky again. Something silver in your hand caught his eyes, running and hand over his face when he realized what you were holding.

His cat was a menace.

"He left this at my place while coming for a visit. Thought I should bring it back to its rightful owner, Sargent" You said shyly, handing over Bucky's dogtags, your breath hitching as your fingers brushed over his metal hand, placing them in his palm.

"Supposed I should give this back to you as well" you handed over Alpine, torn between wanting to cuddle the fur baby more and also feeling jealous of how comfy he must've felt in his daddy's thick arms, resting against his strong chest-

Get a hold of yourself.

"Thank you, doll" The pet name slipped out on is own making both of you giddy again. "I-I was just about to make breakfast, if you want to come over in half an hour" Bucky offered, nervous at how your react, butterflies bursting in his tummy when your eyes lit up.

"I'd love that" You gave Alpine one last scratch behind the ears before retracting back to your apartment to get changed while Bucky closed the door behind him.

"I know you want a mommy but you can't just plant yourself into the arms of the first pretty girl you see" Bucky's muffled voice carried through the door making your cheeks heat up, smiling to yourself when Alpine meowed in response.

"I know you have good taste but you know I would've asked her out eventually. You didn't have to drag my dogtags there"

"Meow"

"I'm not scared"

"Meow"

"I'm not!"

"...Meow"

"Fine. But you let me handle this when she comes over"

"Meow"

#bucky barnes fluff #bucky barnes x reader fluff #james buchanan barnes #bucky x y/n #bucky x you #bucky barnes x you #bucky x reader #bucky barnes #bucky barnes x reader #bucky barnes x y/n #bucky barnes x female reader #bucky barnes x f!reader #bucky barnes fanfiction #bucky barnes fan fic #bucky barnes fan fiction #bucky barnes fanfic #bucky fan fic #bucky fan fiction #bucky fanfic #bucky barnes fandom #bucky imagine #james bucky buchanan barnes #james bucky barnes #marvel fluff #shy bucky #shy bucky x reader #soft bucky #soft bucky barnes #avengers fluff #marvel fanfics