#the sweater is from build a bear if anyone was wondering

[six-tooth]

he's a jerk but I love him he's my baby boy

(context below)

I took him out to dinner with his cute little pink sweater

#my art #fanart #the amazing digital circus #jax #the sweater is from build a bear if anyone was wondering

[starlordsandrockets]

Snowed In

pairing: college!Peter Parker x Reader: 18+

Word Count: 4.4k

summary: Your plans to return home for the holidays were ruined by a snow storm. Now, you found yourself spending Christmas with Peter, the neighbor you had a crush on.

a/n: Many apologizes for the wait, I started this fic months ago to ‘get ahead’ but here we are lol... I’ve been super sick as of recent so if some of my writing doesn’t make sense, I apologize and will proofread it after a nap, lol.

Peter watched the snow fall outside his apartment window as he heard the sound of heavy boots climbing back up the stairs. Your groan hummed through the building’s thin walls. Slowly, he made his way to his apartment’s door. Placing his hand on the handle, he swung the door open, eyes shut. Opening his eyes, he took in the sight of you.

You pulled your gloves off of your hands awkwardly from where they were tucked into your large, black coat. You were laughing under your breath, however, your laugh stemmed from frustration.

“You… okay?” Peter finally questioned, announcing his presence. He watched you jump before slowly turning your head.

“P-Peter,” You stuttered, feeling your face heat up out of embarrassment. Your handsome neighbor now leaned against the doorframe of his apartment. A, clearly thrifted, sweater sat over a black shirt that peaked out from the neckline, “Yeah- Yeah I’m fine,” You dug into your purse, attempting to find your keys, “I just planned to head to my parent’s tonight- you know, for Christmas,” You watched him nod, taking in the luggage that sat at your feet, “But I’m snowed in and alone,”

Peter took in a deep breath, holding it. He knew you had no idea about what he went through and that your claim was harmless, however, it still hurt, “Yeah… me too,”

“You were going to your parents?” You questioned, not knowing anything about your neighbor, besides the fact that you had the biggest crush on him.

As soon as you heard that you had someone living across the hall, you just had to sneak a peek. You had your hopes up for a friend, or at least anyone besides an old man. To your surprise, it was Peter, and you found yourself hopelessly falling for him in a heartbeat.

“I, I actually don’t have parents,” Peter spoke, “I mean, I did- obviously,” He rambled, “They died and I lived with my Aunt but a year ago, she…” He still could not bear to finish that sentence.

“I-I’m sorry-” You turned back towards your door, “I should leave you alone now,” You laughed, “I didn’t mean to…” You stuck your retrieved keys into your door, “Have a nice night,” You shut the door behind yourself, leaving your luggage in the hall, far too embarrassed to retrieve it. Not until he left the hallway.

You stood there, back pressed against the door, sweating in your winter coat. You were an idiot- a bitch even. Why the hell did you ask him that? I mean, it was not like you knew. But on Christmas Eve, that was a new low for you. There was no way Peter could ever like you now.

Peter wanted to hit his head against the old, landlord painted door frame. Why did he say that to you? You were already upset that you could not see your family, so why did he make it about him? You did not even bother to grab your luggage, you would rather just get away from him. Peter debated turning around and just escaping into the cold night to get his mind off of you, however, he was afraid your things would get stolen from the hallway. 

That is when he heard your door creak open. He watched your head poke out from behind the white door, “Jesus Chri-” You gasped. Peter wondered just how long he had been standing there thinking about you.

“Sorry,” Peter spoke, “I just didn’t want someone walking off with your things,”

“Thanks,” You replied, your voice quiet. Reaching out, you watched as Peter stepped closer to you.

“Here-” Peter picked up your bags effortlessly, “I can get them- I didn’t mean to just dump all that on you before- About my family,”

“No- No! I’m the one who brought it up,” You stuttered, “It’s my fault and it’s almost Christmas and I was being an asshole-”

“Did you want to spend the night with me?” Peter questioned, interrupting your sentence, “I mean- Christmas- Christmas Eve and Christmas! Not like spend the night like-”

“Yes,” You replied, “I mean- Yeah, sure,”

”Cool cool,” Peter spoke through his nerves, “But uh- could we actually stay in your apartment?”

”M-Mine?” You questioned, staring back at your handsome neighbor.

”Yeah mines…” Peter trailed off. He really did not want you to find his suit, or his web shooters, or his scrap fabric from his suit, “I don’t really have much furniture, or food, or- well really anything,”

“Sure,” You nodded, “Yeah- yeah no problem,” You held your door open, allowing him to slip by with your luggage in hand, “Sorry if it’s kind of messy, I haven’t really been up to doing anything once I get home from work,” You were rambling nervously.

Peter took in your small apartment. It was much more decorated than his and it made him feel at home. He had always wondered what your apartment looked like every time he passed by you in the lobby or hallway, “It’s nice,”

“Yeah?” You laughed nervously.

”Yeah,” He spoke, “You have a couch and a bed,” He emphasized, watching you laugh. Your smile turned his stomach. He always thought you were pretty, beautiful even, and he never thought he would ever be in your apartment; Peter was surprised he even worked up the courage to talk to you.

“I’m sure you’re apartment isn’t that bad,” You responded.

“I don’t know, I’m kind of broke,” Peter shrugged, setting your bags down at the end of your bed. He studied the few stuffed animals that sat on your bed. A quilt was tossed on top of your bedsheets in an artfully messy way.

The old building’s poor insulation allowed a chill to hang in the room each time the wind blew outside. Peter’s head turned towards your window, “I was planning on taking a nice train ride home on the Amtrak,” You began to strip yourself of your warm outer layers, leaving yourself in a new sweater that you had bought recently. Part of you was glad you had no way out of Queens because now you were spending Christmas with the neighbor who you had a crush on since the day you moved in. And that is when you fully processed that Peter Parker was spending the night in your apartment, “I need a drink,” You spoke aloud to yourself.

Peter laughed at you quiet claim, watching you turn to look at him, “Sorry,”

”No, no-“ You stuttered, “Do, Do you want some? Spiked eggnog? Spiked coffee?” He watched you moved into the kitchen, watching as you began to make yourself a cup of coffee.

“Coffee’s good,” Peter answered, “Whatever you’re having is fine,”

“Right,” You spoke, “Sure,” You gave him a weak smile as you felt your cheeks heat up due to your nervousness. Peter now moved towards you, entering the kitchen.

Peter studied you as your back faced him. He felt his heart race slightly as he wiped his sweaty palms on his jeans, “Need help?” He questioned, watching you jump slightly, “Sorry,” Without a thought, he reached out, placing his hand on the small of your back. You froze in his grasp, the sound of the coffee machine brewing filled the kitchen.

Your heart was beating in your ears as Peter’s hand lingered a bit longer. The coffee maker began to spit hot coffee into your mug, allowing you a few more moments to collect yourself. As soon as the humming stopped you spoke, “Fine- It’s fine,” Peter’s hand fell back to his side. He watched as you reached up towards a tall cabinet. Your fingertips pressed against the glass of the large bottle of vodka.

“Here,” Peter spoke, reaching out. The front of his body pressed against your arm, making you jump. He watched as the bottle tipped, your fingers leaving the bottle’s surface. Instantly he caught it before it could fall towards you, “Careful,”

“Sorry,” You spoke, “Thanks,” You watched as he set the bottle on your small countertop. You studied his hands, his fingers were long and slender. The sight made your stomach flutter slightly as you longed for them to fall against your skin once again. Unscrewing the cap of the bottle, you poured the liquor into the black coffee, “Uh-“ You cleared your throat silently at the sound of your own awkward voice, “Sugar’s on the counter and the creamer’s in the fridge,” You pushed the mug towards your smiling neighbor, “I have peppermint mocha and hazelnut I think,”

“Coool,” Peter’s lips drew out, he moved towards the refrigerator although his eyes stayed on you. He watched you prepare another cup of coffee, your hands fumbling while completing the task. Finally grabbing a creamer, Peter studied it in his hand before closing the fridge. Pouring the cream into the black coffee, he watched the colors swirl as he grew lost in thoughts of you.

You turned your head, watching Peter stare into his cup. That is when you realized you forgot to tell him where the utensils were, “Sorry-“ You spoke, heading towards the drawer of utensils. Grabbing a spoon you held it out, in his line of sight, “Sorry,”

“What?” He questioned, snapping out of his thoughts his eyes fell to you.

“Here, to stir your coffee,” You informed him.

“Right,” Peter took the metal from your hands, watching you give him a weak smile before you grabbed the other cup that had finished brewing. You weaved around him in the small kitchen and it made his heart flutter slightly. Something about it felt comforting and it made him feel complete.

You returned to Peter’s side with creamer in hand, “What kind did you put in?” You questioned, watching Peter stir his coffee. Your eyes caught the shining metal as he brought it to his lips. His lips parted, as he placed the warm metal against his tongue, catching some dripping coffee.

“Hmm?” He hummed around the spoon, “Oh,” Peter muttered, the word freeing his once occupied mouth, “Hazelnut,” He answered. Without a thought, Peter placed the spoon into your mug. He watched you stiffen for a moment, unsure as to why, “Thanks for the coffee,”

“Y-Yeah,” Your eyes left the spoon’s handle and met Peter’s eyes. His warm brown eyes mimicked the swirling coffee that sat between the two of you, “You… want to watch something?” He nodded, lips around the ceramic mug, “The remotes on the coffee table. If you want to look for something to watch,”

“Sure,” Peter smiled, leaving the small kitchen and heading towards your couch.

You waited, hearing his cushioned footsteps cross onto the carpet of your living room. With your back facing him, you stirred your coffee slowly before taking out the warm spoon. You stared at the metal, your distorted reflection staring back at you as you recalled Peter’s lips around the handle. Then, you brought the same spoon towards your lips. The metal passed your lips, caressing your tongue as it did Peter’s moments before.

Did that make you a freak? You would take the indirect kiss in a heartbeat. You could only hope that Peter did not see your desperate action.

Replacing the spoon with the edge of your cup, you took a large sip of the hot coffee, “It’s A Wonderful Life?” You heard Peter question from the couch.

“Hmm?” You hummed, being pulled out of your thoughts of him. Turning your head, you studied the tv, “Oh- No, too sad,” You watched Peter’s head turn away from your gaze, “If we’re drinking, I’ll cry. Plus that movie is so long,”

“We have all night,” Peter reminded you, “Unless you’re trying to kick me out,” He laughed, hoping you still wanted to spend the night with him.

“No- No, I’m not,” You walked to the couch, taking a seat next to him, “I just, I really don’t want to cry in front of you. Please,” You laughed into your coffee.

“Fine,” Peter continued to scroll on your tv, “Elf?”

“A classic,” You responded, “Sure,” Staring into the cup, you drank the rest of the spiked drink, “Do you want more?” You asked, looking at Peter’s, half empty cup.

“I’m good,” Peter smiled up at you as you rose to your feet.

“Cooool,” You drew out, “I’ll be back then,” Turning, you visibly cringed at yourself. The movie began to play. Taking the bottle, you eyeballed a shot of vodka and poured it into your empty cup. Bringing it to your lips, you swallowed it, wincing slightly before you prepared yourself another spiked cup.

“I don’t remember the credits being so lonnnng,” Peter called out to you over the movie.

“I do,” You smiled to yourself, “That’s why I’m making another cup now,” Your gaze locked onto Peter as you saw him jump up from the couch, “What are you-“

“Do you have hot cocoa?” Peter questioned with a slight bounce in his step. He watched as a smile threatened to curl your lips, “What?”

“Nothing,” You tried to play off.

“Tell me,” Peter groaned, placing his cup on the counter that sat in front of you, “Y/N,” Your name left his voice in a whining tone. He leaned on the counter next to you, his body heat radiating against your skin.

“You- You say hot cocoa,” You spoke, giving in due to his close proximity.

“And what do you say?” His eyes studied the side of your face as you refused to meet his eyes.

You felt as the shot began to affect you, making you mentally curse. You waited for the coffee maker to begin brewing, however it was taking far too long, allowing an awkward silence to fall between the two of you, “Hot chocolate,” You informed, looking at Peter out of the corner of your eyes.

Peter stood next to you with a stupid grin on his stupidly handsome face and it made you want to scream. You thought that the alcohol would help you survive the night with him, but now you were second guessing yourself.

“Hot chocolate,” Peter spoke, imitating your voice, “Do you have hot chocolate?”

“Nope,” You answered, moving past Peter and towards the fridge, “Sorry,” You listened to him groan. He headed towards the couch, pausing the movie, “What are you?”

“I’m going to get some cocoa from the corner store,” Peter spoke, heading towards your apartment’s door.

“But the snow,”

“I…” Peter dug through his head for an excuse, “I’ll be super quick, don’t worry- I use the fire escape,”

“The fire escape?” You questioned, a laugh lacing your tone, “You’re insane. No, I’ll just go with you,”

“No- No trust me,” Peter spoke, “Stay here and… get some blankets for the movie,” He watched you stare back at him, “Do you need anything? From the store?”

“Just ‘hot cocoa’,” You somewhat mocked, watching Peter throw you a playful look.

“Yeah, you’re not coming with me,” Peter smiled before heading through the door.

You watched as he closed the door behind him, listening to the sound of his door unlocking from the hallway. A deep breath passed through your nose and into your lungs, feeling your shoulders relax.

Your fingers fell against the fabric of your sweater as you looked at the paused movie on your tv screen. Remembering Peter’s words, you headed towards a closet that you kept your spare blankets in. Pulling out a large blanket, you paused, realizing you would probably die from shock if you shared a blanket with him. Throwing the large blanket onto the couch, you retrieved a second, smaller one.

You turned on the lights of your small tree that was tucked into a corner of the room. More sets of string lights lit up that lined a few surfaces of your apartment. Staring out at the city through your window, you studied the heavy snow that fell, wondering how Peter’s trip was to the corner store. Dimming the lights, you allowed the string lights and street lights to provide a calmer ambiance.

Walking past a mirror, you studied your reflection. You should probably touch up your makeup and change into something more comfortable.

Gathering some loungewear, you entered your small bathroom to change. Setting the plush fabric on the closed toilet, you removed your sweater and jeans. Staring at your reflection, you slipped a pair of fuzzy brown pants over your black underwear. The alcohol that ran through your system convinced you to slip the matching cardigan over your bralette, showing a little skin under your cozy loungewear.

Leaning in closer to the mirror, you studied your light makeup a little closer. However, you were unable to reach for your makeup bag, hearing someone coming through your front door.

Opening the bathroom door, you peered through the opening. You hoped it was Peter and not a total stranger walking through the unlocked door. Your gaze looked onto Peter as he carried two small bags with him, “That was fast,”

“I told you,” He smiled, closing the door behind him with his foot, “Super quick,”

“Yeah,” Your voice was skeptical as you exited the bathroom, “I’m surprised you even made it out the front door,”

“What do you mean?” Peter questioned, walking towards your kitchen. He set down the bags and began to dig through them.

“I couldn’t get out to catch the train,” You laughed, “Not that it would have mattered since they canceled it anyway,” You studied him as you made your way to the kitchen. Not a single inch of him was wet from the snow.

“They must have shoveled or something,” Peter shrugged next to you. He searched his head for the next possible excuse he would have to use. It was not like he could tell you that Spider-Man swung by the corner store just to get the ‘super cute girl that lives across the hall’ some hot cocoa, or hot chocolate.

“Our landlord? Shoveling?” You stopped a laugh from bubbling past your lips, “You’re funny. Did you slip on some ice on your way back? Hit your head?”

“Nope, just swung by the corner store,” Peter spoke, holding back a sly smile.

Somewhere between the banter, a pot of water was heating up on the stove as the two of you emptied the packets into your empty mugs. The alcohol that was once warming your system began to fade as you felt yourself grossing more nervous by the second.

“Did you… did you want to play a drinking game?” You questioned carefully. You watched as Peter met your eyes, a smile playing on his lips, “What? We don’t have to- if you don’t want to that’s fine I just thought-”

“Sounds fun,” Peter laughed. However, he felt a bit guilty, knowing the alcohol would not affect his heightened system. 

“Cool,” You smiled to yourself, yet Peter could still study your face.

Before the tea pot could whistle, Peter took it off of its hot surface. His action earned your gaze as he poured the steaming water into your cups, “So are these the chasers or are you still spiking these?” He questioned with a smile that made your knees weak.

You were going to need all the help you could get, “Hand me the bottle,” You spoke, watching his smiling eyes close.

***

The two of you tipped back another shot, wincing, “You picked the worst possible things to drink to,” Before you could put the cup down on your coffee table, another keyword was spoken through the screen.

“It-It was the first one I googled,” You slurred slightly, feeling the alcohol’s effects, “You- Why are you complaining? You seem fine,”

“Do I?” Peter questioned from next to you on the couch. Stretching out his arm, he placed it along the couch’s back as he looked at you.

The two of you heard another ‘Santa’ come from the tv and regrettably reached for your cups, “You-” You winced as the vodka burned your chest, “Yeah. You seem fine,” You scooted a bit closer to him, your movements obscured by the alcohol in your system. The room moved slowly around you as you attempted to study Peter.

Embarrassed at your close proximity, Peter found the large blanket you had thrown on the couch, tossing it over your head, “Trust me, I’m feeling it,” He lied. However, his feelings for you were having a full effect on him.

Taking the end of the blanket, you tossed it over him, capturing him underneath with you, “I don’t beli-eve youu,” You slurred slightly, trying to locate him under the dark blanket.

“Y/N,” Peter spoke, hands beginning to sweat. He wanted to kiss you.

“Hmm?” You hummed, finding him after your eyes adjusted.

“How do you feel?” He questioned, watching you shift in front of him.

“How do I feel?” You laughed, the movie’s audio a deafened hum, “Wh-What is that supposed to mean?”

“Are you drunk?” Peter questioned. He did not want to make moves on you if you were not capable of saying no.

You shook your head, eyes falling to his lips, “No,” You vocalized, “just… more confident,”

“Mhm,” Peter hummed, lips pressed in a straight line as he nodded. He removed the blanket from both your heads, not realizing just how hot and heavy the air had been.

You studied your neighbor, a subtle blush sat on his skin, but maybe it was from the heated covers, “We missed a bunch of shots you know,” You spoke.

“Yeah?” Peter laughed, “Why don’t we just have some hot chocolate,” He emphasized the word, watching a smile curl your lips.

“Mm, yeah, hot cocoa,” You reached out towards the mug. It was positioned closer to Peter on the table, making you move a little closer to him on the couch.

Bringing the warm drink to your lips, it calmed your nerves. But that soon ended as you felt Peter adjust the blanket over the two of you. You stared blankly at the movie, watching it come to an end. You prayed for the movie to continue, not wanting to have to interact with Peter once again.

The credits began to roll. Your heartbeat began to race as you watched Peter reach for the remote, “I don’t think we would make it through another drinking game,” He almost laughed. However, he was just doing you a favor.

“Yeah,” You spoke, “Right,” Shifting under the blanket you felt your breathing grow irregular as you attempted to calm yourself.

“You okay?” Peter asked, hearing your heartbeat and staggered breaths from his spot on the couch.

“What? Yeah- yeah,” You lied through your teeth, staring at the paused screen.

“Your heart’s beating super fast,” Peter leaned closer to you. Taking a breath, he tested the water, “What d’you have a crush on me or something?”

“You-You’re funny,” You spoke, taking a sip of the remaining hot chocolate. You winced, the once hot drink was now cold. The thought of Peter knowing about your crush overshadowed the fact that he could sense your heartbeat.

“Why don’t we play a game?” Peter turned to face you, watching you nod from behind your mug, “like Never Have I Ever,”

“Mmm,” You hummed around the rim. Setting the cup down, your heart dropped with it, “Sounds suupper fun,”

“Come on,�� Peter groaned, “It is fun,” He watched as you threw him an unconvinced glance, “You can even go first,”

“Fine. Never have I ever invited myself into my neighbor’s apartment to spend the night,” You spoke, waiting for Peter to put down a finger.

“Fine,” Peter gave you a forced smile, putting down a finger. “Never have I ever called hot cocoa, hot chocolate,”

You put a finger down, “Never have I ever gone out in a blizzard just for hot cocoa,” You watched as Peter shifted under the blanket. A smile crossed your lips as you watched him put a finger down.

“Why don’t we start playing fair,” Peter spoke, watching you physically groan.

“Finnneee,” You agreed, head rolling on your shoulders, “But I’ll need a shot so I answer,” Peter’s eyes narrowed at your comment, “I’m fine and you want me to play fair and me playing fair would be me, buzzed enough to admit whatever you’re going to start asking me,”

“Fine,” Peter crossed a leg over his knee as he watched you stand from your spot next to him, “Never have I ever drank because I’m too nervous to sit next to my neighbor,”

You fell silent, hoping Peter would just drop the claim. A shot found its way into your hand as you brought the small glass to your lips.

“Is your finger down?” Peter smiled from his spot on the couch.

You could hear the amusement in his voice and at that, you took another shot.

Peter watched as you returned to the couch slowly, as if you were regretting each step, “We don’t have to play,”

“No- No,” You sat back down next to him, but not nearly as close as before, “I took my shots just- let’s get it over with,”

“Good,” Peter threw the shared blanket back over your legs, “Your turn,”

“Right,” You looked at the two fingers you had already put down, “Umm,” You searched your head for a fair turn. Staring at the ceiling, you only heard Peter shifting closer to you on the couch, “Never have I ever…” Your eyes slowly fell to Peter as he stared back at you, “You’re making this harder than it should be,”

Peter placed his elbow on the back of the couch, his fist holding up his head as a smug smile crossed his handsome face, “Why’s that?”

“Because you’re staring at me,” You spoke, “and I can’t concentrate,”

“I’m just looking at you,” Peter spoke, leaning in a bit, “Do I make you nervous?” He watched as your gaze fell to the floor, “Mm,” He hummed in a confirming tone.

“No- no,” You spoke, looking into his brown eyes, “Peter- No! No-” Your words fell short as Peter extended his arm towards you, it now resting on the back of the couch.

“Okay, just wondering,” He toyed, watching you almost crumble before him, “Never have I ever, what?” He studied your wide eyes that stared back at him. God, he wanted to kiss you.

You took hold on the blanket, bunching the fabric in your hands as you searched for any words to pass through your parted lips. You watched as Peter’s eyes fell to your lips, where they lingered for what felt like an eternity, “wanted to kiss your neighbor,” The words were barely audible, spoken under your breath.

Peter attempted to hold back the smile that threatened to curl his lips, “How many shots did you have?”

“I don’t know why I said that?” You felt as if you wanted to curl up and die. You wanted to pull the blanket over you to shelter yourself from Peter’s eyes.

So that is exactly what you did. Pulling the blanket towards you, it covered your head, allowing you to sink down on the couch, “Y/N,” Peter almost laughed, his tone almost laced with pity. You were silent under the fabric, “...Did you put your finger down?” Peter asked, hearing you almost immediately whine.

Throwing the blanket over his head, he crawled towards you under the fabric, “Peter… please,” You raised your hands, rubbing your temples. The embarrassment ate away at you and you wished you had not taken those shots that made the claim roll off of your tongue.

“How else am I supposed to see if you put your finger down?” He watched as you shot him an unamused look from under your furrowed brows, “Fine,” Peter raised his hand that had two fingers down. He watched as you stared at his hand in the dim lit space the two of you shared, “If you didn’t put your finger down, you’re winning,” Peter spoke as he put down a third finger.

Your gaze left his hand and moved to his eyes. Parting your lips, you searched for the words while your eyes fell to his lips, “I…What neighbor?” You were not sure if you were just playing dumb, or if you had convinced yourself that there was no way Peter could ever like you.

“We’re like the only ones on this side of the stairs,” He laughed.

“Right,” Was all you could reply with as Peter inched, somehow, closer to you.

“Are you putting a finger down?” He questioned. You stared back at him and he studied every inch of your face. Your gaze had fallen, unable to look him in the eyes as you raised your hand. Peter almost held his breath as he watched your finger fall, giving him permission to make the first move.

So he did.

Before you could say a word, Peter’s lips found yours. His lips pressed against your own forcefully and hungrily as he waited for you to reciprocate.

Parting your lips, you let him in. The kiss deepened as Peter brought his hands to your face. His fingers trailed into your y/h/c locks before pulling on them slightly. Pulling you away from him, he stared at you, “I just wanted to make sure, before I kissed you,”

You nodded in his hold, “Yeah- Yeah… thanks,”

“Mhm,” Peter hummed, before bringing his lips to your neck. You jumped at the contact, a small gasp from your lips filled the stale air.

The space you shared under the blanket was dark and stuffy, the air feeling hot and heavy as Peter took the opportunity to explore the bare skin that peeked from under your open cardigan. You almost felt as if you were suffocating, Peter smothering you in affection.

Pulling the blanket off from over the two of you, you took in a generous breath of fresh air, “…Peter,”

At the sound of his name, he bit down on your skin, making you whimper, “Do you want me to stop?”

“No,” You responded almost immediately.

“Then what do you want me to do?” Peter questioned.

You did not have the courage to vocalize all the things you have dreamt of, “Whatever you want,” Whenever you found your mind wandering it was bringing you to Peter having his way with you.

“Be careful who you say that to,” Peter smiled against your skin, “You don’t know all the things I want to do to you,”

Peter’s claim made your knees weak, “L-Like w-hat?” You managed to push out.

Above you, Peter was pouring adoration. It was almost as if it fell, blanketing you in lust, “You want me to tell you?” He questioned, “or… I could show you,” Peter stared down at you, waiting for any sort of response but you would not meet his gaze. You crumbled beneath him, folding into yourself. You wanted to disappear and hide from the lustful thoughts that filled your mind, “Yeah?”

You nodded, face buried into your own shoulder.

“I need to hear you say it,” Peter spoke. He brought his fingers to the soft fabric of your pants, playing with the elastic band.

“Say what?” You managed to ask, looking at Peter out of the corner of your eyes.

“Tell me you want me to touch you,” Peter spoke, watching your eyes widen for a moment, “or kiss you, or anything else,”

“Peter,” You spoke, far too embarrassed to speak those words.

“Or I can stop,”

“No,” Shaking your head, you felt your face heat up from embarrassment.

“Right,” Peter smiled, “Then?” His touch trailed, dipping under the fabric.

“...touch me,” You breathed out, “Peter- please,”

“There ‘ya go,” Peter smiled, “Anything for you,” Hand moving down, it traveled between your legs over the fabric of your underwear. The fabric was soft, almost silk-like against his rough fingertips.

“Mm,” You whimpered as Peter’s touch was gentle, stopping right over your clothed clit. After a quiet laugh, Peter applied some pressure, fingers moving. A small moan made its way past your lips.

“That feel good?” Peter questioned, watching you finally stare back at him. Something behind your eyes shifted, almost as if you were handing him the controls. Your lips were parted as he waited for you to respond.

“Mhm,” You moaned, feeling Peter press down harder. You wished the barrier was gone, wanting to feel Peter’s skin on your own, “P-Pete,”

“What?” Peter asked, “Use your words sweetheart,”

“T-Touch me,” You stuttered.

“I am,”

“For-for real,” Your words were simply, dumbed down under the building pressure of your embarrassment. Peter looked at you, a smug smile on his lips as you fell apart at his touch. You wanted more.

Without a word, Peter’s fingers retreated back up the fabric of your underwear. You were afraid that they would not return, however, you held your breath as his fingers stopped at the waistband of your underwear. Pushing past the fabric, Peter’s fingertips were now lightly grazing your skin, making a shiver travel through you, hardening your nipples.

Peter had no idea how he was being so bold. Maybe because he was acting on his feelings for you alone? He had wanted to do this since you moved in, months after he had found himself all alone and looking for a place to stay. Everyone that once knew him had now forgotten and you were the first person he could start fresh with and he found comfort in that, and in you.

Moving past your clit, Peter’s touch kept moving lower and lower until he reached your wet entrance, “You’re so wet,” Peter almost laughed.

“S-Shut up,”

“It’s like you wanted this for as long as I have,” He spoke, absentmindedly.

Before you could reply, he dipped a finger into you, making you moan.

“So you want me to just touch you?” Peter questioned. He met your gaze from under your lashes. With each thrust of his finger your lashes batted slightly. His middle finger was only knuckle deep but you forgot just how long and slender his fingers truly were, “Hm?”

“Fo-for now,” You replied, focusing on his finger that moved in and out of you.

“Okay,” Peter said, “How’s this?” He questioned, a second finger finding its way into you. The action made you squirm, feet kicking off of the couch’s surface as if you were attempting to run off, “Need you to tell me, Y/N,”

Your heart was racing, rattling inside you as all of your thoughts scrambled inside your head. Surely any words that passed through your lips would not be cohesive ones, “F-f-fine,”

“Just fine?” Peter questioned, taking that as a hint to pick up the pace. So he did and his fingers dipped in and out of you with ease. The rhythm and speed sent waves of bliss through your system, feeling as if Peter’s action could bring you to climax alone.

“N-No,” You whimper, earning a confused remark from Peter, “Your-You’re gonna make me cum,”

“Good,” Peter smiled, “Need me to go faster, baby?” He watched you shake your head in agreement, “Want you to cum for me, okay?” Using his strength to his advantage, he fingered you as fast as you could take it, your quiet moans now became louder and breathy.

“Pe-Peter-” His name left your lips as you felt yourself growing closer and closer to your climax.

“You gonna cum?” Peter questioned, face now lowered. He placed a wet kiss to your jawline as he felt you nod against him.

With each moan that escaped you, you felt your head feel lighter. Peter was making you see stars in more ways than one.

“S-slow- slow down,” You barely spoke, “I’m getting lightheaded,” However, Peter did not stop. He was determined that he could make you cum beforehand.

Leaning back, he brought his other hand to your face. Covering your mouth, he continued to stimulate you, “I’m not going to stop til you cum,”

Your brows furrowed, eyes squeezing shut. You focused on the building climax that you longed to reach, “Peter-“

“Come on baby,” His words were soft as they pushed you over the edge. A smile crossed his lips as your moans became stuttered, “Therrreee you go,” From his tone, you could tell he was pleased with himself. His fingers did not slow as he worked you through your climax, “I can feel you cumming all over my fingers,” He spoke, removing his hand before placing it on the couch next to your head. With his new found leverage, he leaned over you, listening to the moans that still escaped your parted lips.

“You- You gotta stop-“

“But you’re cumming so good for me,”” Peter spoke smoothly in your ear. He watched you physically react to his sensual claim, crumbling next to him.

“I’m going to pass out,” You somewhat laughed, never experiencing this much pleasure before, or at least from just being fingered.

With that claim, Peter slowed his fingers before stopping completely. Then, he realized his strength had completely left his mind, “Did I hurt you?” Peter questioned, studying your face.

“N-No,” You spoke while attempting to catch your breath, “I just- it’s been awhile. And I normally don’t… cum from that,”

“Hm,” Peter hummed, leaning in and placing a kiss on your skin.

“What?” You questioned.

“Nothing,” Peter smiled back at you, “I’m just glad I could make you cum,”

A blush heated your skin as Peter talked about the subject so openly.

“Do you want to stop?” Peter questioned.

“S-Stop?” You asked, wondering what else Peter was planning.

“Or did you want to keep going?” He sat back, thighs flexing under the fabric of his jeans. Seeing the puzzled look on your face, a smile crossed Peter’s lips, “C’mere,” Sitting back against the couch, he motioned you towards him.

Crawling towards him, Peter helped you onto his lap. You swung your legs, straddling his waist. A smile sat on Peter’s handsome face as you studied it shyly. Your eyes followed each freckle that subtly peppered his nose, darker freckles dotted his soft skin, guiding your gaze.

“What?” Peter questioned, watching you study him a bit more intently now.

“Nothing! Nothing,” You quickly replied, embarrassment flooding through you now. You watched Peter laugh as he placed his hands on your legs. His touch trailed up and down, massaging your thighs. The soft fabric of your pants made him forget the weight of his advance, “Peter-”

Leaning forward, he brought his lips to your chest, kissing the skin above your bralette. Removing his hands, he brought them to the button of his jeans. Raising his hips, you felt just how hard he was, as he pushed the fabric of his jeans down his thighs.

His hands fell to the band of your lounge pants, pushing them down slowly, “This okay?” Peter questioned, “If you want me to stop,”

You wanted to reply, tell him how badly you wanted him but your breath caught in your throat. So you kissed him.

The kiss was forced, hungry and out of practice. You moved above him, allowing Peter to remove your pants, “I want you,” You finally whispered, lips inches away from Peter’s.

“Yeah?” Peter questioned with a laugh, “‘Gonna make you feel good,” Pushing his boxers, you watched his dick leap past the fabric.

His heated skin felt relieved by the room’s air, “P-Peter,” Your voice spoke over a sigh that passed through Peter’s lips, “do you… have a condom,”

“Yeah- Yeah,” Peter nodded. Reaching down, he dug his hand into the pocket of his jeans. He pulled out a small box of condoms, the kind that you see at gas stations.

“Did… did you get that at the corner store?” You almost smiled, “With the hot chocolate,”

“Yeah,” Peter spoke as he rolled the condom down the length of himself, “Why?”

“What a purchase,” You almost teased, watching Peter’s gaze shift. His once soft and considerate gaze was now far more dominant, which sent a chill up your spine.

Peter hooked a finger around your underwear, pulling them aside. As Peter lined himself up with your entranced you closed your eyes, preparing yourself for the size of him.

Placing a firm grip on both of your forearms, Peter pulled you down the length of him. A loud moan bubbled from your lips, making your cheeks heat up out of embarrassment, “Therrre you go,” Peter spoke as you began to move above him, “Shit- yeah, just like that,” You bounced on his lap.

You would be lying if you said you felt confident in your actions. However, it had been awhile since you had done anything like this. While you were lost in thought, Peter’s hands wandered over your skin, exploring every inch of you.

“You’re so tight, baby- Gotta relax,” Peter assured. His gentle hands began to slip your cardigan down and off your arms, “You’re squeezing me,”

“Sorry it’s- it’s just been awhile,” You informed him. You watched Peter, he looked as if your claim went in one ear and out the other. Fingertips tickled the skin that sat underneath the band of your bralette, “Peter-“

“Hm?” He hummed, pushing the fabric up and over your breasts.

Your hands flew towards your chest, covering your newly exposed skin. However, you were not modest for long, feeling Peter grab your wrists. Pulling your arms firmly to your sides.

Peter felt you struggle in his hold, making him smile. He used his strength against you and it turned him on. Within the struggle, you stopped riding, warming his dick, “Let me see you,” Peter spoke before realizing your lack of movement, “Did I say you could stop?”

“W-What?” You stuttered at his dominance. Before you could wait for his reply, his hold tightened on your arms, raising you off of him. Your brows furrowed at the strength of Peter’s hold before he pulled you back down on him forcefully. The sound of your skin hitting Peter’s echoed through your small apartment.

Peter moved you, your arousal coating his dick and making him fuck you with ease. His eyes found your breasts, mesmerized as they bounced with each hard thrust that entered you, “Fuckkk,” Peter groaned, “so pretty”

Your dim lite apartment echoed with the sound of skin and your loud moans. The string lights almost illuminated your skin, a slight sweat covering your body as Peter tossed you around above him, “Peter- I’m gon-“ The words could barely vocalize between your moans. 

“Hold on, need you to wait for me-“ Peter spoke, teeth taking in the skin of his lip. Picking you up and off of him, he heard you whimper. Throwing you onto the couch, he bent you over the back of it.

“What are you-“ You questioned, watching Peter move behind you. He pulled his pants down, kicking them off his legs before his hands returned to your skin. Cupping your ass, he rubbed your soft skin. His gentle touch was soon gone as it fell into the fabric of your underwear, beginning to rip them off of you, “Peter!”

He brought a firm hand down onto your skin, spanking your ass. With no warning he entered you again, coaxing a loud moan from your throat, “Want you to cum when I tell you to,” Peter spoke, “Don’t cum until I say so,” His thrusts were equally hard as fast, sending you further over the couch’s back. Your hands reached out behind you, fingers finding the fabric of Peter’s sweater, holding on for dear life.

Peter’s strength was almost unbearable, but you could tell just how close he was so you physically held on until he reached his climax, “Are you going to cum?” You managed to question. Reaching out, your fingers left his sweater, holding yourself off the couch, battling against Peter’s strength, “Please-“

“Yeah- yeah, shittt,” His head fell back slightly as he focused on chasing his high. You almost melted around him, filling Peter’s mind with the dirtiest thoughts, “I’m going to cum, sweetheart. Need you to cum with me, okay?” He watched you nod before focusing on your own orgasm as well, “I’m close- fuck I’m going to cum,”

“Mm please cum,” You begged, arms weak. However, you could not hold yourself up, body falling against the couch’s hard back, “fuck,”

Peter’s swears mixed with your own as he came, filling the condom that was buried deep inside of you. His hands fell, resting on the couch’s back on either side of you. Peter’s head felt heavy as it hung, eyes studying your ass as he pulled out of you slowly.

You groaned below him, sore from how rough Peter had been moments before.

“Sorry,” Peter spoke quietly, “Was I too rough?” You were silent below him, “I was, wasn’t I?” Dipping down, he placed a kiss between your shoulder blades. His kiss traveled to your neck, peppering it in kisses, making a shiver travel through your warm body, “Sorry,” Peter apologized again with a small laugh.

“You’re fine,” You finally spoke, your throat hoarse from your loud moans, “I’m just… sore,” You laughed. Sitting next to you, he helped you get more comfortable on the couch, “Peter,” You spoke, meeting his eyes, “I have a bed, it’s literally right there,”

“…Right,” Peter spoke, eyes leaving yours and falling onto the bed that was literally steps away, “I just… I really needed you,” He looked back towards you, unable to meet your embarrassed gaze, “and you also said how bad you wanted me, sooo,”

“I’m- I’m just saying,” You stuttered.

Awkward silence hung in the air as the two of you sat there.

“I should probably…” Peter trailed off, acknowledging the filled condom that still sat around him.

“Yeah- yeah,” You replied. He stood before you, giving you a small, and kind of awkward, smile. He walked off, disappearing into your bathroom and leaving you to reflect on what exactly just happened.

“How was that?” Peter asked, catching you off guard and making you jump slightly, “sorry,”

“No no I was just-“ You turned your head, “I was thinking about it. Not in a weird way- But how I’d think about doing that and it actually happened-“ Your lips shut as your words played in your own ears. God you sounded like a freak.

“You thought about fucking me?” Peter questioned, finding his spot next to you after putting on his boxers. He watched you crumble, turning your body away from him, “Nooo, no. It’s cute- I thought about you too, but you already know that,” You must have forgotten just how exposed you were to him right now, so he reached out, pulling your bralette back down and over your breasts, “I’m glad I wasn’t the creepy neighbor who thought about fucking you almost every time I saw you,”

“Straight to that?” You questioned, teasing him slightly.

“I know what foreplay is,” He joked back, watching you laugh, “but no, I think about eating you out a lot,” With that claim, he watched your eyes widen, making him laugh, “Maybe I could wake you up that way? On Christmas,”

“Christmas,” You spoke, remembering that you were supposed to be on a late night train back home but instead, you fucked your neighbor.

Reaching out, you grabbed your phone that was on your coffee table. Checking it, the time read 1:02 AM.

“Merry Christmas,” You spoke, eyes leaving the bright screen and falling into Peter’s warm brown gaze, “I kind of wish I got you something… you know since we just did all that,”

“Would…” Peter searched for the words in his head, “How about a date?”

“What?” You questioned. You were worried that tonight was going to be a one night stand, so Peter’s question washed a wave of relief over you, “You want to go out with me? Or I mean- like- a date. You want to go out on a date? With me?” Peter laughed as you rambled before him.

“Yeah,” Peter smiled, “I mean, that’s why I asked. Because I like you,”

“Oh, yeah- Yeah,” You spoke, “Yeah I’d like that,”

“Okay,” Peter laughed, bringing a hand towards your face. Pulling you close, he met you halfway with a sweet kiss, “Merry Christmas,”

#peter parker #peter parker fanfic #peter parker fic #peter parker fan fic #peter parker fanfiction #spider-man #spiderman smut #spider man fanfic #spider man fanfiction #spiderman fanfic #spider-man fanfiction #spider-man fic #spider-man fanfic #spider-man smut #spiderman fanfiction #spiderman fic #spiderman x reader #peter parker x reader #marvel #marvel fanfic #marvel fic #marvel smut

[herzgeist-writes]

11) The Might Of An Emperor

Pairing: Law x fem!reader | Word count: 3.7k | Warnings: Cussing, angst, violence

Dividers by cafekitsune

As time goes by, the Polar Tang docked at a harbour of a grand city isle. Sky scrapers reaching up to the horizon and all kinds of billboards in all shapes and sizes hang on every building, forming a colourful picture before you. Neon lights glaze in the rain puddles on the ground. You tread carefully through the city, seemingly to find something certain. The rain soaks itself into your coat. Passing a little shop in a shady looking alley, you look down to the map in your hands and back up into the darkness. A sign blinks statically in the distance: “Black Rose, guess this is it.”

“Has anyone seen (Y/n)-ya?” - “I think I saw her leaving the submarine an hour ago, Captain!”, Law becomes uneasy. Asking his Vice Commander he nods at him gratefully and dismisses himself to his office. Opening the door he turns on the light and sets Kikoku next to the table. Carefully lighting a match he leads it to a candle, the flame embracing the metal walls with warm light.

“Love for dummies”, amused Law snorts as he reaches out for the book next to the light source. Recalling to that one line he once read out of it. True love is seen by the heart, not by the eye.

The doctor remembers he wanted to bring it back to you, but you rushed off so quickly back then in the kitchen, your head turned all shades of red. It makes him think. The last few weeks have left many impressions, one of them being you. A headache makes itself vacant and Law growls in a vexed tone, taking off his hat and gliding through his raven hair: “Where is this woman?”

In the morning, you sit at the kitchen isle, peacefully eating breakfast and chatting with Bepo and Hakugan. Behind the counter stands Shachi, a dark cloud raining over his sunk in sadness frame. “Oh come on Shachi, it’s not the end of the world.” - “End of the world? You should’ve seen Captain’s face! If I weren’t in the rest room before, I probably would’ve pissed my pants! That guy can be scary as shit! God damn boogey man!” Bursting out laughing, the group holds their bellies and swipes away their tears in the bliss of entertainement.

You wheeze and throw your head to the ceiling: “That’s what makes Captain our Captain!” - “He rather makes me bring my pants to the laundry room more often than anything!” Hakugan giggles and slaps his knee while Bepo tries to hold in his laughter by throwing his paws infront his snout.

That same moment, the surgeon of death opens the door to the kitchen, peeking in before intending to enter, but stops in his tracks as he heard your voice chipper: “Silly! That’s why we all love him, our grumpy Captain being all spooky and aloof.” Shachi sees an opening and sneers maliciously: “Of course we do. We all love him just as much as you do, hmmm?”

The bear and the smiley mask man gasp dramatically and chuckle lowly by that comment. Law on the other hand is flabbergasted. He glances over to you, seeing your head explode and fidgeting in your seat: “F-fuck you! I don‘t know what you‘re talking about!” - “Don’t act all innocent (Y/n), we all know what’s going on between you two!” This makes you cuss out all sorts of bad words and cup your face in your hands, telling him what utter bullshit he’s actually stating.

Hakugan clicks his tongue as he shakes his head: “Denial makes it worse, Lady (Y/n).” The Vice Commander next to him droops his ears and his vibe changes from excessively happy to overwhelmingy depressed. “I wish I had a polar bear lady that likes me.”, he sobs and swishes away little tear droplets.

The Captain takes a closer look at you. Why are you wearing a turtle neck sweater in this weather? It’s 26 degrees outside and the humidity makes it ten times worse. You’ve been around the city alot lately and it concerns him. What is she up to, he wonders.

But for now, Law heard enough and closes the door carefully behind him: “Presposterous”.

Day after day you kept darting to the city. What’s so interesting about smog pested and trash covered streets? Were you seeing someone? The first ounce of jealousy building up in the Captain’s brain. Intoxicating him with thoughts of other men talking big at you, getting your attention or worse. His hand itches to reach for his nodachi and make his way to find you, but at what cost?

You keep too many things from Law, his usually locked away feelings starting to form into a dark red blurry vision before him. Trying to calm down he fidgets around with his fingers, continuously casting a little “Countershock” to get himself distracted by the bolts sizzling between his digits. Even the thought of men standing too close to you, expect his own crew mates, set up a raging flame inside of him. Does he even have the right to do so? Blinded by jealousy the ignorance over takes him.

“Thanks guys! See you tomorrow!”, you cheerfully leave the little shop as you close your coat and make your way back to the Polar Tang, but a shiver runs down your spine, a feeling of being watched triggers your flight response. Picking up the pace you go along the crowded streets, heading to the harbour. Don’t turn around. Just keep on walking.

You feel a sting coming from the skin on your chest and grit your teeth: “I hope this is done sooner than later.” - “What is?” That voice. You jump and squeak lowly as you turn around, seeing your Captain leaning on a building’s wall a few feet next to you. “Good god, don’t sneak up on me like that! What are you doing here?” He musters you and takes a step closer to you, asking you the same thing.

Biting your lips you stutter and shuffle in place: “I- I’m working on a big project at the moment and I’d like to surprise you guys with it!” The man standing across from you frowns and crosses his arms in suspision, not liking the sound of that. “I don’t like surprises.” - “Well, I’m sorry to break it to you, but it’s my decision to make when I tell you something and when not.” This statement leaves a sour after taste on Law’s tongue and he quirks a brow at you.

Only shaking his head he motions you to follow him: “Come on, we’re late for the sparing session.” - “Y-yeah. Ok.”

Back at the harbour you see the crew training and fighting. It’s crucial to stay fit and healthy when sailing the seas and crossing possible encounters with enemies.

Ikkaku stands ready with her weapons offside the group, holding her gun and your daggers in her arms. “Hey honey, ready to kick some butt?” - “You can bet I am!” The woman gives you a warm smile and closes in to your ear, shielding her mouth from eavesdroppers: “Love, what are you doing in the city all the time? Captain’s furious about your absence lately.” You figured, he stalked you through the streets a few minutes ago after all. Clicking your tongue you explain Ikkaku about your plan to surprise the crew with something rather big, something quite emotional and important to you to be precise.

You earn a soft sigh and an understanding nod from the woman next to you and she presses your daggers against you: “I trust you know what you’re doing. But let’s get to some fighting. I’m craving some action after that long time under water!” - “Hit me with your best shot!”

After defeating Ikkaku fair and square, you end up sparing with Jean, a man three times taller than you. He grins at you as he smashes his fists together: “It’s been a while, Wolf Lady!” - “Indeed, Jean Bart! Have at thee!” readying yourself you take in a relaxed defensive stance, a fist comes flying at you. Dodging it with ease you take the opportunity to use the shaft of your dagger as a fist weapon and knock it into the funny bone of Jean’s arm, which is plastered onto the place you originally stood. Jolting up in pain he swings his other hand at you, knocking you back, but another sting pierces his palm.

When his hand had hit you, as a counter attack you pressed sticky clovers into his skin. Usually you would use the poisonous ones, but these are harmless. Impressed the tall man laughs roaringly: “That’s a unique way to fight, little one!” - “One learns a thing or two from an old alchemist.” Beaming at him you two carry on fighting for ten minutes straight.

Law watches you closely, sitting on the meadow in the distance, enjoying the afternoon sun. Ikkaku joined him and took a seat next to him: “She’s good, isn’t she?” The Captain looks over to her and back at you. “Mhm, but she has hidden potential she still hasn’t discovered yet.” Tilting her head, Ikkaku questions him by knocking her fist against her head: “How do you know?” - “I’ve seen it.”

He leans foward, lifting up the tip of his hat. Narrowing his eyes he continues: “She posesses the power of Conqueror’s Haki.” - “Eh?”

“Let’s take a quick break guys!”, Penguin encourages the group to take a breather and the crew mates sit down on the grass, relaxing a bit before continuing.

Still standing in place you prop your hands onto your hips and shout to the crowd with a puffed out chest: “Who wants to fight me next?” - “Oh me! Me, me!” You see Bepo’s paw shoot up in anticipation as he waddles over to you. That bear never ceases to make you smile. Preparing himself he takes in his Kung Fu like stance.

“Beware (Y/n), I’ll let you take part in my greatest move I just recently learned!” - “Ooooh, show me what you got, Vice Commander fluffy paws!”, snickering to himself he takes a swing, time around you feels like it’s in slow motion, his claws pointing at you. As he is about scream his fiercest “Hiiiiiiya-“ he suddenly slumps to the ground, holding his tummy. “B-Bepo! Are you ok?” - “My belly hurts! I’m going to die!” You go down to his level.

The polar bear squirms and yelps in pain. “Shambles!”, is what you hear in the distance and your Captain kneeled down next to you: “What is it, Bepo?” In baby language he explains Law how terribly sick he feels and states that he’s going to die soon. Sweat dropping, the only thing he could do while gritting his jaw is “Scan” his furry patient and check on his symptoms. Bepo looks at him with puppy eyes. “What did you eat?” - “Uuuuum.”, the doctor is not amused by his coy answer.

Quirking a brow at him he pokes a finger into his stomach, earning a deep growl coming from it: “Bepo-yaaa…” - “Alright alright, I ate cheese.” Who would have thought a polar bear mink is lactose intolerant? It explains the air drenching smells wafting over your heads whenever you had cheese and crackers at the table.

“Go take your medicine I gave you.” - “A-Aye Captain.”, the man can’t help but smirk, the bear giving him more work as a doctor than as a Captain.

Getting up on your feet again you keep a look out for a sparing partner. Everybody seems to have someone already and you scratch your head solely. “Oi Wolf, need a competitor?”, Law calls out to you. It widens your eyes to think about a fight against him. For certain, you are not going to win.

But in all honesty, is he being serious? You turn to him and see his trademark smirk, his eyes piercing yours. What was that about boogey man? Granted he looks tremendously intimidating, but gods did that expression melt you. Taking a deep breath you reply with a slight frightend undertone: “Alright, surgeon of death, let’s dance.” He only let’s out a low chuckle by your trying to come off as cool, while preparing his nodachi he comes closer to you: “Don’t hold back for me. Make those daggers to good use.”

It already doesn’t look good for you, his teasing is getting the best of you, making you blush immensly. Stretching out his arm he lets his hand hover loose and a blue hueish gust swirls underneath his palm: “Room.” The sphere expands and engulfs you in itself. Entranced you admire the globe floating above your small frame, it feels extraterrestrial. “(Y/n)-ya focus!”, he shouts as he charges and his nodachi pointed at you.

You manage to parry his assault just in time, your dagger deflecting his blade aside. Now his tall frame stands next to you preparing one of his deadliest attacks. “Countershock”, his thumb dangerously lights up with electric bolts and shoots closer to your sides. Throwing a smoke bomb to the ground you evade him, the explosion leaving the area fogged up densly.

The doctor and you get the attention of your crew, cheering on either you or him. „Give it your all (Y/n)!“ - „Go Captain!“

Scanning the area with his ability, Law seeks you out in the distance: „Playing hard to get?“ He discovers you and sees an opening, your concentration is faltering. As always in dream land, (Y/n)-ya, he smiled inwardly. With a strong heave of his weapon he blows away the fog. The Captain raises his backhand, the index finger slowly lifting, the inked DEATH on his digits now facing you. „Takt“, the earth beneath you swallows your whole body except for your head. In pain you groan out, fury rising up inside you.

The surgeon of death storms at you, holding out to you: „Mes-“ Just before he could steal your heart through your confinement, a loud hiss of steam shoots up right under his feet. Staggering he lets go of his blade stares at you baffled. „Oh, you didn‘t expect that, did you Captain?“, you smirk and start to brickle down the earth caging you in.

One more kick with your knee and you can wriggle yourself out of Law‘s trap: „Do you like my sea water steam pedal mine? Comes in handy when fighting devil fruit users, am I right?“ He curses under his breath and stares at you through half lidded eyes. You press yourself against him, glazing your finger nails along his chest through his vest. The surgeon follows your every move. He‘s completely out of breath, energy being drained by the water steam. The facial expression he takes in reminds you of that incident where the Polar Tang dipped and he crashed on top of you. Wait, aren‘t you supposed to fight now?

Anyway, it looks like he gave up by the look of his hat shadowing over the upper half of his face. Whispering softly you lean up to him: „What‘s wrong, Snow Leopard, Wolf got your tongue?“ The mine on the ground begins to malfunction and the steam stops engulfing the both of you. Oh no. It was great knowing you (Y/n).

The most devilish smirk crosses the man’s lips, glaring at you with a hint of bloodlust in his steel orbs: „I think your pedal mine needs some maintenance, Wolf.“ He grabs you by your collar and ports you two away from the mine to make sure it doesn‘t suddenly function again. Kikoku is swinged at your throat, but you fend it of with one of your daggers, right next to your face. „Nice try.“, Law muses. You push him off of you and gather yourself a few feet away from you. This fight is unpromising, you barely can keep up with his power. As a non devil fruit user you are at a grave disadvantage.

„Come on (Y/n)-ya, you‘re holding back! Don‘t rely on tricks and feints all the time!“ - „This is all I have to offer!“, you two scream at eachother as if you‘re hundreds of meters apart. He infuriates you with his patronizing teasing and his overly confident scoff. You charge at him with all the strength you have, only for him to use his power to stand a couple of meters away from you again. So Law draws his last card, to make you use your hidden power, although he‘s not fond of it, but there are things he is eager to find out more about as well.

„Stop keeping things from me! You know god damn well how irritating it is!“, he grits his teeth, in hopes to find your crux. Growling you clench your fist around the dagger‘s hefts, not replying to his mind trickery. Narrowing his gaze at you he snarls: „Did you find some boy toys that help you overcome your past, (Y/n)-ya?“ Realising what he just said, he freezes in place, his eyes widening seeing you trembling before him. Instantly regretting the words that left his lips out of jealousy.

You can hear your crew mates around you gasp and whisper to each other in worry. Ikkaku’s glance switches between you and the Captain with glistening eyes herself, holding her delicate hands before her agape mouth.

„How dare you think of me as such a low level scum, Trafalgar Law! Why do you even give a fuck about my shit? It‘s not like you!“ Tears forming in the corners of your eyes. This must have hurt you terribly, especially hearing his full name coming from you in a strained voice. It tears up Law to see you like this, the sting in his heart growing terribly painful, but he almost hit the spot, he can‘t stop quite yet, for he needs to see your full potential.

The Captain readies his hand for another attack, slowly walking towards you: „Do you want to know why I give a fuck?“ Holding in the tears you bite down on your tongue, looking up at him while being a sniffling mess. He barks at you hatefully: „Because I care about you, woman!“ - „STOP!“

Every last crew member falls to their knees or passes out immediatly after you screamed your lungs out in pure rage. Even Law‘s legs gave out beneath him and lifts his head to observe your shivering frame, a chuckle escaping his lips as he smirks knowingly to himself: „Will you look at that. That‘s an empress to you.“

You feel yourself sink to the ground, seeing your crew fall like this gives you a feeling of overbear and intrigue. Was it your doing? What happend? For a second you blacked out after hearing your Captain‘s state of feelings towards you. Is he being earnest? Is he twisting your mind?

The questions won‘t stop rushing through your head, staring blanky at the grass under your palms. Suddenly you feel a heavy arm wrap around your shoulders: „(Y/n)-ya, you have no idea how powerful you can be, do you?“ - „Did you anger me on purpose, just to see that…thing?“ Earning a sigh from the man huddling you up against him, he tilts down his head.

Tears roll down your face, your knuckles clench into the fresh green gras: „Captain, with all due respect, you‘re a fucking…bastard.“ He huffs in amusement and turns to you: „I must apologize for my reckless choice of words and behaviour. It wasn‘t my intent to make you suffer this way.“ Your gaze is still fixated on the ground, salty droplets falling of your cheeks, watering the earth below.

Law lays Kikoku aside and gently glides his adorned fingers over your jaw and chin to make you look up at him: „I wanted to be completely sure, that what I saw back in Antra Town, is true. (Y/n)-ya, you are blessed with the power of Emperor‘s Haki.“ - „F- fu-. Haki?! I didn‘t feel anything when it happend. Did I hurt anyone? Did I…hurt you?“

Like a little girl you stutter and apologize over and over again. There she is. Mellow warmth spreads over the Captain‘s face seeing you all flustered and worried, he pats your back: „Don‘t worry, we just got knocked out.“ - „Just? Doctor, please check on them!“ Getting up he hums lowly, offering a hand to you.

Hesitant at first, you place yours into his and let him lift you off the ground. Still sniffling you wipe away the tears: „S-sorry.“ - „Apologize again and I won‘t let you call me that nickname anymore.“ This sudden change in his demeanor makes you laugh. You feel his warm palm on your head, ruffling your hair subtly: „I went too far. Let‘s go check on the others, it shouldn‘t be too fatal.“ - „Not too- hah? I feel bad for hurting them!“ Law‘s expression stayed serious and neutral through out the conversation.

There are still questions that the doctor would like answered. Nonetheless, he can‘t approach you like this, not in this state of mind. The feeling of jealousy makes him roll his eyes, it‘s getting way to burdening. Though in his case to never have indulged himself into love affairs, he knows exactly where this is leading. How can he stop it? Does he want it to stop? Will she even reciprocate? He hears you apologize to your crew mates, waking them up carefully as you pat their shoulders or cheeks.

Thinking back to the night where he lost all his sensations, the surgeon of death can‘t help but feel the anxiety rise up in him. And now, you have a surprise for the whole crew planned. His curiosity is driving him mad, he will definitly need to be careful when bringing up the regarding topics that happend recently. How come it is difficult to communicate with you? It never has been before, why now? It doesn‘t make any sense to Law.

„E-eeeeeeeh?! G-guys what happend here?!“, Bepo came back from his compartment, where he took his medicine. The scene before him making his fur stand up. „Bepo!“, you and the Captain call out in unison.

#one piece #one piece law #trafalgar one piece #law x female reader #law x fem!reader #x reader #law x y/n #fanfic fluff #fanfiction #beautiful mind #+18 #+18 content

[potterandpromises]

if brokenness is a work of art, surely this must be my masterpiece

I finished Only Murders In the Building last weekend and these two have taken over my brain. Predictably, I needed to write the missing space between when Theo sees Mabel on the subway and when she wakes up in his bed ASAP.

As it isn’t clear whare Theo’s new apartment is, I choose to set it in the Arconia, because there’s something heartbreaking about the idea of him walking into a building full of people he’s known (of) his whole life, none of whom he can turn to for help.

The title is from Neptune by Sleeping at Last.

Also on AO3

Theo catches up with Mabel a block from the subway entrance. She’s stopped fleeing, stands under a streetlight pole, gaze unfocused, a bloody object griped in her hand.

He gets ready to bear hug her in case she turns and steps into traffic at the sight of him.

“Are you hurt?” he signs slowly, carefully mouths the words.

She looks up, looks right through him.

He glances over his shoulder. A few people are staring, but at least nobody’s whipped out their smartphones. Yet.

“That blood on your sleave isn’t yours, is it?”

She doesn’t react, doesn’t even look down to see what he’s indicating. It wouldn’t make a difference if she knew ASL. Not tonight. Probably, her reaction would be the same if he spoke English or Icelandic. He’s not even sure she recognizes him through her fog. That might be for the best.

He slouches, makes himself a little smaller, takes another step towards her.

“Let me take you back to my apartment,” he signs, “so you can rest.”

In his peripheral, some guy pulls out his phone. Theo takes a chance. He puts one arm around Mabel’s shoulder.

She lets him.

With his free hand, he pries what he realizes is a blood-covered knitting needle from her fingers. She watches his hand, face imperceivable.

He shoves the knitting needle into a side pocket, keeps his arm around her shoulder, and gently but firmly turns her around.

One foot in front of the other, he tracks the looks from strangers, the sidewalk before them, and Mabel’s face. 15 minutes, he pulls her along and she doesn’t open her mouth once, as far as he catches.

He guides her through a side entrance of the Arconia. It’s five flights of stairs to his new apartment.

She begins to shiver. Theo sweats under his coat.

He unlocks the door, leads her to his bed and pulls the comforter onto her lap. Belatedly, he wonders if she’ll get the wrong idea, maybe punch him in the face. He can’t say he wouldn’t forgive her. Immediately.

Her shaking becomes less violent. She looks around the room, bewildered. He turns off the overhead light and switches on the lamp. Without warning, she starts to pull at her coat as if it were strangling her.

He steps in, ready to help her out of it, and takes in her baby blue sweater. He triple checks that the blood really does belong to her attacker.

She stops struggling and glares up at him. Her coat still clings behind her shoulders.

“Sorry.” He helps her out of it, drops it in a pile on the foot of his bed.

Theo walks the few feet to his couch, tries to feel less creepy. This would all probably be easier if he had a female friend to call. Or anyone.

“I will sleep on the couch tonight.” He gestures to it, makes himself very clear. “Try to rest now, you’ll feel better in the morning.” Hopefully, anyway. “Goodnight.”

Mabel stares at him dully. Her head tips forward slightly and, to his utter shock, she flops backward into his pillow.

His chest is tight. He doesn’t care to examine why. Mabel rolls onto her side, adjusts a hoop earing, and goes still.

He’s still. For what feels like hours but must only be a few minutes, he is frozen in place.

Hot. He’s hot.

He takes off his coat and empties the pockets, leaves the Coney Island badge on the coffee table and washes the knitting needle clean under the tap.

Groceries. He’d meant to get groceries. It’ll have to wait, of course. Sleep will have to wait, too. He’s too wired.

He sits on the couch and pulls out his phone to occupy himself. He means to google tips on how to deal with a person in shock, just in case he’s missed something important, but he opens Twitter instead.

#bloodymabel is trending again.

#theobel #only murders in the building #theo dimas #mabel mora #fanfiction #my fanfic tag #fic: if brokenness is a work of art surely this must be my masterpiece #on the off chance anyone who hasn’t watched omitb wants to read this #please tell me what you think! #i’m so curious how this reads without context

[notmuchtoconceal]

( o ) goodimpressionofmyself

for @ashevilleleatherboy

dust motes fell under the hot studio lights. if he could close his eyes, every pore of every brick in the wall would burn in afterimage on the back of his retina. it must have been months. someone had to be looking for him. someone must have wondered where he was. with each passing day, it was harder for him to remember who he had been before entering this room

some things were clear. he remembered walking home from school. barking dogs. sirens in the distance. in the dark, he kept his hood up and his eyes down, still out of breath, the fuzz of his sweater soaked with sweat, the low resonant ache of a body put through the ringer. teammates said he was dedicated, and yeah. he was dedicated, but to tell you the truth most nights he’d rather be at practice than at home. used to be that late in the season, with sectionals approaching, practice could run as late as eight o’clock at night

now it was post season and he was poised to compete individually at the state level. had the whole gym to himself most nights, and that was okay by him. he had to be dedicated. he was used to it. always scrappy, wiry, ready for a scrape, he’d gotten used to going to bed hungry, and didn’t need to adjust to skipping meals to keep weight. now this had become his meal ticket. if he couldn’t get a scholarship to a decent school, best he’d be able to manage’d be becoming a bricklayer like his old man. trying not to slug the fucker every day. another nobody. working himself to the bone, coming home covered in filth, back broken at fifty, drinking the pain away, looking back on his life and wondering where the hell he’d fucked up

hey. at least he couldn’t knock up the guy he was seeing on the dl and get stuck with a kid he never wanted. it was a convenience, nothing more. barely a mutual shame. his guy’d been tainted by the miasma round here. the resentment which so saturated the air, it almost composed another molecule, settling like debris on the cushion of the lungs. he couldn’t get close, even to the man he was closest to. wouldn’t let himself get kissed without feeling like a fag, push back if he laid a hand on his shoulder. this place was a bear trap and with every trod on the ground you were always one misstep away from the teeth slamming shut

even a twenty minute bus ride was enough to get him to let his guard down. new building. contours of stone and glass. no lead in the pipes, no possums in the walls. at school, nobody’d ever try to tear him down. he could smile and put on a brave face knowing nobody knew what trash he really was. he still never got close to anyone. whether that was by choice, or the sum totality of his past conditioning, he couldn’t say. always felt like there was a wall between him and other people. like he was a spectator to his own life. like the person he heard talking was a skilled impressionist mocking him for a failing he couldn’t perceive. nobody’d expected anything of him before, and every line of praise received he processed with a distanced skepticism it’d taken almost four years to shake off. people looked up to him. that was real. there was a place in the world where he was admired, wanted, and could fit in. the idea kept him going. he’d get far away from here soon enough. get far away and never come back

there was this brochure for a prep school, that was another thing he could still remember. rich kid place out in the country. polo field. river adjacent for the crew team. old stone masonry wafting the decrepit stink of elitism and privilege. figure’d it be a different kind of trap. the equivalent of sidestepping the clamp of rusty teeth and stumbling face-first into a human sized strip of flypaper

there was freedom, no doubt, in being a nobody. he could go wherever he wanted, but never stay too long. not having a future meant one wasn’t dictated to you. being ignored meant you never had to feel the heat of someone breathing down your neck. for the price of staying still and sinking further in the mire, any hollow comforts could be yours for a night. the booze, the boob tube, the shot of morphine before they harvest your kidney

he heard somewhere once–was it his mother? grandmother?–that most people never got anywhere because they preferred the devil they knew to the devil they didn’t. it was a quaint phrase. conjuring up a magical world that no longer was, that nonetheless still existed in the hearts of the people he knew, overlaid like a color filter on the urban landscape. where cracks broke backs, the partition of a lamp pole carried ill omen, and dead women could be glimpsed by candlelight through the medium of a bathroom mirror. some divine spark, they said, elevated the human body to more than meat made to tread single-file on the factory floor, anodyne and frightened, never seeing, never giving any true inkling, to the slaughter ahead. monsters had not troubled his sleep since early childhood, but he saw them every day out in the light. in suits, ties and uniforms. keeping the peace. assuring us that everything was gonna be all right

fucked here, fucked there, didn’t matter

there was no way out

whatever faith to which he could still cling rested on the shifting foundations of an echo reverberating through this memory. the soft, sweet words spoken by a faceless woman at an age time had reduced to billowy haze

bent over a bare mattress, the brochure almost slipping out of his fingers, hard red pixels counting down to 2 AM, he figured the best thing he could do for himself was finally meet a devil he didn’t know

there was breathing

heavy, haggard breathing

his thighs still in his singlet, he could feel the cold pouring over his head. it was going everywhere. the slime splattering on his arms and legs, running over his shoulders, and into the cleavage of his pecs. it pooled around his dick, soaking into the thin, tattered lycra he’d worn almost every day for the past four years. the heat and the wetness around his loins. a memory of childhood, hazy as the faces he no longer saw. the slime filled up his seat and began to trickle down his leg, filling the heel of his ratty old wrestling shoes

he wanted to get up. he couldn’t hold his hands straight

the heavy iron held him there

heard the rattle of the chains around his feet

there was somewhere he needed to be. something that made him wanna cry

and another hand was on his

calloused. leathery. the knuckles almost canine with yellow hair

a man’s hand. bigger than his

his hand was a man’s hand too, though a hand fresh to manhood. strong, veiny, but soft and still void of the desiccation and discoloration that comes from years of labor. the veal-like quality of his skin made him feel small. the way that hand, with the dirt deep in the beds of cracked nails, wrapped around his made his head woozy. he wanted to lie down, but it was tight around his neck

easy

go back to sleep  

and to a vibratory shushing through phlegm, he sank back into that warm dark 

and from the dreamless abyss, he awoke into exhaustion, his hands coated in a congealed layer of translucent, petroleum-colored sap

palm flat, the pressure adhered the skin to a wooden surface. pinky and ring fingers splayed, veins bulging, a rigid plasticity had already merged the pointer, middle finger, and thumb into a single digit. when he tried to move, only the ridge above the ballpoint of the wrist would even half-bend. his head wouldn’t budge. something cold and gelatinous was still wet around his neck, and colder above that was the rattle of a padlock. leather pressed tight against his face. the double-exposed blur of straps crossed over the sides of his nose and something bit at the roots of his hairline. he could manage to jerk his elbow and knees, banging bones against wood and metal. pressure coursing through the soft sponge beneath, he heard screams muffled by his own sealed mouth

the crash of a metal door sent him silent

the squeak of rubber boots against wood marched and stopped

all he could hear was his own breath, feeling eyes on him, the cozy, invasive non-heat of another body

and then the laughter

first he felt the cool of heavy industrial rubber at the nape of his neck. a grip tugged at his hair, jerking his head so fast it hit the back of his skull. a man stared back with eyes as blue as the baltic sea, and smiled with a mouth carved from a serrated butcher saw, exposing rows of pistol-flattened shark teeth

hey there, lil bro

not cool to doze off in class, even when you’re lucky enough to be gettin a free ride

his voice was a rasp through rusty pipes, the vowels elongated past deformity. the skin was pulled so impossibly tight there seemed to be no muscle between it and the bone beneath. along the vault of his cranium and the razor edge of his jaw, the pale birch of his hair had been buzzed to stubble, lending a brutish utility to his broad, asymmetrical skull

only gonna say this once, so pay attention. we’re a private institution. that means no financial support from the federal government. donor money only. we don’t give out cash we don’t expect to make back, you hear me? you work for us now, lil bro. we own that cute lil ass’a yours

the man leaned closer, the grip tugging so tight it felt as though the force would uproot his scalp  

round here, they call me teach. could say it’s my job to mold the future achievers of tomorrow. and i do mean mold lil bro, haha

he was lucky enough that he could still move his eyelids. still close his eyes and pretend that this could all go away

he felt the weight of his tears give way and roll hot down his check, wetting the underside of the muzzle. the breath now hitting his face carried the caustic, sour fumes of cheap whiskey. with a long, controlled lap a different heat, a different wetness circled the crest of his cheekbone

crying, alone and in the dark, he heard the words

gonna be my pleasure to get you acclimated to your new academic career

next thing he remembers, that man was breathing through a heavy rubber gasmask and respirator, spraying down his shoulders with an instrument like an airbrush. he was trying to bend his neck, trying to look down at what bare patches of skin still remained. a jolt struck him hard against the right temple, cushioned only by the slick of the cool rubber

don’t fuckin move, lil bro! neck’s gotta set in that position, and if it don’t i gotta fuckin scrape it off and start again. you want that, lil bro? me sittin here peelin the shit off you by hand? heh. maybe you do. maybe you like these lil one on one sessions with your pal teach, don’t ya bro?

he tried to beg with his eyes. pour any piteous humility he could into a few inches of pale blue shimmer. the attempt was met with laughter

fuck, you’re cute lil bro. gotta admit, i love when my bros do shit like that. suffer for me. get nice and fucking puppy stupid. pathetic little displays like that make my day, lil bro. get my dick rock fuckin hard

tell ya what. maybe i won’t throw the welding goggles on ya. maybe i’ll just spray this shit right over your eyes and seal em in that position with the rest of ya. moisture sealed like fuckin bathroom caulk and you’ll cry and cry til your fuckin tear ducts rupture inside that fuckhead’a yours. you want that?

and like that he was in the dark again, sobbing and alone. he’d never missed home before. never missed the nights he’d laid awake listening to his old man scream at his girlfriend, but anything was better than this. the rape of even being spoken to by that drunken fuck. the loneliness of lying in bed with the guy he’d thought he could call his own, feelin a gulf of six inches he’d knew he’d never cross. he wished he’d never applied. just accepted his lot in life. ground himself down into bonemeal and at least pretend it was a choice

a chill ran down this spine when he felt the slick of a rubber clad finger gentle against his temple. still red from being struck. for a moment, he wasn’t alone. he was back in that blurry heat of the long ago, feeling another’s arms around his, the acceptance so forward and unconditional. he sat, still afraid, feeling the humiliation of his passivity at this moment of tenderness

disgusted with himself

disgusted that he could feel so calmed

he opened a single eye halfway, and saw that man staring down at him with a neutrality that bordered on warmth. the caress glided down his cheek and became the flat of a stroke against his jaw. a near cradle around the back of his skull. he felt the electric current of close contact, felt breath on the hairs of neck

i mean it, lil bro. it’s gonna hurt if i have to do this again. gonna tug on your skin. might need to use the heavy strippin chemicals. gonna burn

i can tell you’re a fighter, lil bro. you’re doin great. lotta guys i do this to don’t hold up so well. doesn’t have to hurt, y’know. can relax and let ol teach take care of ya. whaddya say, huh?

that man’s hand fondled his bulge. a jolt of bliss ran through him. he tried to whimper, but found himself silent and sedated by that raspy, gentle shush. stroking softly, working the shaft through the lycra until he was good and hard, the electrical spike of every nerve ending from head to base bombarded his brain. it felt good. much too good. better than when he’d bate after smoking a bowl. the slit now as dewy as his eyes, he cried into the leather protuberance behind his muzzle, half in shame, half for more

this was sick. so fuckin sick. what this man was doin to him

how could he keep him here and tell him it’d be okay. how could he have the balls to come off soundin so fuckin nice

teach was scratching him behind the ear, smiling in a way which no longer seemed predatory. a tender smirk. his teeth only showin on one side, the flesh of his cheek bunched up and red. there was flesh there. on his face

nobody’d ever looked at him like that before. maybe they did. maybe he didn’t notice. maybe then he didn’t believe em, wouldn’t have believed em. but now he had to look. he had to look, but he didn’t have to believe

you’re a beautiful fuckin guy, lil bro. bet you was just swimmin in pussy back where you came from

he didn’t think he had time to respond. teach must’ve saw something in his eyes

nah, lil bro?

teach leaned back, smirking almost whimsically, arms folded over his heavy rubber apron

he went away, his rubber boots squelching. the clashing of a file cabinet rang out. a cone of light shifted, throwing shadows over the rafters. and the squelching came back, bending. the shriek of a metal chair scraped his ears and the rubber of the boots rested warm on his hands

shit, lil bro. we were practically neighbors, haha. no wonder you’re so fuckin tough. so on edge

the spring screeched. teach was back on his feet, hands rubbery on his shoulders, eyes locked with his

well let me tell ya somethin, lil bro. i get ya. i get ya better than ya think. they don’t get men like us back there. men with passion. day, in day out, they tear themselves down, and try to take us down with em. now that’s not gonna happen here, lil bro. i don’t break my boys down. i build em up. but ya gotta trust me first, lil bro. you think you can trust me?

again he spoke before there was enough time to think

yeah, i get it lil bro

he threw up his hands with a conversational diplomacy

trust don’t come easy for ya. hey. who can blame ya? i’ll treat ya right though, lil bro. you’re not like the other boys i do this kinda thing to. you’re different, man. you’re a keeper. might take me awhile, but i’m gonna make you realize how special you are to me. how special you shoulda been to those fucks back home

he sat with the blur of vision unfocused

he wanted to believe this. god help him, he wanted to believe this

he wanted to believe it the way he wanted to believe his coaches, his teammates, his teachers when he studied hard and managed to keep up with his classes. the way his dad’s girl’d get after she was too shitfaced to walk, and told him that he really did love him

teach slid the gasmask back down. he said, with body language that winked

now you do as i fuckin say, lil bro, and don’t budge. otherwise i’m gonna have’ta fuckin deadbolt ya to that desk

and he laughed. he laughed like they were best buds

reaching under the desk, he gave him another few tugs. so firm, but so light. the skin of his uncut cock bunched and squeezed around the head in a wreath of liquid fire. an ether warmth seeping throughout his body in fluid waves. the protestations emitted were weak, and would’ve been even without the muzzle. teach pulled his hand away, trailing the long glistening spider silk of pre soaked through his bulge

you’re a good boy, lil bro

if you stay a good boy, maybe tomorrow we’ll finish up

when left alone, he’d feel nothing

his body would grow stiff and aching from sitting in the same position for so long. something in the resin must’ve acted as a balm. his skin was warm. it tingled. it cycled from the pain of a dull scrape into the resonant pleasure of pure sensation, triggering with mechanical predictability muffled groans through his gag. something hard sat in his ear. some kind of plastic. he couldn’t tell if it was part of the spray layer or something else. what felt like wires would occasionally brush against his neck, dulled by the coating on his skin

through a low hum and the soft static, he thought he could hear voices. reassuring voices. sometimes’d he try to focus and listen in on what they might be saying, but usually he’d just fall asleep. he was tired. didn’t matter if it was day or night, night or day–not that, in this windowless room, he had much frame of reference–whatever time it was, he was always tired

after the second day of spraying, teach’d waken him up with a tap to the head from a paint scraper, and peeled his hands from the wood. he couldn’t move his neck any longer, nor the entirety of his shoulder girdle. his legs were still free, and so were his arms below the elbow. teach’s hands held his back gently as he spoke the marching him away from the desk

take it easy, lil bro. you don’t want to hurt yourself

though the way his neck had set kept his gaze tilted upward, he could see he was being lead to a wooden scaffold in the wall, holding three boards cut with semi-circles of varying size. beside it, a heavy iron vat with an attached plastic tube hissed softly from some internal mechanism

handling him like prized china, teach’d placed him in the recess of the scaffold, pinning him to the wall with the central board, its wide, singular semi-circle snugly accommodating his waist. moaning, and trying to wriggle free, the unfinished wood bit into the skin of his soft, sparsely hairy belly

i told you lil bro, be a good boy

teach fondled his balls. the soft, spongy tissue quivered more than winced under the pressure of the slick, heavy rubber. waves of pleasure liquefied the inside of his skull, and as he succumbed to the sensation. going lax and leaning back, the grit of the wall scratched at his scalp. shushing and prodding, reaching up to stroke his hair and press a finger to his muzzle, teach’d managed to shackle his ankles with the two smaller holes of the bottom plank. from there, the top plank with its wide central cut and smaller side-cuts pressed up against the underside of his armpits and accommodated his biceps with ease

gonna open the front of your muzzle now, lil bro. promise me you won’t scream, okay?

unclasping the buckle around the back of his neck, the plug in his mouth slid out

“please…”

shhh. don’t talk, lil bro

his voice cracked

“lemme… lemme go”

you beggin lil bro? or you wonderin if you mean it

“i… i don’t want this”

sounds like you do

“i don’t want this. c’mon, man”

teach was kissing his neck. kissing him through the solid encasement of his neck. he could feel every caress of his lips, every scrape of his stubble with the intensity of chemical burns and rusty nails

i know it seems hard to accept now, lil bro…

mmphhh

but you’re gonna be happy here…

ugghhh

and pulling away, he stroked his chin through his muzzle

it’s been a couple days. i know you gotta be hungry

he could hear flesh engorged, ruffled behind the rubber apron

without quite thinking, he blurted out 

“people’re looking for me. i was was sectional champ. i coulda been state champ. someone’s gonna wonder where i am, they musta saw your–”

nobody’s lookin for you, lil bro

he said it calmly

so calmly it could only be a cushion to a hard blow

i know it hurts, man. but your family? those people you thought were your friends? they don’t care about ya, lil bro. at best, you were a means to an end. at worst, you were just someone who got in the way. if they coulda gotten what they wanted outta ya, they’d just toss ya aside

ya weren’t nothing more than trash to em, lil bro

his eyes were going unfocused again

that was the first thing teach’d said he didn’t have any trouble believing

it was difficult with the scaffolding in place, but teach’d gotten close to him. almost managed to hold him. the distance of this awkward half-hug lacked any of the guilt that came with his dad, was more than he’d ever gotten from the guy he’d used to see on the dl

just sit tight. i’m gonna take care of ya, i promise

into the opening of the muzzle, he inserted the front of the plastic tube from the metal vat. an attachment like a contoured nipple pressed almost against the back of his mouth. corrugations around the base of the tube swiveled into the front of his muzzle and locked it in place

you ready? i’m gonna turn the machine on now

he flipped the switch. flipped the switch again. tapped on the canister

hmm

ah!

with a snap of the fingers, he pointed to a vintage laundromat sign, half-obscured by dust and cobwebs

25¢

he patted the front of his apron. the bare flesh of his thighs and ass. it was only then, hearing the clammy resonance of skin on skin that he realized this man was naked except for his boots

damn

hey, you got a quarter, lil bro?

before he realized he didn’t have time to speak, he realized teach was already gonna respond, and it was that predictable fact, more than the request itself, that made him snort through his muzzle

hey, don’t give me that look, boy

teach got close again, and went in behind his ears

oh, what’s this?

a groan half in jest, he clenched his lips and tugged

on a streamer of slime, teach held a quarter before his eyes

hey, look at that lil lbro! you’re a magic boy

a drop of the coin and bursts of hot air shot out of the base of the vat, and up his leg. a thick, syrupy globbing came with the motor hum, pouring into the tube. coming fast, it was in his mouth and down the back of his throat. what little of it he could taste around the plastic nipple had a gruel-like consistency, the faint liquorice-like sweetness of artificial vanilla. he couldn’t reject it. any attempt to spit it back out just made him gag. into his violated esophagus, the substance continued to run, micro-layer after micro-layer coating his throat on the way down. a stiffness like eating raw peanut butter

you won’t ever go hungry again, lil bro. this hardening agent is a special type of silicone that NASA’d thought have some application in space travel, but uh… didn’t go so well for them. it’s gonna slow down your metabolic functions, pulse, cell respiration, by coating the inside of your stomach, where it’ll seep into your blood stream and from there to the heart. everything below the colon’s gonna be sealed off. no movement. can’t force it out. not a chemist or anything, but the way i hear it the shit’s vitamin rich, and the way it reacts with your stomach acid just makes more of it, basically turning your gut into this sorta rubber cement churner. don’t ask me why they couldn’t find any on-label uses for the shit. probably ‘cause they couldn’t figure out how to unstick it once it’s stuck

it wasn’t long before he felt his stomach bloated. felt like he had to shit. he couldn’t budge his bowels. the low tension on the inside hummed into a pleasant numbness like what happens after you hold it in too long

lay back. let it happen, lil bro. we’re gonna make something beautiful together here. that’s you. you’re beautiful. and now you’re finally gonna meet some people who’ll be able to understand that

from some imaginary pocket, teach produced and clacked the blades of a pair of shearing scissors

let’s get you outta that lil red lie first. won’t be needing it here, bro

as the machine continued to pump, teach tugged on the front of his singlet, and kept up the tension. flecks of the sap cracked and flaked as the fabric came unmoored from his skin. slicing a hole straight up the front, he stuck his hand inside and pantomimed fingering a pussy with the cleavage of his pecs

fuck, i love bony fishboys like you. so satisfyin to beef up

from that same non-existent pocket, he pulled a jumbo sized white plastic jar, and began to massage his abs with pale wax. the tips of his fingers, so firm, so relaxing, prying into every pore, deep into the tissue of every muscle. the low hum, the static, the words he couldn’t make out still whispered so softly in his ear. but he let it happen, he sank into the noise as teach’d continued to speak

we’ve had many boys here, lil bro. boys who never knew their worth. knew they were worth something, sure, but always had to deny it because they didn’t come from good homes. didn’t come from good schools. now there’s no denying it. they gave up their pasts, the feeling they were never good enough. they gave up trying to make themselves useful, and they became valuable assets for this fine institution. 90% graduation rate. nothin but good homes from here on out

with every word, he alternated between the scissors and the jar. cutting off more of his singlet, exposing new skin to massage. the handle quickly became lubed and slippery, and the reckless flair with which teach snapped and threw the scissors nicked the uneven crests and plateaus of the amber. lil bro gagged on the paste with each wince from the metal edge

this is going to keep you pliable, poseable. used to be you were tough on the outside, lil bro, now it’s gonna be the other way around. your muscles’ll stiffen, but this’ll keep you soft. stop you from snapping if we bend you too far. this varnish’ll moisturize and preserve the skin, replace the collagen with something closer to plastic. your nerves’ll still be there, still send signals. you’ll still feel touch, temperature, tickle

like this

goochy goochy goo

you’ll be warm under the display lights. you’ll still sweat. we’ll still be able to smell you, though your musk’ll be a bit more uh… rubbery. wiry body’ll get beefed up on the high cal stiffening paste. type of jock toy broldable you’re gonna be’ll need to be sponged on occasion. more like oil than the perspiration you’re used to, but we’ll smear it around like vaseline. take a nice, fine cloth, and work it deeper into the skin, your own personal polish and moisturizer, haha

and the massage felt so good. he felt himself melting into every push of his synapses, every word through the soft hum of the machine and haze. all the while teach’s hand was moving down his abs, past his v-taper, lower and lower

speaking of polish, lil bro… i think you’ve been a good enough boy

pulling the disembodied leg bands down to his ankles, teach looked up at his lil bro’s chin, and tore away the last remains of tattered singlet

which he’d cut into a thong

his cock rising to meet him, teach’d taken it in hand, sending pulsations up his spine and through his lats. back arched, quivering, he remembered a past which seemed both near and distant. the years at his private jesuit high school. the brunches and functions. the royce his father the statesman had gifted him on his 16th birthday. how he loved that car. loved that car his father’d gifted him

he remembered his first dalliance with a boy from the crew team he spied one fine morning as he sat on a blanket by the river, watching him carry his single scull in from the dock. the sly smile, the bulge in that ridiculously filmsy one-piece uniform they made them wear. like he had any room to talk, being a wrestler… the way they sneaked out to the back of the boathouse, and among the oars and shells undressed in the narrow beam of sunlight, exploring each other’s bodies with the languid tenderness of first timers, his new friend licking his shaft and sucking like an expert, though the coquettish lil bro had said it was his first time. faster and faster, lips pressed against lips, the heat ruptured in his face, and the pressure of a geyser built up within his depths

with each burst of his load, teach’d worked his cum into the wax, fingering it in pearly whorls up his abs and down his quads, brushing against his cock for only a moment, adding another few droplets of self-plasticity to his hard, weathered features. tremors rapt his body, the sensation dimmed by his new plasticity, fanning out into the fuzz of prolonged, eternal bliss. bound up in the scaffolding, finding himself more and more unable to slump, the marinade of his own spunk became the new top layer of his skin, with the varnish sensitizing his nerves

last load ya had in ya, lil bro

shit’s gonna sink down into your boys next. don’t worry about it, though. things’re only gonna feel even better from here on out

it took him a long time to believe that, too

sometimes he caught his eyes in the mirror and saw the twinge of horror leaden in the faint blue shimmer. his plasticized skin. how his muscles had swollen without contraction. the colors that weren’t his school’s. the tie and button down that didn’t belong to him. he’d remembered that he was trash. he remembered… and wondered why he wanted to keep remembering. he was still state champ, no matter which version of his past he kept. he was still loved by his old team, loved by his new team, too. teach’d kept telling him that soon they’d meet in the flesh, or… in their case, the encasement

fuckin’ aye, lil bro. never looked better, i gotta say. i’d shake, your hand, but uh…

almost giggling like a schoolboy, he grabbed him by the back of his head and leaned in to kiss his cheeks

won’t smudge, lil bro. think you’re good and settled. knew you were a beaut, lil bro. primo material the second I first laid eyes on ya. hell, second I first laid eyes on that fine as fuck admissions essay. sucker for a good sob story, i gotta say

well, pleasure workin with ya, lil bro. don’t worry, I’ll be seein ya around. jack of all trades, your old pal teach. shine on, ya crazy diamond

before long, he was strapped to a handcart with rope, and wheeled down the halls. out of the corner of his eye he could see the rest of his classmates. the jrotc standing tall and saluting in their dress uniforms. the football team, legs spread, hands behind their back, pads adhered to their skin with the varnish. the rugby team, crew team, swim and dive teams. water polo. all trapped in kit, unis, speedos. some posed for team pictures. some stood in action poses. headlocks. sprints. dives for the ball. smiling. laughing. in some he could still see the paralytic terror behind their eyes, in others the calm serenity of defeat. faces of grim resignation, faces half-pleading, half dazed. he believed them. he believed them all. it was getting easier to believe a lot of things

and teach said here they were

when the cart came down, he saw his team. the other wrestlers, posed like him. some in singlets and headgear, full meet day wear. others lacing up their shoes, or singlet tops peeking out from slacks they’d never unbuckle. there was something different in their eyes. something he didn’t think he’d imagined. they were welcoming him. accepting of his place within their design. he remembered meeting them all in those memories he wasn’t sure were real. the memories where none of them had names, but all knew they belonged together. sweating together, striving together, achieving something great together

teach’d positioned him behind a bro who’d looked a lot like how he used to look before the change. tall, wiry guy. lean and strong. he was a good looking guy, even then. they were brothers now, so close to one another. his new bro at all times feeling his gaze, his closeness, but never able to look back and see. their companionship more a sensation then a relationship, the intensity of the nerves playing over their emotions. a shared heat, a shared moisture. their oils mingling during polishing sessions as a single rag moved from body to body. other bros were close to him, and he wanted to see them, too. he wanted to be closer to everyone here, to know them, see them, but never could

some nights he still remembered the life he used to live, and the tension in his face would come nearly to breaking, but… he only needed to dissolve back into the soft hum of the words. accept that he was never going back, and wouldn’t even if he could. maybe there was still a wall between him and other people, always would be, but he had something more now. even if he couldn’t reach out and touch his new bros, they shared a deeper fraternity, a sense of eternal togetherness. all sculpted, all material. maybe it was humiliating, being nothing but an interchangeable object, having his name and past stripped away, assigned an exhibit number in the gallery… but people would come and look at him. see him, admire him. just like the rest of his bros

when teach took out his camera and laughed, saying smile, it was time for the yearbook photo, he sensed there would be no difference in substance between that photo and their lived reality. a memory prolonged, unending, which they would share together. metabolic heat as real as photochemistry and captured light. the bubbling of eternal stillness

for the first time in his life, he felt he truly belonged

#wrestling singlets are better than skin #workin class stud #can't move or speak #life he chose #haze of memory #hold me sir #/ #preppy #jock #mannequin #tf

[hikapoi]

Some miscellaneous doodles.

The first two are abominations from a solo trip to the mall. I passed by Spencer’s and showed Lammy a pic of sweater that read something like “Big Dick in Town” and he laughed, saying the fact that it’s funny is bc no one would wear that. I didn’t see anything funny about it until I drew it on Daki and now yeah, that is pretty funny. My poor man..

The second one was bc I was trying to explain I could finally give the Jigglypuff I bought a Build-a-Bear online a heart and I got to do the ritual. Most ppl don’t know this ritual so here it is in comic form for you.

Lastly... I was just a little drunk on love (no alcohol, I don’t drink!)

On another note, Mastodon has encouraged me to provide alt text for the visually impaired and I’m wondering if I should follow suit on Tumblr. I wish I could get a good idea if that is even beneficial to anyone who visits me lmao I never really had a huge following and am rather obscure in presences, but if I have even one person who needs it I will provide it. I just wonder if there is even ONE for me to have to write out something really low effort that may or may not help. I have been reading tips/guides to write helpful ones but it is a lot of work especially when a lot of things I’m uploading are nonsensical to even people who can see it lmaoooo

#grand summoners #art #doodle #hika #daily #alt text

[radioves]

i saw a bunch of other people doing trafficsonas and since its come to my attention that cringe culture can burn ive decided to make my own lol

still on the fence about the skull and bone charm thing. idk someone give me feedback and i might change it out or remove it

this is ermine. his name isnt permanent i might change it considering its literally just polilla’s dads name. also if it isnt obvious hes based off polilla bc my current skin doesnt have much to work off of

lives in a cave in the middle of the tundra because its ‘easier to defend’, which is codeword for ‘who the hell would put effort into building a house when you got a house built by mother nature herself right here’

literal menace. finds joy in blowing up peoples houses despite the current life hes on. also disappeared for the entire first session just to breed an entire army of dogs for the sole reason of He Could

depending on his life, his pupil color and sword gem changes color, while the badges on his sash crack and stop glowing. theres also moths on the back of his shawl that change color, and starting from green life as he loses lives he also loses moths, until hes only left with a big red moth on his last life [queue laugh track]

the beads are random colors but the ones on his dogs do correlate to the life theyre on- btw if your wondering why the heart colors are weird its bc i just color picked from his outfit and just turn the saturation and brightness up, hence why green is yellow and yellow is orange

i am planning* [*see : rotating it in my mind] on making a traffic hc post about how the players make their clothes, but the basics is they spawn in with their clothes from other servers, but as their clothes get torn up from classic scuffles such as Dying, they have to make new clothes with what they have to work with, for example: wool, leather, string, cotton / hemp / other plant-based materials, furs, etc.

as for ermine, he spawns in with his base clothes [sweater, pants, and boots] and has to make the rest of his clothes with various leathers and fur. and for the select few of you asking where he got the polar bear parts: um uh uhm,,, i personally believe that the map he plays in is alot bigger and encompasses more biomes, including cold biomes such as his tundra and also frozen oceans.

its kinda like a uhc game in a way if you think about it, with a bigger but still enclosed map, and the border slowly closes in each session until all the players are forced into the middle and ok i need to just make a proper post for this stuff Moving on

the dog breeding deal kinda backfires on him when he dies to a skeleton while farming bones [he just like me fr [bc he is]]

after that he kinda begins to realize ‘damn. im gonna die’ and starts wearing the mask more, kinda as a threat, bc we all know characters with masks are more mysterious and therefor dangerous. except for him bc he runs at the sight of any conflict as he is absolute ASS at fighting. hence the blowing everything up part

when he dies again his were-aspect starts to show itself in places like him growing wolf and dragon parts and scales and fur showing up on his face and limbs. its kinda annoying but he supposes its useful considering it also comes with heightened senses + partial night vision

and now red life. This is when it all goes downhill for everyone including him

like all stereotypical weres, he loses the majority of his sense of humanity and just starts going literally, as the cool kids say, off the shits- he doesnt hesitate to attack everyone and anyone, even if it risks him getting killed in the process. there is no stops for this man, someone is going to die and it doesnt matter who

yes he still has his dogs, at least the ones that remain, though at this point hes less a commander and more one of them, attacking in one big pack of fluffy piranhas

dubbed ‘the bloodhound’, he attacks mainly under the cover of dark, be it at night or in dark places like caves. just like his namesake, once he gets a scent on his next victim, he will track them down to the ends of time until they finally turn and fight back

the name ‘bloodhound’ comes from the concept of werewolves shifting during the full moon, the inherent violence of red lifes, the fact that hes literally a dog, bloodmoons, his red circle markings, etc. etc. tl;dr its cool

#if anythings spelt wrong sorry i dont care lol #trafficsona #trafficblr #digital art #artists on tumblr #illustration #:0

[iguessweallcrazyithinktho]

Chris Evans masterlist

Chris Evans HC

Going on a road trip with Chris and kiddos (headcannon)

Being married to Chris Evans would include(headcannon)

Chris Evans Imagines

imagine chris seeing you with a kid

imagine chris talking about the day you got married

imagine:chris broke up with you before you could tell him your pregnant

imagine:you and chris divorced and have two kids together/maybe it not to late to get back together

imagine chris talking about your twins

imagine chris seeing you for the first time

Imagine Chris seeing you with a kid after 2 years of being broken up (fluff)

Imagine Chris seeing you in a beautiful dress at an award show

Imagine your son thinking your so beautiful and he doesn’t want Chris to see you

Imagine Chris finding out his 3 year old has a boyfriend

Imagine your kids finding out that Chris is captain America

Imagine Chris being your neighbor and you wondering why didn’t put on pants.

Imagine Chris feeling like he failed as a father

Imagine Chris watching you play with his niece and nephew and he can’t help wonder how amazing you would be as a mom

Imagine Chris and your son telling the paparazzi no pictures

Imagine your son regret eating Wasabi

Imagine telling Chris that you want to make him a daddy on father’s day ~ smut

Chris Evans prompts

mamas boy 9&58

make me 48

i can’t keep kissing stranger and pretending their you 1,14&33

i forgive you 11

please marry me 32

hey just breath 29&10

92 and 84( smut)

76 and 91 ( angst, smut, fluff)

4 and 99(sad)

15 and 85(slightly angst, fluff)

quarantine proposal(fluff)

big fight (angst, fluff), breath with me (fluff) 

shoulder pain(fluff)

thirsty tweet reveal (fluff)

he’s okay (angst, fluff, daddy Chris), period(fluff)

54&56(smut) 

50,54,59(smut)

68&72(smut) 

68,69,72(smut) 

31,50,72(smut)

16,40(fluff)

Chris Evans:

exes to lover

8 letter

haters

accident happen how you think we …

heart eyes

daddy little fan

build a bear v teddy bear

baby love

falling like the stars

all way by your side

i will always protect you

rain can’t ruin the fun

give me nickname

your not a real fan

don’t touch her

im sorry

will you be there

i love you just the way you are

little valentine

best valentine day ever

admire your beauty

kick ass boyfriend

you and chris in quarantine

focus on my breathing

panic attack

sweater wearing dorks

i’m not good enough for you

moving to boston

beautiful in his eyes

have each other

strong mama

jealous chris

wear a longer skirt next time

i’m bored

that hurt my feelings

animal crossing

A place to sit ( smut)

Hot model (fluff, slightly smut)

Beautiful in his eyes ( fluff)

What!(angst, fluff)

Love me (smut)

Please forgive me(angst, fluff)

Bikini fun(smut, slight fluff)

Brazilian girl(smut)

Window (smut)

Hands(smut)

Dad’s friend (smut)

Chris Evans Fluff:

Not worth it || angst

You are the reason || fluff

Plane cancellation || fluff

Skype call || fluff

Back off, he’s mine || fluff, light Angst

Everything okay || fluff, light Angst

Social anxiety || fluff

Workout or dance party || fluff

Chris Evans Smut:

Fuck it || smut

Quick quiet sex || smut

Stuck with u || smut

Tapes || smut

His fingers are accurate || smut

Wild wet dream || smut

CEO barber || smut

Language || smut

Such a good mouth || smut

One bed || smut

Not so innocent maid || smut

Bathtub || smut

Daddy Chris:

Princess Chris ( fluff, daddy Chris)

Dance with me ( fluff, daddy Chris)

cuddle and kisses ( fluff, daddy Chris)

Late night protection (fluff, daddy Chris)

No kissing mama ( fluff, daddy Chris)

Helping daddy (fluff, daddy Chris)

Junk food convinced (fluff, daddy Chris)

3 month old talker( fluff, daddy Chris)

Twins ( fluff, daddy Chris)

Workout distraction (fluff, daddy Chris)

Reading a book (fluff, daddy Andy)

She’s growing up too fast (fluff, daddy Chris)

Little sister love (fluff, daddy Chris)

Shuts that out (fluff, daddy Andy)

Finally princesses (fluff, daddy Chris)

Busted (fluff, daddy Chris)

Bubbles (fluff, daddy Chris)

Not little anymore (fluff, daddy Chris)

New best friend (fluff, daddy Chris)

Skin to skin (fluff, daddy Chris)

Hungry baby, no (fluff, daddy Chris)

Peas (fluff, daddy Chris)

What are you doing Papa(fluff,daddy Chris)

Meeting little brother(fluff, daddy Chris)

Quarantine with kiddos(fluff, daddy Chris)

Mother’s day || dad! Chris

Memories || dad! Chris

Winnie the Pooh ||dad! Chris

Puppies || dad! Chris

Shy || dad! Chris

Bring us together || dad! Chris

Curly hair || dad! Chris

Quarantine baby || dad! Chris

Strawberries || dad! Chris

Bake a cake || dad! Chris

Sugar party || dad! Chris

Cuddles || dad! Chris

Morning with the Evans || dad! Chris

Disneyland || dad! Chris

FaceTime || dad! Chris

Pool day || dad! Chris

Big hands || dad! Chris

Not food || dad! Chris

Chris Evans oneshots:

Target - you lied and told Chris that you and your daughter weren’t going to target. He catches you both ~ Fluff

Double trouble maker - your twins break something and hide behind you, even though Chris isn’t mad ~ Fluff

Birthday special - Summary: it’s Chris’s birthday and since you both are still in quarantine, you want to give him a little show at home ~ smut

legal | Request : you wrote some dad figure!tom x teen actress!reader, can i get one with Chris Evans? maybe reader has been emancipated for awhile now n despite the fact that she’s been raising herself for a long time now, she still needs that parently guidance and maybe chris gives her that??? i hope that’s ok!! -🌙 ~ Fluff

Twins - I have a request, I was wondering if u can do a request, where the reader is African American and he and Chris are expecting towns, but they revel the news to Chris’s parents and your parents and also both of y’all grandparents?? ~ Fluff

Work this out - Can I request chris or henry tried to work through there divorce but end up with cute moments working it out ~ fluff

Princess - your Andy princess ~ smut

Surprise - I had another idea, what if Chris was being interviewed and you and your guys daughter who’s 4, came and surprised him, but once your daughter saw Chris she runs up to him and yells daddy!! - Fluff

Fort - Summary: it’s a rainy day and you, Chris, and your son build a fort ~ Fluff

Slobbery kisses - Chris wakes up to sloppy kisses by his baby ~ Fluff

Can’t sleep without you - Hi! can I request something where Chris and the reader had an argument and Chris goes to sleep in the couch, but in the middle of the night, the reader go to sleep with him there? Thanks! ~ slightly Angst, Fluff

Make up - Just after that quick one about fighting and sleeping separately could you do a quick imagine on the make up sex pls :)) ty ~ smut, Fluff

Tough guy -Can I ask for an imagine about the reader fighting with her husband Chris, about his family and the fight ending in rough sex? ❤ ~ kinda dark, smut

Giraffe slippers - Chris can’t get over your son’s giraffe slippers ~ Fluff

Switzerland - Summary: you, Chris and your son go on vacation to beautiful Switzerland ~ Fluff

Velvet - I found these prompts. They’re perfect ~ Fluff, implied smut

I’m scared, but I love you - Can u make where on how will cevans admit to a girl that he likes (or falling for) her and the girl is scared bc of the risk of dating him (privacy, fame, hate) and chris tells her he’s scared too but he’s willing to take a risk bc he can’t afford to see u w/ anyone else ~ Fluff

Interviewer - Summary: your a black interviewer and Chris couldn’t keep his eyes off of you. - smut, Fluff

Red dress - Request: After the oscars or whatever awards with Chris Evans, reader wearing a really sexy dress and even sexier lingerie ~ Fluff, implied smut

Softy -Request: Imagine Chris when he has a baby 🥺 I can honestly imagine how in love he’s gonna be in the delivery room getting handed his child. That man seriously makes my heart melt ~ Fluff

Who are you? - Request: can i request an image where chris comes back from filming and has a beautiful beard, but his baby daughter didn’t recognize him ~ Fluff

Empty theater - Request: you and chris go to the theaters and find out you two are the only one in the showing. You’re pretty invested into the movie and Chris is just horny 3000. He’s tryna fool around and you disregard him until he grabs your hand and puts it on his crotch and says in that insanely attractive Boston accent, “feel how hah’d you got me??” shweaty🤤 ~ smut

What moving in with Chris is like ~ Fluff

Long hair lover - Request: Can you write an imagine where Chris came back from filming red sea diving resort and his baby daughter is crazy in love with his long hair? ~ Fluff

Mean girl - Request: Hi, can you write one where the reader runs into a mean girl from school at supermarket and the girl start to brag for just saw Chris Evans. She doesn’t know that the reader is his wife, so the the mean girl has a little surprise when Chris find his wife at the line or something. ~ Fluff, slightly angst

Episode - Request: Hey are you taking request? I’m dark skinned chocolate and I’d love for Chris to comfort reader during a depressive episode. She’s the life of the party and she’s a new actress, not popular but she met Chris through mutual friends and he’s realized she’s been isolating herself lately, so he stops by her apt. to check in on her. She feels like she’s losing her mind. You can add smut. 😉 reader usually feels better after an episode buts its a serious battle and having support helps tremendously.😊 ~ Fluff, smut

Romantic day - Request: So Chris was asked in an interview if he ever had anyone do anything romantic for him and he had a hard time remembering. Can you write a fic where his girlfriend does something romantic for him? Like on a tooth rotting level of fluff. ~ fluff

Piglet - your daughter dress up as piglet from Winnie the Pooh ~ fluff

Bathroom and mirror - Request: Hey, I was wondering if I could request being at a party with Chris and he goes to the bathroom and you follow only for him to lift you on to the sink and eat your 🐱 then bend you over and fuck you hard watching you in the mirror ~ smut

Pink ribbon - Request: Okay but like I had this imagine in my head, like Chris is recording a video of his babygirl which is two months and he’s recording a video to help people with wants happening in the world to make then smile and then you hear a “grrr” and he’s like yes my daughter did learn how to growl before speaking thanks to dodger ! And he’s like so in love with the cutest bean to ever live ! And wife!reader be like watching this as she growls,dodger being proud! -🥺💕 ~ Fluff

Migraine - Request: Take as much time as you need 😜. I was about reader working at home on quarantine and she has this migraine so Chris takes care of her?? Could be a drabble, hc, blurb, whatever you wanna make of it ~ Fluff

Childhood bedroom - Request: Reader and Chris having sex in Chris’s childhood room when they visit his parents for a holiday (whichever you want) and Scott walking in on them ~ smut

Boomerang - Request: Can I request Chris Evans x Reader age gap where its her 10 high school reunion and back in high school she was over weight and was teased for it. Now she isnt and is engaged to Chris, but at the reunion she gets told by like an ex boyfriend an ex friend that Chris will leave her if she gets her weight back. Chris over hears this and is upset by it. Also could they make a remark like she is gaining weight again but she is pregnant like three months with a tiny bump (Maybe smut) Thank you ~ Angst, smut

Period - Request: can you do one abt chris when his girl is on her period ~ Fluff

4am car ride - Summary: at 4 in the morning Chris wakes you up to go on a car ride ~ Fluff

No Oscars - Request: Concept: reader consoling chris after he comes back from the oscars without any wins ~ Angst, fluff

Morning with the Evans - Summary: morning with 6 kiddos, 4 going to school. ~ Fluff

Wanna help? - Request: Hi there! What about Chris is in his bed reading a book as his wife were doing her routine of moisturizing her body and he start staring at her and she asks if he want to do the job for her. ~ smut

Mommy isn’t hot she’s warm

Message therapist - Request: I’m a massage therapist. I would love to see a wondering with CE and a therapist. She gets a one in a lifetime opportunity to massage the one and only, he sees her small stature and does not think she’ll be able to help him, but he is pleasantly surprised. He takes one look at her, and get simplicity and naturalness intrigues and consumes him. He’s on a mission to make her his, she’s wary. She’s wary because of her past and of what his intentions are. And doesn’t trust him right away. @creae7881 ~ Fluff

America’s ass - Summary: you make Chris celebrate that ass on its birthday `~ Fluff

Mechanic - Request: Hi! Wondering if you could make a story where Chris falls for a girl that’s a mechanic. I’ve been looking to pictures of the car Downey gifted him. She can be the one who built it. Thanks ~ @arabescapr ~ Fluff

Angry at you - Summary: Chris has to do some work and his daughter wants to play, but he can’t. She doesn’t like that. ~ Fluff

Virgin till married - Request: Hey! I really love your five and am a huge fan of your writing! Is there a way you could write a Chris fanfic in which the reader is a virgin and wants to save herself for marriage and it’s their honeymoon and she is gonna have sex for the first time with husband Chris.😙❤ It can be fluff and smut. Thank you! ~ smut

Secretly - Request: I have a request for Chris. Where the reader is a beautiful black plus-size woman and she and Chris are secretly dating, and one day they are spotted out and Chris panics and he has an interview and the interviewer asked him “who’s this girl u were spotted with” and Chris says I don’t know he personally she’s just a fan, and the reader watches the interview and gets heartbroken so she blocks him and changing a the locks to her house, and Chris finds out that she watched the interview. For the plus size request for Chris. I have to send another ask for same request because I didn’t have enough room to finish, but the reader starts avoiding and ignoring Chris, and Chris tries to get the reader to talk to him by showing up at her work, or bringing her flowers or her favorite food but she declines until one day she gets home and he’s on her doorstep and she starts walking by him ignoring him and he asks her just to talk to him please. Can there be a happy ending. ~ @briannab1234 ~ Angst, Fluff

After the show - Request: I’m sort of obsessed with the idea an anon sent in about the reader being a singer and her performing on stage and then him getting her home! I don’t know if you’re doing that already but if not can I request it for Chris Evans pleaseee ~ smut

Midnight return ~ Fluff, dad! Chris

You+me=perfect - Request: Hi! Just discovered your blog a few weeks ago and fell in love with your writing. I know requests are closed, but when you have time, could you do one where Chris and Reader (age gap) like each other and they know and everybody knows but when Reader makes a move he rejects her because since he wants a family he thinks reader is not ready for that. Please happy ending, 2020 is already too stressful :)~ Angst, Fluff

Your producing ice? - Request:Writing idea? Yk that game that Chris played with Jimmy Fallon where they poured the ice water down each other’s pants. Yeah yeah yeah. Just imagine going to give Chris a bj in the dressing room or something and there’s ice In his pants -🥺 but confused ~ smut, Fluff

Wine and sunset - Summary: you and Chris have been together for 3 years and now you got married to him. You both are on your honeymoon. He can’t help but keep his hands off of you. ~ smut, Fluff

No kissing ~ fluff,dad! Chris

At last I see the light - Request: Hi, can you please write Chris Evans x reader when he’s on the Graham Show and the other guest is a singer he have a crush on, she perform a song she recorded for the ‘We Love Disney’s album and he’s just in admiration please?  ~ Fluff

Another princess?! - Summary: your pregnant and you and Chris finally figure out the gender of your baby. ~ Fluff

#chris evans #chris evans x reader #submission #Chris Evans imagines #Chris Evans x female reader #chris evans x plus size reader #chris Evans smut #dad!chris evans #Chris Evans x ofc

[ghostofbambifanfiction]

Part 1 of ?????

Started writing this fic a while ago and then lost faith in it. Should I continue? Feel bad for not posting much lately so I thought I'd share this. Read on and weigh in.

COME OUT TONIGHT

NO

You don't have to fucking shout?

Said the pot to the kettle?

Oh you grandmother The caps were an accidental by-product of voice-to-text Blame Siri if you're going to blame anyone

You have a Samsung Galaxy S20.

HAD. It got smashed. Worst luck. Listen, come out with me tonight.

Urghhhhhhhhhhhhhh I'm tired!

https://www.boots.com/wellness/vitaminsandsupplements/vitamins-supplements-shop-by-ingredient/echinacea

Hah (indifferent)

Just come out with me! Isaac has to go see some godawful student performance of the Antigone in wherever the fuck Chichester is and it's Sirius's flatmate's birthday party so I have to go and I don't know any of his weird mates

You don't HAVE to go.

Have to/want to Semantics

I'm not in a birthday party mood. I'm having a stressful week. My arse has been tense since Tuesday.

I will wade into the deep and massage your arse if I have to, just come It's a swank pad in Belgravia! I bet they'll have all sorts of expensive nibbles!

I read that as expensive nipples.

Those too!

Partying it up with the children of wealthy Tories. Sounds super fun.

Just come out with me, for fuck I'll pick you up at 7 and we can steal their silverware if it's boring as the grave

URGH I'll go but I'm NOT dressing up!

You don't have to dress up!

FINE!

*

take the drawings down please i'm begging you i'm actually begging you

Nah mate

siriusssssssss pleeeeeease

Nah

PLEASE

Nah

PLEASE ffs it's MY birthday!!!! there are going to be PEOPLE there! standing around! AT EYE LEVEL

I don't see what the problem is.

EVERYONE will see what the problem is! they literally will not be able to IGNORE what the problem is!

Sounds like a recipe for lively discussion to me tbh

that is NOT what i want people talking about at my birthday!

If I take them down, I'll have to take all the nails out and that'll leave nail marks all over the walls. It would be unsightly.

MORE UNSIGHTLY THAN YOUR DICK, SIRIUS?

My dick is bewitching.

DIE

*

She walks in expecting to find herself the infiltrator of a Made in Chelsea/Royal Ascot/Henley Regatta netherworld, filled with a gaggle of giggling, SW-postcode socialites wielding suspiciously powder-edged Harrods Amex cards in the place of horses and boats, but that's not what actually greets her on the other side of the lacquered front door.

What greets her is really quite ordinary.

Aside from the naked drawings of Kingsley's mate, which aren't.

Otherwise, the whole affair is pretty relaxed. People her age are clustered in their small groups, swigging beers. There's a table of oven-heated party foods, salty snacks and rapidly depleting ramekins of guac. She spies more band shirts than there are dress shirts. There's a round of Fortnite in full swing on the TV.

It's all just...startlingly normal. A normal birthday party.

And that's sort of embarrassing, really.

Where are all the visible Tory toffs, she wonders? Where is the braying laughter? The Eton alumni reunion? The glimpse of hunting-happy tweed and shotgun barrels as a coat cupboard door swings shut? Where's the indelible air of sneering superiority, of "we're richer and more privileged and better than you, so fuck the NHS and death to foxes!" that she'd been expecting? There's a fucking Henry Hoover in the corner of the hall, for Christ's sake. Lily came here to smile through her teeth at them all, to listen to the champagne problems privilege that bubbled from their lips and tell herself that she was the one who knew better, who thought better. Her plain white tee and skinny jeans and scuff-toed, high-top trainers were supposed to be a statement, a subtle setting-apart, but she's not even the most underdressed person in the room.

She pre-judged a house full of people. What's that about?

There's a lesson to be found in this. Perhaps.

*

James covered all of the dicks in Paw Patrol stickers that he bought from the newsagent on his way home from his mum's, but Sirius peeled them all off while he was taking a soothing lavender bath, so what's the bloody point in birthdays anyway?

It's early in the evening, and he's wedged—against his will—between the dining room bar and Shane Ruttle, who has just pointed at one of the many lamentable dicks and asked, "Is this one of yours?" which James kind of wants to thump him for. It's bad enough that he looks like a madman who stuffed his house with naked drawings of his brother, now people are actually assuming that he drew the damn things, even though most of the compositions are appallingly far beneath his skill level. He's a professional illustrator, for the love of god, and Shane is really standing before him like the posturing prick he is, asking him if he's the one who drew Sirius with one arm disproportionately longer than the other.

He knows that he should cheer up.

It is his birthday. There is cake.

Good cake, too, not the kind that gets buried in too-thick fondant that he has to pick off before he can eat what's underneath.

The problem is, there's also a party, and his friends are his friends, Peter and Sirius included, and Peter and Sirius can both get drunk much faster than James can. When Peter and Sirius get drunk, serious injuries tend to follow, Remus tends to fuck off in a flash and James tends to be the one who calls for an ambulance or mothers them back to health—physical, mental or otherwise. He has just turned twenty-six, and these repeated, drunkenly dramatic medical emergency scenes are starting to wear a little thin.

Can't a man get comfortably drunk and have a laugh at his own birthday party?

No, he can't, because Peter's already halfway to trashed, wobbling unsteadily towards the French doors that lead to the terrace, wearing that look on his face that says I'm definitely going to vomit or maybe even shit myself like I did on that one night we all spent in Munich with the Belgian handball team and the creepy tour guide who couldn't keep his sleazy hands to himself. For the sake of sparing the lawn such a punishment, James hastily removes himself from Shane, grabs Peter by the collar, shoves him in the direction of the downstairs loo and retreats to the safety of the living room, where there are, at least, no naked drawings of Sirius gracing the walls.

Most of the people in here are transfixed by Saffy Stephens, who is down to the last three in her Fortnite game and cursing like a sailor, but there are a small pile of birthday cards on the end table where James and Sirius normally keep their keys. He perches on the sofa arm, sets his half-drunk beer bottle on the carpet, pushes his dark, disheveled hair away from his forehead and begins leafing through them. It's a necessity when one lives with Sirius, who thinks nothing of swiping gift cards when the mood strikes him and he's had enough to drink.

They're mostly from his female friends, and all pretty standard, until he reaches the middle of the pile and finds a card bearing a picture of a moustached tabby and the caption: Have a Purr-fect Birthday!

The inscription inside is written in a lovely, swirling hand.

To Jasper/Jack/Jason/maybe Ja Rule?/J-something idk

(see above: everything I've learned about you from the friend* I came here with, verbatim)

(*who can't remember your name)

Happy Birthday! Thank you for (not) specifically inviting me, a stranger, to your party to celebrate this momentous event in your life. Please enjoy this festive card/social nicety/convention from me to you. My friend brought rum which you may prefer.

I'll be around. Not that you'll know.

LE

James lowers the card and twists on the sofa arm at once, eyes darting around the room in search of its author, as if they might be laying in wait to watch him read it and see how he reacts. Nobody appears to have ducked behind the couch, however, so the situation merits further scrutiny.

Obviously, he needs to meet this person.

A mystery! At his birthday party!

He perks right up after that.

*

She's coming out of the downstairs loo when a short, blonde man in a garish Hawaiian shirt barrels past her and pukes all over the chequerboard tiled floor, narrowly missing her jeans.

"Oh no," he moans into his wet hands. "Oh no—"

"There there, mate," says Lily consolingly, never one to judge somebody for getting drunk early at a party. She pats him on the back before squeezing past him and rejoining Kingsley, who is standing in one of this meandering Georgian house's many hallways, chatting to a bloke in a houndstooth sweater vest and holding two glasses of something very, very sparkly that she must try at once.

"It's like...it's like everything and nothing at the same time," Houndstooth Bloke is saying when Lily draws close, gesturing to a huge canvas painting of a rain-soaked fairground at night.

"Is it?" Kingsley asks.

"Mmm. Very." Houndstooth shakes his shoulders like he's slipping out of a robe. "Meant to be esoteric, I suppose."

That sounds suspiciously like pretentious bullshit to Lily, who doesn't find the concept of a merry looking fairground all that difficult to absorb. Kingsley knows more about the art world than she does, but he must agree with her assessment because he grunts and shoves her glass into her hand when she stops beside him, and more roughly than she deserves, as if she's the one who landed him in this mess of a conversation to begin with.

Trust him to find himself stuck with the only dick (not etched by a 4B Steadtler graphite pencil) in the building, and trust her to be stuck with the person who got himself stuck with King.

"What are we talking about?" she asks brightly, just to fuck with him.

"Drink your champagne, there's a good little hen," King mutters, his teeth clenched together, hallway lights bouncing off the smoothly waxed dome of his bald head.

"We've been discussing this piece." Houndstooth nods to the painting, but his limpid eyes narrow on Lily's face. "Christ, you're very redheaded, aren't you?"

It's decided. She'll wait 'til Houndstooth is drunk and trip him up with Henry Hoover's hose.

"Ergo soulless, yes," she agrees.

"And you...enjoy that?" he asks, as if being redheaded is her profession.

"Very much, thanks."

"Hmmp. Well. I came here with Saffron," he announces, pronouncing it Sef-ron. As if Lily is supposed to know who that is. "Platonically, of course. Actually, we're some sort of cousins, I think. What do you think the artist is trying to convey?"

He's very pointedly asking her, so Lily blinks at the painting, her eyes on the outstretched arm of a child on the carousel.

"I like the pretty colours," she decides aloud.

"Right," says Houndstooth, "but that's not—"

"And the lights, too. The lights are really pretty."

"But—"

"I love funfairs, actually," she brightly continues, finding a strange satisfaction in playing dumb in front of Houndstooth and his overbleached fade. Although she does really like the colours. "Haven't been to one in years!"

"Yes, good, whatever, but what is the artist trying to convey?"

"What artist?" comes a voice from behind them.

Lily glances over her shoulder and finds herself looking up at the man whose penis she's spent the past thirty minutes avoiding eye contact with, though he is taller, better proportioned and infinitely more beautiful than any of those crudely drawn depictions could possibly convey. He is also beplumed and bejewelled like a pirate, wearing a sumptuous velvet jacket over a loose white shirt, numerous rings on his fingers and an assortment of silver chains around his slender neck, while his grey eyes and elegantly high-set cheekbones are framed by a tumble of black hair that genuinely looks like silk.

The man is so beautiful, in fact, that Lily immediately wonders why he's been taking sketches home from the life drawing class that he and Kingsley pose for—hence their acquaintance and Lily's presence at this party—when nothing she's seen tonight has done him any justice.

Most happily, his penis is tucked safely out of sight.

"Alright, Sirius?" says King.

"Alright, Marvel?" Sirius claps a hand to the taller man's massive shoulder. Kingley's muscles bulge in a way that cannot be hidden by modern habiliments. "What are we talking about?"

"Not much." Houndstooth looks put out by the arrival of yet another person. "We were just mesmerised by this piece."

Lily refrains from gesturing to the painting with both hands and a "ta-dah!" choosing instead to sip her champagne.

It's very good champagne. Mmm. Yes.

"Oh, yeah, it's really something," Sirius agrees. He brushes past Kingsley and runs a finger over the illegible squiggle of a signature on the canvas. His nails are beautifully manicured. "Local guy, young up-and-comer. I assume you've heard of Algernon?" he asks Houndstooth, fixing him with a steely-eyed stare.

"Er, yes." Houndstooth's gaze slides from Sirius to the painting. "I know him."

Sirius's eyebrows lift. "Know him personally?"

"Well—"

"That's so weird, I heard he never speaks to people."

Houndstooth chews on the inside of his cheek, weighing up the challenge. "How…funny."

"Funny?"

"Oh, nothing. It's just, I know I've spoken to him before, and since you've bought his painting I assumed that you'd have—"

"That is funny, actually," Sirius interrupts, "because the artist is my brother, and Algernon is the name of his cat."

Kingsley has been tugging on his earring and almost rips it out of his ear as his body convulses, champagne spraying from his nostrils, while an alarming red flush sweeps across Houndstooth's face and he begins to sputter on his own self-importance. Sirius has clearly decided that he's done with all of that noise, however, because he turns back to Lily instead, looking her up and down with great and sudden interest.

"Who's this then?" he asks Kingsley, cocking his head to one side. "James's present?"

The champagne glass swings down and Lily fixes him with a deadpan stare. "Excuse me?"

Sirius slants a grin at Kingsley, a quick flash of teeth. "This one's queenly, isn't she?"

Kingsley wipes his nose with the back of his hand and laughs again. "Hardly."

"This is Primark, mate," Lily retorts, tugging on her t-shirt.

"Queenliness is a state of mind," says Sirius, "not a state of wardrobe."

"You had me marked down as a prostitute not ten seconds ago."

"Oh, that. I was only joking," he sighs, and grips her arm at the elbow, his long fingers cool against her skin. "But still, you're far too attractive to stand here talking to this clown. Come with me and I'll find you someone better."

*

James's friends are useless.

And drunk. Useless and drunk—or sort of drunk, in Saffy's case. Remus is certainly already pissed, but Remus is on meds so often that he drinks but once in a blue moon. One cocktail is usually enough to set him off, and he's been hard at the gin since he turned up with Peter at six.

"I don't know anyone with those initials," Saffy declares, once she has read, examined and even sniffed the birthday card for clues. "Except for Lisa Edelstein."

"Who's Lisa Edelstein?"

"Cuddy from House," says Remus, lowering the negroni from which he has been drinking deeply.

James pulls a face. "What the fuck is a Cuddy?"

"Oh, actually, it could mean le?" Remus suggests.

"Yes!" Saffy points at him like he might be onto something. "Like the French word for the?"

"Exactly, like—"

"It doesn't mean that!" James interrupts, unwilling to allow such profanity in his home. "That doesn't make sense, why would somebody sign their name as the?"

"Now you're asking me to explain how French people think?" says Saffy derisively, adjusting her bra strap beneath that burnt orange waistcoat she loves, the one that makes her look like she's directing a pornographic movie in the 70s when she pairs it with her tortoiseshell-framed aviators. It clashes wildly with her electric blue buzz-cut. "Am nooooo drunk enough for that."

"They could be one of those one word moniker pop stars, I suppose," Remus pipes up, smiling slyly. "You know, like Madonna?"

They think James doesn't realise that they're taking the piss out of him, but neither of them are sober enough to attempt their gambit with any kind of subtlety or grace.

"You know that's actually her real Christian name?" says Saffy.

Remus turns towards her with interest. "What, Madonna?"

"Yeah!"

"Really?"

"Yeah!" Saffy repeats. "I thought it couldn't possibly be her real name because, I mean, Madonna, yeah? But then I looked it up and apparently that's the name her mummy gave her, just goes to show—"

"I'm sorry," James interrupts, "but is Madonna relevant to this conversation?"

"Yes, always," says Saffy.

"She's an international pop megastar," Remus seconds.

James stares at his friend incredulously. "Drinking really chips away at your wit, y'know?"

"Does it?" Remus grins lazily and jiggles his cocktail in the air. "Oh, well, I'm negronly joking."

Saffy does a spit-take without the spit and clings helplessly to Remus's shoulder as she laughs, knees buckling, bangles tinkling, but James fights his own urge to start snickering.

"It's not that funny," he lies, and Remus eyes him with an alarmingly teacher-like shrewdness, despite the tellingly intoxicated flush that has crept into his thin, freckled face.

James's love of puns is tragically well known.

"You didn't get it." Remus points at his drink. His speech is starting to slur. "This is a negroni, what I said was—"

"Yeah, I got that part, I just—"

"Jesus fuck, look at her!" Saffy suddenly hisses, staggering sideways into Remus and sending him into the wall in a flurry of giggles—Remus giggling?—her voice hushed and urgent. "Who the hell is that?!"

James does look, following the direction of Saffy's gaze. Sirius has just entered the living room, casually clutching the elbow of a……

……goddess.

An actual. Like. Goddess.

A goddess. In James's house. In his living room. In the place where he eats his chocolate boulder cereal and rewatches Scrubs (even season 9, which is hilarious, and very unfairly disparaged by Joe Public) on Saturday mornings.

She's a goddess. A real one, and cleverly disguised as a mortal, sure, with her slouchy white t-shirt and her big hoop earrings and her light blue jeans that are torn at the knees, wearing her shoulder-length red hair half up, half down and slightly messy, but that doesn't hide what she is.

"Oh my god," he murmurs. His heart is pounding all of a sudden, which is so...utterly bloody stupid, but Saffy's right, bloody look at her, Jesus fuck.

"Surely she can't be with Sirius?" Saffy murmurs back.

"No, she—" He watches Sirius lean down to mutter something in the redhead's ear. A ghost of a laugh flits across her beautiful face. "She's not his—he isn't—"

"D'you think—"

"No, I—"

"Good," says Saffy firmly. She lets go of Remus and rises, lengthening her spine. It is a battle stance of some sort, presumably. "Because I saw her first."

"No!" James cries, wounded, and the redhead shoots him a curious look with a pair of eyes that are startlingly emerald green, even from all the bloody way over here. He spins to face Saffy and lowers his voice, face burning. "It's my house!"

"What are you arguing here, ownership rights?"

"No but it—it's my birthday!" James retorts, jabbing at his own chest. "And, actually, and—"

"It's in the bloody post!"

"—you didn't get me a present!" he finishes in triumph, not that he knows what he's arguing for, because the likelihood is that his tongue will glue itself to the roof of his mouth if he even dares to look in her direction one more time. "Plus I set you up with Vanya Petrich, with whom, as I recall, you enjoyed four years—"

"Stop throwing that in my face!"

"—four blissful years—"

"Is it my fault that you've never fancied any girl I've set you up with?!"

"—promised me an Easter ham for setting you up with her and I never got it—"

"So now you'll trade a woman for a ham?" Saffy accuses, though her face is too lit up, her brown eyes too crinkled at the corners—she's having fun with this and she isn't going to fool him and she knows it. "That's so low, even—"

"Don't start with that," James scathingly cuts in. "You offered me Sean Connery's autograph for Bonnie Grogan's number—"

"Which you never gave me!"

"Because you forged the bloody signature!"

"And now she's bloody married!"

"Yeah, well, Isabella wouldn't give me a counterfeit present, would she?" he retorts, and Saffy lets her shoulders drop, smirking. "This is pointless, Saf, we can't—"

"She's just left with Sirius," Remus informs them, and burps.

#Jily #Part 1 #Of 3? #Honestly I just wanted to give you guys a treat

[valwentinefics]

Read your recent about the bubbly reader and Edward and was wondering if you could expand that and write about the reader finding out Edward is a vampire?

A/n: Thanks for the request, sorry it took a bit I was putting my focus on my Zemo fics since they’re more in demand! Still love Twilight though. I’m not sure how much I like this but I hope you do!

One day at a time - Edward Cullen x F!Reader

Warnings: Swearing

Edward wasn’t sure how to do this, it was eating him alive. He didn’t want to put Y/n in danger by letting her in on the family secret but it was nearing one year together and she was starting to plan a life together. She had to find out eventually, and Edward knew he couldn’t stall any longer if he wanted it to go smoothly. There was a nagging feeling in his mind, one he couldn’t shake, the fear of having to leave her like he had with Bella. Edward always wished he was a human, but now he wished he was even more than before. He wanted to have a life with Y/n without the thirst piercing his throat every time they were together, without the fear of losing control or running away. He wanted a life of warmth, flesh, and blood with her and a child born of those three things.

It was a cool afternoon when Edward decided to reveal himself to Y/n. The cloudy weather was going to dissipate soon, but the weather gave him enough time to get somewhere secluded before then. If Edward had the ability to sweat he would have been as he pulled up to Y/n’s house, knocking on the door, his nerves getting the best of him. Y/n opened the door with a smile, alone for the day. 

“Hey Edward, I’m almost ready, let me just grab a sweater.” She smiled, standing there in a t-shirt and shorts. If there was one thing he learned about Y/n it was that she severely underestimated the cold, assuming that just because the sun was coming out that it would be a warm summer's day, and every time without fail she was freezing, but she didn’t complain. 

Edward held up the thick shearling lined jean jacket he had bought for her. Him and Alice stood in the store mulling over the jackets for an hour. She had been insisting he got something more stylish than comfortable, but Edward, protective as always, insisted on something warm and durable. The jacket he held was the middle ground they had eventually decided on.

“Thank you so much! What would I do without you?” Y/n laughed, tossing on the jacket. He could tell by her thoughts and body language that she liked it, snuggling into it. 

“Freeze to death.” He replied with a smile that made Y/n swoon. With other’s he hated how they reacted to simple things like that, but with Y/n he loved how he could ‘dazzle her’ as Bella had called it.

The two headed to his car and he held open his door for her to get in before getting in the drivers side and gripping the wheel tightly, unsure if this was the right thing to do. Was it right to drag another human into his life? To possibly ruin her like he had with Bella? What if she was endangered because of him? Edward’s doubts swarmed his mind but he pushed them back, determined to share this part of him with Y/n. She deserved to know the monster she was dating.

-

The hike to the clearing was slow but on schedule. Every so often Y/n would pause to show Edward a frog or point out a bug. It was cute, her fascination with nature and care for every living thing. Edward wanted to live in this moment, where she was babbling about some plant while fearlessly hopping on every rock she saw. It was nice, happy, but he knew things would change once she found out about his true nature.

“Edward it’s beautiful!” She had run ahead, looking at the clearing which was all grass except for a single willow tree in the center. He had deemed it the perfect place, somewhere he could show her without fear of anyone seeing and aesthetically pleasing enough to make her happy before his reveal.

Y/n grabbed Edward’s cold and hand pulled him to the tree. She had grown accustomed to his cold skin after he lied about having poor circulation. That was another reason he was doing this, he was tired of the lies. She deserved nothing but the truth and a man who would give her it.

Edward watched adoringly as she flopped down, gesturing for him to sit down with her but he stayed standing, the sun was about to come out from its spot behind the clouds. “Y/n… I haven’t been entirely truthful with you.” He said as he began to unbutton his shirt.

“Do you have a secret tattoo?” She asked, leaning forward, ruining the suspense he had been building. “I’m chill with tattoos, I’m not sure if I’d ever get one, but they’re cool.”

“What?” Edward paused for a moment, wondering where that thought had come from. “No, no, nothing like that.” He finished unbuttoning his shirt and backed into the sunlight, seeing the astonishment on Y/n’s face as he began to shimmer under the sun’s rays.

“Holy shit…” Y/n approached him, running her hand across his marble-like skin. “That’s not glitter… what’s going on?”

“Y/n… I’m a vampire, and I can read your mind.” He said hesitantly, worried about her reaction. Normally she was so fearless, would she turn and run away from him? The thought killed him.

Y/n gently swatted his arm. “I don’t think it’s April 1st just yet Edward.”

“I can prove it! Right now you’re thinking about how cold you are, you’re wondering how I’m sparkling, and you want to get something from Tims on our way home.” He said, saying her thoughts out loud.

Y/n backed away just the slightest, Edward’s heart hurt at the thought of her fearing him. “How did you… Holy shit…” She sat down on the plush grass, Edward following suit and sitting across from her. Her mind was running wild, thoughts flickering thought it so fast Edward could hardly focus on a single one but what he did pick up was confusion and worry for him, not fear. 

“I’m considered a vegetarian amongst vampires, my whole family is. We’ve sworn off human blood and only hunt animals. I want you to know that I could never and would never harm you.” He said, holding Y/n’s hand in his own, giving her a sincere look. She kept the shocked look on her face as she stared at the ground, trying to comprehend this. She was being oddly quiet and Edward was beginning to be the scared one,

“I’m sorry I’m not saying much I don’t mean to be rude, but this is just so much, I thought vampires were just scary stories.” She said apologetically. “I know you would never hurt me, that was never a thought of mine.”

“I tell you I’m a vampire and you’re worried about being rude?” Edward let out a small chuckle, earning a pointed look from Y/n. “I know this is a lot and if you don’t want to be with me then consider me gone, I just couldn’t bear to keep hiding this from you.”

“It is a lot… but I’d never want you to leave me. It’ll take a lot of getting used to, but we can get through this together right? One day at a time.”

Edward nodded, a relieved smile slipping onto his pale face. “One day at a time…”

#edward cullen x reader #edward cullen #twilight x reader #twilight #twilight renaissance #twilight saga

[rax-writes]

Love Letters

Fandom:  Stranger Things Pairing:  Steve Harrington x Reader Warnings:  None Notes:  Once again, I thank @mxgyver​ for the inspiration. It appears that we’re both suckers for mutual pining. ♥

As you waved goodbye to your two best friends and left Scoops Ahoy, Robin watched Steve intently. She took note of the goofy, love-struck smile on his face, and the way he blatantly stared at your ass as you walked away, and she couldn’t help but laugh.

“What’s so funny?” Steve asked, redirecting his attention from you to his coworker – but only after you were completely out of his line of sight, not wanting to miss a second of his opportunity to admire you.

“You’ve got it bad, Harrington,” Robin observed, still chuckling.

“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” Steve said, shrugging with feigned nonchalance as he leaned against the counter.

“Sure you don’t,” Robin responded sarcastically, rolling her eyes. “You need to just ask her out already.”

“Why? Do you think she’d say yes?” Steve asked quickly – a bit too quickly – which caused Robin to start laughing again. “Hey, I’m serious! You’ve been friends with her for way longer than I have. If anybody would know whether or not she likes me, it’d be you. So, come on, spill the beans.”

Steve wasn’t wrong. You and Robin had been best friends since middle school, but you had only recently befriended Steve, after you’d both gotten wrapped up in the Demodogs / Upside Down situation last fall. And yes, she definitely knew how you felt about him – specifically the ginormous crush you’d developed on “King Steve.”

Before now, Robin never would have pictured the two of you together. You used to be more of the nerdy type, preferring to keep to yourself and your few friends, whereas Steve was one of the most popular kids in high school. But now that she knew Steve outside of school, and from seeing how the two of you interact with one another – she thought you were the perfect pair.

“Well, obviously, I would be a terrible best friend if I were to, as you say, ‘spill the beans,’” Robin began, using air quotes to reference his previous comment.

“So there are beans to spill,” he noted, sounding excited.

Ignoring him, Robin continued, “However, I will say this: You remember that teddy bear you gave her earlier this year? That tiny, little red one?”

“Yeah,” Steve said, smiling warmly at the memory. “She wouldn’t admit it, but she was kind of sad because nobody sent her one of those dumb, anonymous carnations on Valentine’s Day at school, and everybody else had gotten at least one. So I ditched last period to run to the store and get her something, and that bear was pretty much all they had left. It wasn’t exactly what I had in mind, but she seemed to like it. She’s probably thrown it away by now, though.”

“She sleeps with it every single night.” Robin watched as Steve’s eyebrows raised slightly in surprise. “And the carnation you got? With the little note that said “I think you’re perfect”? That was from her.”

“What?!” he exclaimed, his jaw dropping. “There’s no way! I thought – I hoped it was her, so I compared her handwriting to the note, but it didn’t match!”

“That’s because she had me write it for her, so you wouldn’t know it was her.”

“Why didn’t she want me to know?” Steve asked, sadness tinting his voice. “I’d have asked her out on the spot.”

“I asked her the same thing, but she was adamant that you didn’t see her that way at all. She was worried that things between you would get weird if you knew the note was from her, but she still wanted to get it off her chest in some way, even if it was in secret.”

“Wow,” he murmured, staring at the ground in shock. “She’s the smartest girl I know, but she’s somehow so clueless…. I’ve been in love with her for months.”

“Well, I’ve said too much already, but I’ll reiterate: you need to ask her out already,” Robin stated, and Steve just nodded, lost in thought as he continued to stare blankly at the tile floor. After a couple seconds, he abruptly looked up at her, and she could practically see the lightbulb going off in his head.

“I know just the thing.”

Steve called you right when his shift ended at 4:00 PM, and asked you to come pick him up, claiming that his car wasn’t running and he needed a ride home. When you got there, he was waiting for you outside the mall, having changed out of his work uniform into a sweater and jeans (and touched up his hair, of course). He jogged over to your car just as you parked, and waved for you to roll down your window.

“Hey, before we go, would you mind coming in with me? There’s something I want to show you.”

If it had been anyone else, you might have said no, that you're tired and you'd rather just go home. But this was Steve, and he was looking at you with those big, brown puppy-dog eyes. So, you smiled and nodded at him, then got out of your car to follow him. He took a second to double-check the mall map just inside the front doors, then grabbed your hand, saying, “Come on, it’s this way.” You were really glad that he was busy navigating to wherever the hell it was he was taking you, because that meant he didn’t notice how red your face got.

The fact that Steve fucking Harrington was holding your hand dazed you to the point that you weren’t paying attention in the slightest as he led you through the mall. Eventually, he stopped in front of a store, which was evidently your destination. You looked up to see a sign saying ‘Build-A-Bear’ atop the doorway. Steve just grinned at you, excitement written all over his face, as you raised an eyebrow at him.

“Uh… are we at the right place?”

“Yep!” he answered simply, before pulling you inside. You tried to hide your frown as he let go of your hand, before he placed his hands on your shoulders and spun you to face the wall of... what appeared to be empty stuffed animal carcases. “Alright, pick one.”

It finally clicked then: he took you here to have you make one as a gift. You turned to him with a bright smile, “Really?”

“Yes, really,” he answered, mirroring your smile. “Whichever one you want.”

You spent a good ten minutes figuring out which you liked best, before deciding on a soft, dark brown bear. You told Steve that you just thought this one was the cutest, but really, it was the fact that its color reminded you of Steve’s eyes, and its fluffy fur reminded you of Steve’s hair. (And yes, you’re well aware that that’s super cheesy.) The employee smiled kindly at the two of you as you brought the bear over to her for stuffing. She gave you the same spiel that she’d have given a child – such as instructing you to place a kiss on the tiny felt heart before she put it in the bear’s chest, so “she’ll always know how much you love her!” Steve watched you with adoration as you followed along with all the steps, before the lady asked if you’d like to record something on their little gadget and place it in the bear’s paw, so that whenever you squeezed that spot, it would play.

“Yes, yes we do,” Steve interjected, and you glanced at him. He ignored your confusion, asking the woman, “Is it okay if I borrow it for a minute? I want to record something, but I don’t want my friend here to hear it just yet.”

The lady handed him the device, and he shot you a grin before holding up a finger to signal that he’d be back in one moment, then jogged outside the store. After about a minute, Steve jogged back in and returned it to the lady. You continued to look at him with a raised brow, but he ignored you, standing silently next to you as he watched the employee. She was careful to not press on the device, which would ruin Steve’s little surprise, as she placed it in the bear’s paw, then added your desired amount of stuffing to the bear with their fancy machine, sewed it up, and handed it back to you. She guided the two of you over to the register, where Steve paid for your bear, then walked with you out of the store, heading back to the parking lot.

“So when exactly am I allowed to listen to this super secret message?” you inquired, glancing up at Steve, who just smiled slightly. Wordlessly, he took your free hand, just as he had on the way to Build-A-Bear, and you held the bear tightly to your chest with your other arm. The same blush from before crawled its way up your neck and onto your face.

“You can in just a minute, when we get outside.”

You nodded, then cleared your throat and started speaking about the first thing that came to mind, to try and distract yourself so that the blush would fade. Unfortunately for you, what you ended up rambling about only caused you more embarrassment, and the blush worsened.

“I forgot to say it earlier, but thank you so much for getting this for me. It was an awesome surprise. This is probably kind of dumb, but I, uh… I’ve still got that one you gave me on Valentine’s Day. It’s getting kind of worn out, so –” you cut yourself off, realizing that you almost admitted to sleeping with the damn thing, which would probably sound super weird to him. “Well, I mean, it’s just sitting up on a shelf or whatever, so it’s not getting worn out, just… dusty. Yeah, it’s getting dusty. Um, anyway, this is a nice upgrade from that one, and I appreciate it.”

Steve chuckled as he nodded, then responded sincerely, “It’s no problem. I’m glad you like it – and I’m glad you kept the one from Valentine’s Day.”

He held the door open for you as you exited the mall, and headed back over to your car. The anticipation began to bubble up inside you, as you started to seriously wonder what in the world he would have said on the recording. Steve remained silent as you maneuvered through the parking lot, and both times you glanced at him, he looked almost… nervous? Must have been worrying about what’s wrong with his vehicle or something, you thought. Before you could ask, you’d arrived at your car, so you quickly leaned against the hood and faced him.

“Can I listen to it now?”

Steve took a deep breath, then gave you a worry-laced smile and said, “Yeah, go for it.”

You practically squealed with excitement as you held the bear in front of you and squeezed his paw, then you heard Steve’s voice through the tiny speaker.

“A little birdie told me that you’re the one who sent me that carnation on Valentine’s Day senior year. And I just wanted to say… I think you’re perfect, too. And I love you. Will you be my girlfriend?”

You felt your heart stop and your breath catch in your throat. You stared at the bear for a few moments, before you determined that yes, the recording had actually said that. It wasn’t a figment of your imagination. Steve Harrington just said that he loves you and asked you to be his girlfriend. Holy shit. Holy shit.

“So, um…” Steve began, snapping you out of your stupor. He cleared his throat and shoved his hands in his pockets. “If you don’t feel the same way, that’s totally fine. I mean, Valentine’s Day was months ago, so I get it if your feelings have changed or whatever. I just… I don’t know, I wanted to give it a shot, but you don’t –”

Without even thinking, you lunged at him, wrapping your arms around his neck and pulling him into a kiss. You poured as much warmth and passion and love into the kiss as you could, and relished in the feeling of his arms wrapping around your waist, holding you tightly against his chest. It felt like the kiss lasted for an eternity, but it still wasn’t long enough before you pulled away slightly to catch your breath, and respond how you should have responded a few minutes ago, if you hadn’t been stunned to silence.

“Nothing has changed, Steve. I definitely still think you’re perfect. I love you too, and I want nothing more than to be your girlfriend.”

“Oh, thank God,” he muttered, then let out a loud exhale. “You got so quiet after you played the recording, I was scared shitless.”

“I’m sorry,” you said, chuckling at how visibly terrified he was. He just smiled at you.

“It’s okay. The most amazing, beautiful, intelligent, kind-hearted woman I’ve ever met is my girlfriend now, so I’d say I’m doing alright,” Steve quipped, then kissed you again, slower and sweeter this time. He abruptly pulled back a bit, “Oh yeah, by the way, my car is fine.”

“So this was all just a clever ruse to get me here, to Build-A-Bear?” you asked, grinning. Then a realization dawned on you. “Wait, Robin told you about the note?!”

Steve burst into laughter, then nodded. “Don’t be mad at her, though! She only told me about it to convince me to ask you out. Just like you with the carnation, I’ve been terrified to tell you how I feel, because I was scared to make things weird – or worse, lose you as a friend.”

“Hate to break it to ya, but you’re stuck with me, Stevie,” you stated, giving him another quick kiss. Steve smiled down at you, his eyes full of adoration.

“I wouldn’t have it any other way.”

#steve harrington #steve harrington x reader #steve harrington x you #steve harrington fanfiction #steve harrington fic #steve harrington fan fic #steve harrington fanfic #steve harrington fan fiction #steve harrington fluff #my writing #stranger things

[yandere-ac]

The 24th of December

Cw: yandere, kidnapping, obsessive behaviour, implied murder

Ding dong, ding dong

The sounds of the island bell tune rang through the air as the clock struck 6 pm. You were out on a small stroll around the island, trying to calm your nerves as anxiety and tension festered in your stomach. Soon it was time, time for you to go home and get ready. Get ready for what? The dinner with the Nook family. Mr Tom Nook himself had invited you to celebrate toy day with him and his boys. Now this wouldn’t have been a problem a couple of months ago, you had been to their house multiple times and had eaten dinner with them as well. It wasn’t unexpected since you and Tom had an unspoken thing going on. Tom was a little old fashioned when it came to labels, he didn’t need to put any label on most of the factors in his life. His sexuality? Who cares, he's attracted to whoever he’s attracted to. His relationship to Timmy and Tommy? If they wanted to see him as a mentor then that’s fine, if they wanted to see him as a dad then that’s also fine. His relationship with you? Partners, soulmates, whatever you wanted to call it. He didn’t really care too much, he just knew what was there was real, and it very much was not just platonic. None of you had really acknowledged it, it all started as mutual admiration and trust from both sides, as any good relationship should. You watered it down to you wanting comfort and encouragement in your life, which Tom was very good at providing. But then it slowly turned into a sort of attraction, attraction that you were not ready to face. So you ignored it. But then came turkey day. You, just like toy day, were invited to eat dinner with Tom, Timmy and Tommy. And you did, and you had so much fun. The four of you ate food, watched movies, played games, and at the end of the day, after Tom put Timmy and Tommy to bed, you and him hung out together. You two just sat and talked while, admittedly, having a couple of glasses of wine. But that didn't matter, what mattered was what you said during your little chat. Tom had started talking about him and Redds past relationship. Which hadn't been new, Tom had talked about him before, mainly about how horrible he was and how he had hurt him, so this isn't exactly new territory for you. And yet, everytime you heard Tom speak about Redd, you still felt just as angry. Redd had no right treating Tom the way he did. The way he scammed poor Tom as if he was nothing more than a gullible fool, it made your blood boil. Tom deserved to be treated like the wonderful person he was, he deserved someone that loved and cared about him, someone like… You might have gotten a bit too overzealous as you told Tom what a bastard the fox was and how he deserved better. And you might have slipped up and accidentally told him something you probably shouldn't have.

You don't remember much from that evening, maybe because of the alcohol, maybe because of repression. You only remembered small glimpses here and there, some laughter, some crying, at one point you swore you two watched a movie. But beyond that, nothing, nothing but darkness. You had woken up that morning next to Tom, quite literally. It had seemed you two slept in the same bed, his bed. And it would appear that he might have clung onto you during the night because as you woke up, Tom had his arms wrapped around you. You had tried to get up carefully, not wanting to wake him up. But when you did so, Tom pulled you back down rather aggressively. And so, you just laid there for about 20 minutes before Tom finally got up.

Ever since Turkey day, Tom's behavior had started getting weirder and weirder. Anytime you entered the residential service he would stare at you with the same eerie smile as if he was a bear staring at an injured little rabbit. It made you increasingly more uncomfortable, the only reason you felt a little better was the fact that Isabelle was there with you. You remembered one time when you were discussing a resident that had been bothering you with Isabelle. Jacques, the blue bird that simply would not leave you alone. He’d been the cause of much of your disturbance and stress during the upcoming holidays. But during your conversation, you felt a pair of eyes practically drilling themselves into your perimeter. You looked over to Tom only to see he was, like usual, staring at you two. But his gaze seemed more out of it, almost unfocused, and yet, there seemed to be spite in his eyes. As soon as he noticed that YOU noticed him he immediately looked away for a few seconds before rising out of his seat and walking towards you and Isabelle.

"Hi Tom, how’s it going?" You greeted him, giving your construction consultant a half-baked smile. He smiled in return, face going from a slight frown into more of a tired smile. "I’m doing quite alright Y/N. I apologize for intervening but it would appear that O’hare is still bothering you?" Tom said as he gave you a pondering look. "Well... no. He hadn’t really been respectful of my boundaries or left me alone even when I and Isabelle have told him off several times." You told the tanuki, you could see his tail twitch slightly as you told him this. "Ah, I see. Well, I’m terribly sorry to hear that. Maybe it’s my time to step in then? No offense to your methods or anything Isabelle, but they don’t seem to be working. I know you don’t want me to intervene but I feel like I need to do something if it’s getting this bad." Tom said, turning to his coworker and giving her a look of sympathy. He knew Isabelle struggled with her appearance since not a lot of people took her as seriously as they should be, but he couldn’t just stand back while he watched you get harassed by this bird. Isabelle let out a small sigh and a slight frown. "I suppose you're right about that Tom. I think you would be a little bit more effective than I am." She looked back at you. "I’m sorry we let this get so out of hand Y/N." Before you could respond, Tom jumped in and said something, something that might not have meant to sound as hostile as it did, but nevertheless still did. "It’s simply unacceptable." Something about the way he said it, the way his eyes trailed off, the way his eyes narrowed. The initial phrase might not have been so bad, but the way he said it, it sent shivers up your spine, which Tom immediately reacted to. "Hmm? Are you cold Y/N? Or sick?" His eyes turned from minacious to gentle like a light switch being turned on. "N-No no! It’s fine. Just a random shiver. Don’t worry Tom." You said with a smile. A genuine smile. Even if Tom could be a little obstinate and overprotective, you knew it came from a good place. He cared for you, and you appreciated that. "Nonsense, if you’re feeling under the weather then you should go home Y/N dear." Tom insisted as he stroked your arm gently. You knew there was no fighting him once he made his mind up, guess you’re sick now.

That evening when you left the residential services you could feel Tom staring at you through his window as you left. You knew he meant well but sometimes he could be a little overwhelming. You just hoped he didn’t do anything to harsh with Jacques

You let out a deep sigh, a cloud of fog exiting your mouth as you did so. Cold air filled your lungs as you took yet another breath in. It was almost time, you should probably head home. As you walked across the shoreline of the island, on your way to your house, you felt a clump form in your stomach. You felt strange, almost uneasy. You didn’t want to say that you felt anxious about the dinner, but that was probably the closest expression that would describe how you felt. You knew it wouldn’t be a problem at first. Timmy and Tommy would be present until it was their bedtime, it was after that bedtime that you were worried about. You hadn’t been alone with Tom since Turkey day, and you were worried about what would happen once you were. But at the same time, you needed to talk to him, a talk which could not happen if anyone else was present during the conversation. Your thoughts came to a close as you neared your house. It didn’t matter if you felt weird about the whole thing, you needed to talk to him. And this might be the only chance to do so.

You took a deep breath, building yourself up to do such a simple task as knocking on a door. It was time. Ignoring all the feelings brewing up in your stomach and head you took one last breath, mist once more flowing out as you did so. And then, you knocked. It only took a couple of seconds before the door practically threw itself up to reveal two small, and very excited, tanukis.

"Y/N!...ʸ/ᴺᵎ" The two boys shouted. They were wearing matching christmas sweaters and Santa hats that were way too big for them. Timmy having a red sweater with the words naughty on it and Tommy having a green one with the words nice on it. Timmy grabbed ahold of your hand with his small paw and pulled you inside, all while Tommy enthusiastically bounced up and down. As you were pulled inside an immediate warmth embraced your body, like a thick blanket on a rainy night. Even so, a more prominent scent engulfed you, the aroma of fresh food was almost overbearing as you walked in. "Ohoho. Do my ears deceive me or is that our dear island representative?" You heard Toms voice all the way from the kitchen. You couldn’t help but smile as you could practically hear the grin present on his face. Tommy let out a small giggle as he ran up to the kitchen. "Don’t know! Guess you’ll have to come see for yourself!" You took off your jacket and beanie as Timmy led you over to the couch. But rather than sitting down in it, he sat you down on the big fluffy carpet next to the chimney and the big Christmas tree. Underneath it laid almost a dozen presents, seems like the constant debt that Tom was handing out finally seemed to pay off. Dumb pun aside, you felt yourself smile as you saw the sight before you. Tommy was now pulling Tom out from the kitchen and into the living room. He was wearing a Santa hat and a red christmas sweater that said "worlds best santa". As he and Tommy walked up to you and sat down next to you and Timmy, you crossed your arms and cocked your eyebrows. "I wasn’t informed that this was going to be a sweater party. Could have warned me about that, now I just feel underdressed." Tom chuckled slightly at this as he took off his hat and tossed it to you. "Here you go. Put that on, yes yes."

For the rest of that evening, you and the nooks ate the food that Tom had cooked up, all of which was absolutely delicious. Joking around as the time passed, and you felt more and more comfortable as time went on. So much to the point where you didn’t know why you felt anxious before. Finally, at 8 pm, you all gathered once more around the Christmas tree. Timmy and Tommy started unwrapping their presents in glee, most of which were from Tom, some of them were from Isabelle and Blathers, and some of them from you. Every once in a while, you and Tom would open some presents. Timmy and Tommy had given you a drawing of you and them together, which was certainly a cute gesture. You had brought the two into a big hug after that one. The boys had given Tom a mug that said "#1 dad", which almost brought the tanuki to tears. You had given Tom a custom sweater vest, just like the one he had back in the day

And still, Tom's present was something that you hadn’t quite expected. You had picked up the box which was neatly wrapped with red wrapping paper and some yellow glittery ribbons. "Ooh, what could this be? Is it a puppy?" You joked as you smirked at Tom. He let out a small laugh. "No, not quite, but be careful when unwrapping. I do hope you enjoy it, the boys helped me pick it out." Now you were intrigued. You carefully unwrapped the box and opened its lid only to see... "oh my god..." there, in the box, laid a crown. The one you had seen in the Ables shop plenty of times, the one that you had ranted about to Tom, about how you couldn’t afford it but wanted it so badly. That crown was laying before you, in your hands. "I... I’m... I-I don’t know... what to say I-'' you looked at Tom, his eyes were full of adoration and love, pure unfiltered love. And that frightened you. "Thank you Tom. Thank you." You tried putting on a smile, but it was hard as that huge clump of anxiety started to build up again. "Oh the pleasures all mine, Y/N my dear." Tom said to you as he tilted his head and gave you a gentle smile. Timmy and Tommy had started to giggle as they looked at each other, thinking the exact same thing. Everyone in the room knew what was going on, but only one person, you, knew what was truly going on.

The gift unwrapping continued. Now it was just Timmy and Tommy left that had gifts. They kept going, tearing into the gifts like hungry predators biting into their terrified prey, like... like... you lost your train of thought as you looked over at Tom. His eyes were focused on Timmy and Tommy, carefully watching their reactions to their gifts. But ever so often, Tom would look over at you, and if your eyes ever met, he would smile at you. Maybe he did it to calm you down but it sure didn’t help, not even in the slightest.

Soon, Timmy and Tommy had successfully opened all of their presents and had now shifted to playing with any of the toys they got. But that didn’t last long as Timmy let out a huge yawn and Tommy almost slumped over. Oh no. “Well, looks like it’s time for you two to go to bed, hm?” Tom said as he moved closer to the boys, taking the two in each hand. “N... noo... we’re not...” Tommy couldn’t even finish as he was interrupted by a huge yawn. “No, you’re done. Come on now.” And so, Tom led the two small tanukis up the stairs and into their bedroom. “Goodnight.” You called out to them before returning to your own state of panic. This was it. You were gonna be completely alone with Tom.

“Now then, terribly sorry about that Y/N.” Tom said as he came down the stairs. You tried to calm down but it ultimately failed. Tom was very observant, so it didn’t take long for him to see that something was wrong. “Y/N? Are you alright dear? You look a little pale.” He said as he sat down next to you. “....Tom I.... the crown, it really wasn’t necessary.” You managed to get your first concern out. You looked down in the box once more, you just couldn’t believe he would actually give you something like that. “Tsk, Y/N please. I tell you what, it was nothing really. And when I say that I’m not just being humble. It really is nothing, I assure you. I could buy five of those for you if I wanted to. So please, don’t feel guilty.” You knew he meant to say that as a way to comfort you, but that only made you feel worse. “Y-Yes I understand that it’s not a lot to you but, for me, it’s very much a lot. I know you mean well Tom but really, I just don’t know if I can accept this. I mean, it’s just too expensi-'' Tom interrupted you as he placed a hand on your cheek. You froze up as you looked into his big blue eyes. They were so calm, so gentle, so utterly terrifying. “Trust me my darling, nothing is too expensive when it comes to you.” As he told you this, he leaned in and planted a small peck on your lips. You felt your face turn pink as he let out a chuckle, still holding onto your face. “I’m happy I got to celebrate toy day with you Y/N, my sweet sweet Y/N.” Before you could respond, you felt yourself being picked up bridal style and carried away. Tom carried you to his room, it would seem like he wanted to sleep together again. Which wouldn’t be so much of a problem, the man was built like a giant teddy bear. But right now, there was nothing you wanted less than to be in close contact with Tom. But it would seem like nothing was going to stop him.

As he laid you down carefully, he laid next to you and brought you in close to him, stroking your hair and nuzzling up to you. You were completely quiet, feeling like if you said something you would die on the spot.

“...Tom....” you said quietly, trying to build up the curate to ask him the question that you came here for. “Yes?” His voice was soft and smooth, like honey, and it shook your very being. “... what... what did you say to Jacque?” As soon as the question left your mouth the atmosphere turned cold. Toms eyes trailed off as all the warmth left his eyes. “... I said what needed to be said.” It had been three weeks since Jacques had mysteriously moved out of the island and it wasn’t hard to put two and two together, you were certain that Tom had something to do with it. “I asked you not to go overboard...” You said, looking down and avoiding Tom's gaze, a gaze that was now fixated onto you. “He was harassing you Y/N! What was I supposed to do? Acting nice wasn’t going to work! I was simply-“ Tom cut himself off as he realised he was practically shouting. He let out a deep sigh. “I was simply protecting... what is mine...”

As he said this, he placed a kiss on your forehead. This certainly caught you off guard. “I’m sorry? What did you say?” You asked him, but he didn’t answer, at least not in the way you wanted him to. “You know, when I was a boy, toy day never felt as magical as everyone set it up to be. Me and my family didn’t have too many bells back then, so most I ever got were three broken crayons. Even then, I couldn’t enjoy it without feeling the guilt of pushing more money problems onto my parents. But now...” Tom let out yet another deep chuckle, he looked at you with hungry eyes, eyes that pierced into your soul. “Now, I’ve got all the bells in the world! I could buy anything! Anything and everything! Except for... one thing. One thing that I crave so deeply, yet, can never buy. You don’t understand how many years I have gone through, how many toy days I’ve had to endure. You don’t understand the amount of towns I’ve lived in, the amount of humans who have abandoned me! How do I know that you’re not going to leave me? Just like my previous humans, just like my parents, just like Redd!? I don’t want to lose you Y/N! I can’t lose you Y/N!” Toms outburst made you shrink down in his arms. You felt yourself start to shake slightly as he continued.

“Now, now that I finally have the resources, I’m going to MAKE SURE you never leave me Y/N. My sweet little darling.” You started to struggle in his grasp, hoping to get away from him. But it was no use, he was so much stronger than you in every single way. ”Hey now, hey now.... shhh, shhh. It’s okay. Everything is going to be okay. I’m here, no one is ever going to harass you ever again. Not if I have anything to say about it.” Tom said as he brought you closer once more, this time he started to kiss you a bit more roughly rather than a quick peck on the lips. You knew that struggling was futile, so you simply tried to relax yourself as he enjoyed himself. Once he was done, he looked directly at you. “This toy day, I’ve made sure to get myself something special. Just for me.” What you didn’t know at the time was that he had locked all of the windows and doors. But you would soon find out in the morning.

“I love you Y/N. Maybe you don’t realise it yet. But I do. I’ll show you, soon you will see just how much I love you.”

———————

It feels so weird to say that it’s been 2 months since I last wrote for Tom Nook. Like what? What have I even been doing??? I’ve been feeling the withdrawals and I wanted to make a little Christmas special. So hope y’all enjoy! Merry Christmas and happy holidays!

#yandere #acnh #animal crossing #yandere animal crossing #yandere acnh #animal crossing x reader #ac x reader #animal crossing new horizons #Tom Nook #yandere tom nook #tom nook acnh #timmy and tommy #tw yandere #tw kidnapping #tw obsessive behaviour #tw implied murder #yandere x reader #yandere x darling #yandere acnh x reader #Tom nook x reader #Yandere Tom nook x reader

[sunsetcurvecuddles]

(intimacy of "how did you know that?" "because I know you") for lukebobby if you could please?

this is, i believe, the oldest prompt i have from you in my inbox LOL but here we go!

when my brain gets bitter | luke x bobby or luke&bobby, 1.3k | warning for descriptions of gender dysphoria/mentions of unsafe binding | ao3 link in reblogs!

--

“Huh. Nice of you to stop by, Mercer.”

Luke stops and blinks. Bobby’s in the doorway, leaning his shoulder on the doorframe, arms crossed, and grinning at Luke in a way that doesn’t quite reach his eyes. For a moment, Luke gets lost trying to analyse his expression.

Bobby seems to take this as Luke missing his joke. “Because of the pacing,” he explains, like this should be obvious.

“Right,” says Luke, too late, “because Alex—yeah, yep. Good one.” Now that he’s stopped walking from one end of the studio to the other, he feels the nervous, horrible energy starting to build inside his body again, finds himself bouncing on the balls of his feet, rubbing his hands over his arms even though they feel all strange under his fingers. “Is he, uh. Is he here, actually? Or Reggie? Or anyone? Obviously you’re here.” Luke laughs. It sounds awkward and stilted even to his own ears.

Unsurprisingly, Bobby doesn’t look reassured. “Uh, nope. Just me.” He pauses. “I mean. It is nine on a Thursday night. They’re probably home.”

Right, with their families. Luke tastes resentment, bitter and coppery like blood, in his mouth. Man, he wishes he could tear his own arms off, his body feels so wrong. And his ribs hurt when he breathes in.

Shit, his ribs hurt.

“Luke,” says Bobby, slightly too quiet, too careful. Luke misses the mocking tone from when Bobby had just arrived. “How long you been wearing it?”

For some reason, Bobby’s concern is always the hardest to bear. Alex is very upfront with his worry, nagging and pushing and insistent; Reggie hides his, manages to pass his worry off as other things. Bobby is the worst of both worlds – involved, and he cares, but he thinks he hides it when he doesn’t at all.

“It’s fine,” he says, in the least convincing voice ever, because he hadn’t grabbed extra clothes when he left his parents in a rush of hot-headed impulsivity, so now he's stuck in this stupid tight tank top and if he takes his binder off it’s going to be so fucking obvious and he’s already so upset with how the rest of him looks and feels that he can’t handle the idea.

Bobby’s looking at Luke now and just like his tone before, his gaze is too thoughtful, gentle, cautious. All the things Luke prefers not to see on Bobby.

“I’ll be right back,” Bobby says, and with that, he pushes himself up off the doorframe and heads back up the path to the house.

There’s a few silent minutes for Luke to work himself up.

This isn’t always how it feels. He knows that. A lot of days, now, he feels fine, even great. He bounces around in his sleeveless shirts with his short, messy hair and feels like he looks every bit as boy as Reggie or Bobby or Alex. Some days he feels like his body has no part of that at all, feels sheer joy just being himself, feels ecstatic lost in music or in dumb movies or in talking about his big dreams for the future. But today he can’t help but feel like his middle school self again, surly and bitter and the wrong shape, before he could properly explain to the boys what it felt like when they yelled his wrong name across the cafeteria, or jokingly called him their girlfriend, before he had the courage to tell them he wasn’t a girl in the first place.

He hates this. He hates how messed up he feels, how there doesn’t seem to be a single stable thing in his life, how he can’t even be happy just sitting in a room by himself in a shirt he wishes he wasn’t wearing, how when he turns and accidentally catches his own reflection in the window it all looks off and his shoulders—

Bobby’s back. Luke didn’t even hear him coming down the drive, but there he is, silhouetted against the door, and he slips inside as soon as Luke gives him a go-ahead nod. He has something bundled in his arms, and it’s only when he gets closer that Luke realises it’s Bobby’s favourite Nirvanahoodie.

“If you’ll take it off,” Bobby says gruffly, not quite looking at him, “then you can wear this. Deal?”

Luke feels his emotions all crawl up his throat at once. Before he’d started testosterone, he probably would’ve started crying.

“Then your arms won’t bother you, either,” Bobby adds, like he’s still trying to sell Luke on it, like Luke’s not having a tiny breakdown over his thoughtfulness already.

“How did you know that?” asks Luke, hushed. He barely voices these thoughts to the boys. Kinda doesn’t want to remind them that they’re not all having the same experience, when he can avoid it.

“Because I know you,” Bobby says, like it just slips out. Then blushes. Clears his throat, stiff and awkward. Like he thinks Luke doesn’t want his help, instead of his help being the best thing ever, the exact right amount of detached and understanding all at once. “Anyway. Deal?”

“Deal,” Luke agrees. Bobby chucks the sweater at his head and Luke has to put an arm up to defend himself, a laugh startled out of him before he realises it’s happening. When he scrambles the sleeves out of his face, he can see Bobby grinning, even as he rolls his eyes and tries to hide it.

Luke changes in the bathroom, pulls his binder over his head with some difficulty and a little pain, but the relief of being able to take a full breath is well worth it. Quickly, he pulls Bobby’s hoodie over his head, so he doesn’t spend too long finding more things wrong with how he looks. It’s way too big on him, which sometimes might bother him but tonight feels just right, the sleeves coming down over his hands. It’s soft and it smells like Bobby’s lola’s laundry detergent, and for one small moment Luke presses his sweater paws to his face and inhales.

It smells more like home than his own house. He tries not to dwell on that fact too much.

When he returns, Bobby is sprawled out on the couch, guitar in his lap. He’s pulling at the strings but not like he has any real idea what he’s playing, more just to make the sounds echo around the room.

“You tired?” Luke asks. He can’t help how his voice sounds a little hopeful.

“Nah,” Bobby replies, even though he always at least looks exhausted. For a moment, he gives Luke a considering look, and Luke worries he’s going to keep pushing, going to ask Luke what’s wrong, or whether he feels better, or anything about his feelings at all. Instead, Bobby just says, “Was wondering if you wanted to try and finish that new song we were playing with on Sunday. Really thought we were getting somewhere with that second verse.”

“Yes,” Luke crows, grabbing his guitar and flopping immediately down onto the couch. “I was thinking maybe if we changed the chord progression up just a little—”

Now that Luke is able to breathe, now that he’s binder-free, and practically drowning in Bobby’s hoodie, the idea of losing himself in his guitar and in the heady rush of song-writing with Bobby sounds like the greatest thing in the world. Bobby, who's looking up from his guitar to grin at Luke across the couch, who always pulls a surprise out of the bag that fixes everything right when Luke least expects it. Watching and listening and paying attention, in all the ways Luke needs it.

God, Luke fucking loves him. He puts his head down, closes his eyes, listens to the way their voices and their fingers on strings braid together into harmonies that make Luke’s heart sing. He kinda forgets to think about his body at all.

#jatp #lobby #lukebobby #luke patterson #bobby wilson #julie and the phantoms #fanfic #tw dysphoria #tw unsafe binding #ask #chickwiththepurpleguitar

[sgtjbbhasmyheart]

Drunk Texting Is(n’t) Bad for Your Health- Chapter Seven

Series Summary: Talk about your unconventional meet-cute! Bucky receives a text by mistake requesting he prove he’s not Reader’s sister. The easy dialogue between Reader and Bucky sparks a natural friendship, but could it lead to more? Bucky still deems himself unworthy of any form of affection or love. Reader is hellbent to prove him wrong. With the help of some (meddling) friends along the way, Bucky may get his happily-ever-after after all.

Pairing: Bucky Barnes x Reader

Word Count: 2684

Warnings: ANGST, bad language words

A/N: Thank you, thank you, thank you for all your love and support for this series! Everyone who has liked or reblogged this week after week means the world to me!

A/N 2: I split their date into 2 parts because I wanted to give perspective from both sides. Enjoy Bucky’s POV first!

DO NOT copy or replicate without my permission.

An anxiousness bubbled up inside Bucky as he and (Y/N) stepped out of her office building and onto the crowded Manhattan sidewalk. It was five o’clock, meaning every other yuppie in New York was trying to get somewhere as well. Walking shoulder to shoulder with her felt like a feat in itself. Everyone around them seemed to be heading in the opposite direction, and they were fighting against the current like a pair of spawning salmon swimming upstream.

With his size and stature, most passers-by gave Bucky a wide berth. But with (Y/N), they didn’t. They jostled her like a small boat caught at sea during a storm; they gave her no mind in their rudeness. She fought to stay astride him as businessmen shouldered past her like a runningback fighting to make it to the endzone.

A feeling of protectiveness washed over him. Longing to whisk (Y/N) away from her place on the dirty cement increased with every step. The defensive surge fizzing right below the surface wanted him to tuck her into his side and glower at anyone who dreamed of coming close.

Bucky couldn’t, of course. He had to play it as if they’d only met a few days ago, no matter how much he wanted to. Instead, he grasped her empty hand and led her through the swarm of fellow New Yorkers.

(Y/N)’s hand was warm inside his, and the very thought of him touching her made his pulse quicken. The reaction wasn’t unpleasant. Though, it fuzzily reminded him of his teenage years. He was nearly one hundred years old! He shouldn’t be acting like a lovesick fool.

But here he was- swooning over a girl like he was fifteen again.

Bucky felt a yanking on his arm as (Y/N) pulled him from the stream of rushing bodies. Unmoving, at the edge of the rush, he found it was easier to breathe again. The fretfulness bled away once they were standing still.

He peered around, questioning why they’d stopped. Wedged between two high-rise buildings was a squat cafe. The shop’s window front beamed onto the footpath like the mecca it was, calling bystanders in from the street. Above the green striped awning over the entrance spelled out Deja Brew in colorful, blocky letters. Bucky chuckled at the play on words.

Towing the door open, (Y/N) tugged him in further.

Stepping inside the brightly lit coffee shop, Bucky was blanketed by the overpowering scent of fresh coffee grounds. It was potent, hanging thick in the air. Taking a deep breath in, he was transported back to a rickety kitchen and a second-hand table, where he and Steve would take their morning coffee and breakfast. The smell reminded him of simpler times. Times before all the trouble Hydra had caused. He let go of a nostalgic sigh.

“Right?” (Y/N) asked, standing at his side. He’d nearly forgotten she was there. “I love it here. It always feels like coming home.”

Bucky grinned down at (Y/N), understanding how she felt. The exposed brick walls, the tidy, destressed floors, and the primary colors being strewn about the space gave him a sense of sentimentality.

“I come in here several times a week,” she explained. “Not just because it’s convenient, but it reminds me of growing up.”

Bucky nodded in agreement, taking in the warm atmosphere of the quaint shop. “I get that.”

The pair strolled up to the counter and, presumably, the barista taking orders. Without looking in their direction, the young man in an apron spoke in a monotone, “Welcome to Deja Brew. What can I get started for you?”

A smile slowly crawled across (Y/N)’s lips. “Hey, Bryson. Didn’t know you were working tonight?”

Bryson’s head whipped up so fast; Bucky thought it might detach from his shoulders. His cheeks dimpled, and the corners of his striking green eyes crinkled into a bright smile. “Hey, beautiful!” Bryson beamed. “I’m doing a double--covering for Kari. I wasn’t expecting you tonight.”

“You know me,” (Y/N) said with a tinkling laugh. “Just can’t stay away.” Bryson replied with his own laughter.

A flare of jealousy twisted unexpectedly in Bucky’s gut. Was (Y/N) flirting?

Bucky supposed he could consider Bryson classically handsome. He was taller than Bucky with short, sandy brown hair and broad shoulders. His muscular frame filled out the black polo shirt he wore, but he wasn’t overly bulky- like he played baseball in college. There was a smattering of light freckles over his high cheekbones and straight nose. And eyelashes to rival Steve’s.

Was this his competition?

Bucky grumbled to himself and gritted his teeth as he watched the two giggle over some inside joke. There was an envious gnawing behind his ribcage as Bryson leaned onto his elbows over the countertop, inching closer to (Y/N). That was his girl!

Without warning, like a shaken soda bottle, his voice exploded from his mouth, dripping annoyance, “I’ll take a medium Americano, a chocolate croissant, and whatever the lady is having.”

Shocked back into the present by Bucky’s gruff words, Bryson shot upright. His startled green eyes shifted from (Y/N) to Bucky and back again. Bucky could barely contain his eye-roll as the other man feigned busyness after being caught slacking. It was apparent Bryson only had eyes for (Y/N), or he would have noticed she wasn’t alone, despite Bucky standing mere centimeters away from her.

Possessiveness tingled at Bucky’s fingertips, and the compulsion to wrap his arm around (Y/N)’s waist was strong. He wanted so badly to reach out and pull her close. Show this punk who she belonged to.

Regardless of his feelings, though, Bucky had no claim over (Y/N). He’d known her as Bucky for a scant three days. He imagined she’d known Bryson a lot longer. He couldn’t profess his desire to be hers in such a short time, no matter the urgency. It would come off as weird and controlling.

So, he resolved to bite the inside of his cheek and grin and bear it. He could bide his time, right? He’d waited seventy years. What’s another seventy more?

Bucky cringed internally at the thought of waiting.

“(Y/N), you know this guy?” Bryson inquired, acting as if he’d finally grown a pair, with a bite to his words.

Bucky’s pulse fluttered as (Y/N) turned to face him, a smile on her lips and something sparkling in her eyes. “I do,” she said. “He’s my date.” She grinned bigger with a cute scrunch to her nose as she said date.

Bryson’s eyes widened in alarm, then quickly narrowed in suspicion as he observed the flowers (Y/N) held. Bucky wondered, momentarily, if he was the first guy (Y/N) had ever brought into the shop. Was Bryson just as jealous as he was?

It wasn’t until he saw the almost imperceivable head tilt to get (Y/N) to step away from Bucky’s side did he realize what Bryson’s genuine concern was about.

(Y/N)’s brow furrowed in confusion as she took a stride to her right.

In a hushed whisper, Bryson asked, “You know who he is, right?” Bucky’s super-hearing picked up every word.

(Y/N) unsuccessfully tried to blink away her uncertainty, causing her eyebrows to pinch together further. “Who exactly is he, Bryson?” (Y/N) pondered, an edge of irritation leaking into her speech. She crossed her arms over her chest, drawing her sweater tighter around her body.

Bucky could hear it in her voice. (Y/N) knew precisely what Bryson had meant and was trying to draw it out of him.

“You know,” Bryson said, not even trying to whisper anymore. “He’s that guy.”

(Y/N) cocked her head to the side a fraction. “You mean the guy who the US government exonerated for any and all crimes he may have committed as The Winter Soldier? You mean that guy?” (Y/N) deadpanned, uncrossing her arms. Bryson stared at her blankly.

“What about the guy who got drafted into a war unwillingly?” (Y/N) continued. “Or the one captured by the enemy and experimented on against his will?” Her hands curled into fists as the tension in her body rose. Bryson’s eye contact suddenly became very jumpy, unable to focus on her now and for a good reason.

“How about the guy who fell from a train- survived- and had his arm barbarically amputated?”

Bucky watched (Y/N)’s hands tighten further, blanching her knuckles of any color. He shuffled forward, ready to jump in if need be. Although, she was doing a good job holding her own.

“Don’t forget about that one guy who was tortured and abused, brainwashed, and forced to commit unspeakable atrocities for over seventy years, all in the name of a cult,” (Y/N) stated, pressing her palms flat against the countertop and ducking her head, trying to catch Bryson’s eye. His face flushed visibly in embarrassment.

“In case you aren’t caught up on your current events, Bryson, that guy’s name is Bucky Barnes,” (Y/N) spit sardonically.

Bryson raised his eyes at this, and the look on his face darkened. “Regardless of whether he was brainwashed or not, he’s an Avenger,” Bryson sneered, his gaze sliding to Bucky. “And that makes him dangerous.”

What the hell was this guy’s problem? Bucky wondered, wanting to wipe the smirk off his smug face.

(Y/N) let out a humorless huff of a laugh. Her lips spread into a thin line. “No more dangerous than the possibility of being struck by lightning or getting hit by a subway train.”

Bucky chuckled inwardly as Bryson flexed his jaw in frustration. (Y/N) was really getting to him.

Bryson’s expression morphed into something more sinister. “I mean, are you really going to take the word of some ‘expert’ from a third-world country that he won’t turn into a murder-bot again?” The air-quotes in his tone punctuated the contempt he undeniably felt.

Anger blossomed in Bucky’s chest at the degrading mention of the Princess of Wakanda. He owed everything to Shuri. If it weren’t for her, he definitely wouldn’t be in New York right now but on the run again. Shuri saved his life.

Bucky took a step toward the counter, intending to do something, anything to shut this jackass up. Instead, (Y/N) placed a calming hand to his sternum, stopping him from doing anything rash. The look of disdain on Bryson’s face amplified the longer (Y/N)’s touch lingered on his body, and that was equally as satisfying as causing this prick bodily harm.

“While your concern is unwarranted,” (Y/N) assured, “it’s also unwanted. I’m perfectly capable of taking care of myself.”

She gazed up into Bucky’s blue eyes fondly; a charming smile curled at her lips. “Besides, I don’t think he’d hurt a fly now.”

“It’s your funeral,” Bryson mumbled under his breath. (Y/N) didn’t catch it, or she paid it no mind.

The affection Bucky felt for (Y/N) at that moment swelled exponentially. He was in love with her, he realized. It was no longer just a crush.

No one, other than Steve, had ever championed for him as openly or as forcefully as she had just then. The adoration accumulating in his heart felt like it would erupt at any minute. She made him want to believe in love again. She made him think he might be worthy of that love someday.

He’d have to find a way to earn it, somehow.

Staring into her beautiful face and seeing compassion and empathy made him want to press his lips to hers. He still couldn’t believe she’d found him on accident. It was all so serendipitous.

There was one crucial roadblock obstructing his path to happiness, though. One he couldn’t possibly ignore for much longer without consequences— figuring out how to tell (Y/N) he and James were the same. But how?

Until then, he’d enjoy the ride.

“Hey, Bryson,” (Y/N) vocalized, her timbre a saccharine sweet. “I’ll take a medium iced mocha with extra whip and a white chocolate raspberry scone as well.” She winked at Bucky.

A scoff came from low in the pastry case causing Bucky and (Y/N) to titter in laughter.

“Wow. That was-” Bucky started, trying to find the words to explain how her coming to his defense made him feel.

(Y/N)’s pupils dilated, the gravity of the situation sinking in. “Oh, my God!” she said in a near panic. “I’m so sorry!”

Bucky smiled at her warmly. “There’s nothing to be sorry for.” He brushed a stray hair from her cheek delicately, his fingers dallying along the soft skin. The palm of his hand settled just below her ear, on the side of her neck. His thumb bobbed up and down with every clench and unclenching of her jaw.

“You must be so sick of hearing the same argument over and over again. People deciding your guilt or innocence based on first glances,” (Y/N) murmured, finally dropping her hand from his chest.

Bucky wondered if she could feel the pounding of his heart through all the layers of clothes he was wearing. “It’s nice to have a cheerleader, for once,” he answered honestly.

The corner of (Y/N)’s mouth quirked up. “I’ll always be in your corner, Bucky.”

His stomach dipped at her words’ implications. He whole-heartedly believed she would. “Thank you.”

(Y/N) shrugged in response. Over her bouncing shoulder, Bucky caught a glimpse of Bryson scowling at the two of them from his spot at the espresso machine. Bile churned in his belly. Bryson was turning into a nuisance, like a mosquito at a summer barbeque.

Bucky brought the hand at (Y/N)’s neck down to her upper arm and rubbed it gently. “Why don’t you find us a seat. I’ll finish up here,” he said, giving her a lopsided grin. She returned the gesture and nodded her head in acquiescence, sweeping past him.

Bucky followed her movements through the coffeehouse as she picked a cushioned bistro set positioned near the front windows. The waning light of the day cascaded through the clear glass, highlighting her delicate, feminine features. She was breathtaking.

Turning to face the dreadful barista, the grin on Bucky’s lips faded into a frown.

Bryson set their order down roughly on the register counter and proceeded to punch in the items on the touchscreen. He remained silent, mulishly waiting for payment. The death glare he wore seemed to be permanently etched into his features now.

Bucky could tell he was seething; the vein in his forehead throbbed with every beat of his pulse. Instead of engaging, though, Bucky smirked and slid a twenty-dollar bill toward the other man.

Bryson angrily scooped up the money. He bent his head closer to Bucky, gnashing his teeth. “If you hurt a single hair on her head, I will burn you to the ground,” he taunted, reaching into the till for change and tossing it on the counter.

Bucky’s expression never faltered. His exterior remained composed, cool as a cucumber. Inside, he raged like a bull seeing the color red. He wanted nothing more than to mop the floor with this asshole’s face. Alternatively, he gathered the littered change and dumped it all into the tip jar sitting beside the register. He stared Bryson dead in the face, a ghost of a smile still clinging to his mouth. “And if I ever hear of you treating (Y/N) with the blatant disrespect you showed her today…” Bucky paused, his voice calm and controlled. He leaned forward, pushing in closer to Bryson’s ear. “They’ll never find your body.”

The joy he felt coursing through his body as Bryson’s eyes stretched to the size of saucers and his Adam’s apple wobbled as he gulped in fear was indescribable.

Bucky gathered their drinks and pastries, pivoting towards the table where (Y/N) sat. He shouted over his shoulder as he walked away, “Have a good day, Bryson!”

Chapter Six (Part 2) | Chapter Eight

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#bucky barnes #bucky barnes x reader #bucky barnes x you #bucky barnes x y/n #bucky x reader #bucky x you #bucky x y/n #bucky barnes fanfiction #bucky barnes fanfic #bucky fanfiction #bucky fanfic #drunk texting is(n't) bad for your health #dtibfyh #shannon writes

[falsegoodnight]

these are the fics I read or reread and enjoyed this month! like last time, i’m separating it into different sections: main list, podfics, wips, and non-1d. rereads will be included in the main list and marked with *.

*note: this list encompasses the fics i’ve read from the 1st to the 25th and any fics read after will be included in next month’s fic rec list because otherwise this is going to be obnoxiously long. 

—

main list ~

✰ black cherries and chocolate by @harryanthus​ | NR | 666 (intense and jarring in the best way. this leaves you with that heart-racing feeling and panic crawling up your throat)

There is something or well, someone in the walls.

✰ keep secrets just to keep you by @hadestyles​ | T | 1k (loved this so much!! and need 1000000 more royalty abos from rori immediately)

“With the elements as my witness, I take you to be my husband. My heartbeat begins with you and ends with you, Louis Tomlinson.” Louis sinks to his knees as well, salty tears mixing with the pure rainwater. “And I take you as mine. My heart beats for you and with you.”

✰ bitter coffee and sweet love by @dontfuckwithmyotp​ | G | 1k (so cute and sweet!! proud of you ari for getting your first fic out and excited to see what you do next!)

“Hello! Welcome to The Busy Bean! Are you new?” Louis blinked in surprise at the voice and looked around to find the source. “Behind you,” The person tapped his shoulder once and he whirled around at the unexpected touch.

“Hey! Didn’t anyone ever tell you not to interrupt a person—” His rant stopped when he finally faced them. It was a guy—Harry Styles, according to his small black name tag. His eyes widened in embarrassment.

✰ turn your mic off, baby by @vogueharrystan​ | E | 2k (i love when lilli writes harry’s pov. this was so hot!)

Louis walks around the house naked all day and ignores Harry to play video games instead. Harry gets tired of it.

✰ This Could Be Love by mulletharry | G | 2k (such a cute and perfect little valentine’s day fic! put the biggest smile on my face <3)

Harry and Louis have been together for four months. They spend their first Valentine’s Day together.

✰ you appear as my soul by @hadestyles​​ | T | 2k (so gorgeous and raw)

He aches — not as much as Louis, he could never imagine all that he bears quietly — and as cruel as it sounds, it keeps reminding him of how fragile they are.

✰ the energy from your body by sweetielouis | E | 3k (hilarious, hot, and cute!)

Harry and his friends have a popular podcast, for the Valentines Day special they get a bit drunk and talk a bit too comfortably about their friends arses.

It's a good thing Louis doesn't mind it all that much. 

✰ look how i remember by @harryanthus​ | M | 4k (this left me speechless and aching)

He hates it, he wants to scream and tell Harry as much. Kiss me like you mean it. Kiss me as if we are in love. Kiss me like you will never do it again. Kiss me with so much hatred that it turns back to love.

✰ Things Unsaid by @londonfoginacup​ | G | 5k (so so cute and funny!!)

"That chunky oversized sweater is like a clown outfit made for winter."

It feels like time slows down.

Those words echo in his mind, familiar. Why are they familiar? The— the sweater he saw last week. The one with all the knit squares.

The train slows to a stop and Louis just— he doesn’t move. He feels frozen in place as people surge around him. Suddenly everyone is moving too fast and then just as suddenly the car is near empty, taking off again.

The man is gone.

His soulmate is gone.

✰ reckless serenade by @thepolourryexpress​ | E | 4k (adorable and funny and amazing!)

Harry's Google search history may or may not look like 'my girlfriend doesn't know we're dating.'

✰ dancing in the moonlight by @outropeace​ | E | 5k (need 100k more of this immediately, thanks. so wonderful)

Louis’ fuck buddy gets a date for Valentine’s day and he discovers that denial isn’t just a river in Egypt.

✰ The truth is, the stars are falling by larrysbeanies | E | 5k (hot!!! walking-in trope that i love so much)

Harry knows Louis is gay. Hell, he came out to Harry exactly two months ago (when the dreadful dry spell started) because it was becoming increasingly hard to hide the fact that his one night stands were men. And, you know, they’re best friends so there aren’t supposed to be secrets and all that.

Thing is, Louis told Harry he’s gay ergo, Harry is aware that Louis likes men. Why the fuck did he act so normal while fingering him three days ago, then? Is this something straight guys do to their gay best friends in Harry’s world?

Louis would really like to know.

✰ to be used and to be in love by @thelesserneptune​ | E | 5k (blessed that this is a series. really hot and cute!)

Louis doesn't know why his filthy best friend turned into a vanilla boyfriend and thinks of the perfect birthday present to solve that problem.

✰ on the borderline by @princelouisau​ | E | 8k (the way danielle writes... poetry. this broke me down and then stitched me back up <3)

Louis makes his choice.

✰ One Step Closer by agrinwithouthiscat | G | 12k (reading asexual hl fics is instant comfort and this was lovely)

The one fake relationship AU where they don't end up together.

✰ i glow pink in the night by @raspberryoatss​ | E | 12k (hybrid louis perfection, beautiful writing, characters, and story as always!)

Harry reads a lot of articles about hybrids and Louis is determined to prove them wrong.

✰ The Thinker of Tender Thoughts by @speakingwithink | G | 13k (asexual hl again! this one made me cry) 

Louis sits on his hands to stop them from shaking as he adds, ‘and I’m ace.’ If only he had glitter, he thinks. Coming out deserves a bit of sparkle.

✰ Kiss Me Once, Kiss Me Twice by @harriblou​ | M | 13k (enemies with benefits to lovers goodness! so hot and entertaining)

“You’re a fucking brat, you know that,” Harry muttered through clenched teeth, bones already burning with the pure desire and hatred mixing in his body. It was an intoxicating rush of adrenaline and something else that probably came with fucking Louis Tomlinson. He squeezed his neck just a little tighter. “I can’t stand it.”

Their lips were brushing against each other, just moving with the ragged movements of their mouths and harsh breathing.

“You’re a lying piece of shit dickhead,” Louis muttered right back. That was all he did, challenge and nag. He loved to have the last word and Harry let him because he used all his energy to fuck him mindless.

✰ hold onto your stars by vashtaneradas | NR | 16k (this writer’s atmosphere/prose draws me in every time. such a lovely story)

Harry's in the army, Louis' back home, and ninety days is a lifetime.

✰ The Future is Now by @jacaranda-bloom​ | E | 16k (love fics in this five times format and this one was so unique and cool!! and the friends to lovers aspect = chef’s kiss)

Five times Louis follows the fortunes to seek out his true love, and the one time he realises that what he's been searching for might've been right in front of him the whole time.

✰ Visceral Heat & Carnal Highs by @theisolatedlily​ | E | 18k (the prose in this... gorgeous. so fucking good and addicting. delighted that there’s going to be a sequel and excited for whatever lily does next!)

Louis is a demon at a house party prowling for a meal, indulging in horrendous sins to satisfy his hunger. Harry is the talk of the night, beckoning all eyes on him and the reason why Louis’s plan goes awry.

✰ deFENCEless by @solvetheminourdreams​ | T | 27k (this was so cute and so funny and i had the biggest smile on my face the entire time. not surprised since stef always evokes that in me with her writing)

When Louis butts heads with his new neighbor who loves to garden a little too much, all he can do to protect his yard (and heart), is keep on building up his fence(s).

✰ darling, you give love a bad name by snowcaplou | M | 29k (been waiting for this one since summer and i wasn’t disappointed! so wonderful and real!)

Louis’ has been best friends with Gemma all his life in this stupid little town he’s grown to hate. What happens when, after one night together with his best friend’s brother, he falls pregnant? Surrounded by small minds and conservative cultures, Louis has to deal with parents that demand they do the “right” thing. Get married before anybody finds out.

✰ The Haunting of Louis Tomlinson* by @helloamhere​ | T | 31k (will never not be an all-time favorite. louis’ character is my absolute favorite - gothic heroine indeed - and harry is the best dramatic gay ghost ever <3)

Louis is a plucky Gothic Heroine, Harry is a Mournful Spirit, and Big Country Houses are full of mystery and suspense, as Big Country Houses ever are!

✰ begged and borrowed time by @bottomlwt​ | M | 40k (this concept was so unique and so cool!! loved the medieval setting and the time travel and how everything fit together in the end!!)

“It wasn’t until 1568 that it became time for Prince Harry to find a queen and prepare to rule. However, the day he was set to choose his bride-to-be, he mysteriously disappeared, never to be seen again despite the multiple search parties that went on through the years. To this day, historians still do not know what happened with the infamous Prince Styles case..."

✰ Lidocaine and Palm Trees.* by @daddyharrie​ | E | 45k (definition of ris comfort read - on nth reread and still love it wholly. makes me miss la which is an astonishing feat in itself) 

Heat, fake tans and lots of traffic.

Harry never expected to earn his living this way when he moved to LA.

Louis didn't think he could ever be the same after his divorce.

A lighthearted story about two guys trying to find themselves in the vibrant, sprawling city of Los Angeles, with a side of technical porn industry stuff.

✰ haunted by the ghost of you* by @missandrogyny​ | E | 49k (perhaps my favorite fic of all time? the humor, the characters, the angst?!?! all the britney spears!! and pink ouija boards and wikihow!!)

He’s tall—that’s the first thing that registers in Louis’ head when he spots him, standing with his hands behind his back. Tall, with curly hair, staring at them with the widest, greenest eyes Louis has ever seen. And wait, are those dimples? Louis didn’t know ghosts could have dimples.

Because he’s definitely a ghost, this boy. At first glance he looks normal, standing there pigeon-toed in a band shirt (The Ramones, Louis can’t help but note incredulously), dark jeans, and some boots, with rings on both hands, and tattoos littering his left arm—a sleeve made of anchors and names and roses and other completely unrelated things. But he’s also a little bit translucent; if Louis focuses, he can see the outline of the furniture, the design of the wallpaper through him.

“Hi,” the boy—the ghost—says to Louis. His face shifts; somehow his dimples dig deeper into his cheeks. His eyes flit from Louis, to Niall, to Liam, and finally to Zayn, and his face goes from shocked to elated. “I’m Harry.”

At in that exact moment, standing between three of his best friends and staring at a (quite handsome) ghost, Louis can only think one thing.

Nick Grimshaw was right.

✰ like real people do by @eeveelou​ | E | 64k (this was... so amazing. the characters were so wonderfully written and so was the journey of healing and growth that louis undertakes over the story :’) loved the contrast between l and h’s lives and how they fit into each other still so perfectly)

Jessica Jones AU in which the dead stay where they belong, featuring Zayn as the high-powered lawyer with a hopeless crush on his assistant Liam, Niall as the constantly stoned but strangely insightful neighbor, Harry as Manhattan’s media darling, and Louis as the never-was hero who’s just trying to pick up the pieces.

✰ Black With Autumn Rain by whimsicule | T | 93k (i actually can’t remember if i’ve read this before??? either way - it was wonderful! loved the setting and atmosphere and the supernatural elements! i was so intrigued from the first sentence onwards)

Harry is a journalist, Louis has lots of secrets and the moors aren’t exactly the ideal place to rekindle a lost romance.

podfics ~

✰ tall stories on the page by @soldouthaz​ & read by @softlouislove​ | T (hannah’s voice is so lovely and perfect for reading aloud - and ofc the fic itself is amazing)

Harry's tired of being interviewed by people that only care about the same pointless gossip. Louis is a nice change of pace. 

wips ~

✰ Truth Behind Golden Eyes by @lwtisloved​ | E | 60k | 6/16 (just caught up fully today but i’m really enjoying everything! this is everything i’ve ever wanted in a fantasy fic)

Louis is a royal servant born with magic in a kingdom where his sole existence is outlawed with a war he has no idea he has a part in upon him. Harry is the prince on whom the burden of mending a broken kingdom falls upon and he might be willing to risk it all for a simple servant if only he admitted it to himself.

✰ ‘cause all our tomorrows lead the way by @loubellies​ | E | 39k | 3/10 (having a blast reading this one!! i’ve never seen the bachelor in my life but in fic-format, it’s so fun!)

So maybe Louis’ in over his head.

He had signed up for the Bachelor on a whim after his second bottle of wine and well, here he is. He’s just been announced as the twenty-sixth Bachelor and his ass is sweating. Like, literally sweating. He’s positive that if he was to turn around, the entirety of Bachelor Nation would get a nice peek of his ass sweat.

✰ The Night Still Whispers Sins of Old by @toomanydreamers​ | E | 6k | 2/? (loving this so much, as expected. can’t wait to see how everything unfolds)

Two and a half years have passed since the fateful day when Louis and Harry were crowned Triwizard champions. Confronted with misunderstandings, wounded pride and heartache, Louis stumbled away from the possibility of a future relationship with Harry. Instead, he buried himself into relentless work as a junior Auror and refused to let himself be vulnerable with another person. Circumstances change that force Louis to confront his feelings - and Harry. Stolen glances, picnics at sunrise, thrilling adventures, original spellwork, midnight feasts, soft lips and cautious second chances culminate in an unforgettable mission - but will it be enough to mend their relationship?

non-1d ~

✰ like a bullet needs a gun by @millsxwriting​ | T | 21k | wilds au (despite me having no context, mills still got me to fall in love with toni and shelby. this was so cute and lovely!!)

Toni doesn’t expect to fall for anyone in her senior year. Least of all for Shelby Goodkind, the new girl that arrived in town just before the end of summer. In fact, Toni can’t even look at her for longer than two seconds, or listen to more than three sentences coming out of her mouth without wanting to accidentally push her off a cliff. 

Cue a group project and endless bickering, and suddenly Toni finds herself with an unbearable crush.

If you read any of these beautiful works of art, remember to leave kudos and comment to show your appreciation!

*if i made any errors, please let me know :)

enjoy!

#fic recs #my fic recs #28th appreciation #february recs #2021 recs #february 2021 recs #scheduled

[aggressive-positivity-network]

Hello! I was wondering if I could get some childhood headcanons for the mercs, thank you!

I’m taking a break from the longer headcanons - I’m finishing all my existing requests before opening up my headcanons back up - so I’ll do this one to get the gears turning. There are two here, but I will do more if prompted:

TF2 Merc Childhood Headcanons

Spy:

Spy was a shy child. Painfully shy.

His family was poor, so he had to steal most necessities. By the time he was twelve, he could hop or climb over most fences and hide in most buildings.

The entire reason he became a spy was seeing poorly translated VHS tapes of American espionage films. Spy was frustrated that he never looked the part - he had no suit, no cigarette, no girls.

But, not to worry, he would get all of those things when he went to Britain for schooling.

As a child, though, all he could do was pretend.

He had a “gun” made out of sticks and rope, mimed having a tie, hat, and overcoat, and drew a few shaky feminine features onto a pillow (whom he dubbed Mademoiselle Coussin).

This change in play actually helped him socially: whenever he felt nervous, he would just pretend he was a spy instead of a petite, messy-haired boy with freckles. This caused his popularity among the street boys to spike, and they were soon at his beck and call.

However, despite his fulfilling life as a street rat, he turned back into that timid mouse of a boy whenever he was home. He never dared use his charm on his parents. He already caught a flogging when he tried slicking his hair back.

This led to an odd, one-sided relationship with life where he put on two different masks for two different places, but could only be his true self when he was alone.

He learned to stifle and release emotions at will (keeping himself from crying when he was hit and then letting the tears flow when he was fooling unsuspecting tourists), and was cynical about any relationship that didn’t benefit him immediately or at all.

Except for one.

Every Christmas, a specific fruit vendor, an elderly man named Lucas, came to town. He would give one piece of fruit, usually an apple or peach, to every child that came to his stand. They never had to pay - they only had to say Merry Christmas.

Spy only hung around the stand for the first few years - his house was so far away that by the time he got there, most of the fruit was gone - but one Christmas, Lucas beckoned him over.

The vendor reached beneath his cart and pulled out a single orange, which happened to be Spy’s favorite.

“Joyeux Noël.”

“J-joyeux Noël, monsieur.”

Lucas held out the orange, which Spy accepted gratefully and held in two tight hands.

“Merci beaucoup, monsieur! Merci, merci!”

Lucas only smiled and waved his hand.

This became a tradition for many more years.

Spy would come to the cart, wish Lucas a warm holiday, and would receive an orange that had been saved for him.

But, one Christmas, Lucas didn’t come. Nor the next one. Or the one after that.

Even though Spy knew he was never going to get an orange from that cart again, he still went to that street every Christmas until he left France.

Now, whenever Spy receives an orange, either as a mandated vitamin supplement or if he happens to steal one from a witness’s house, he puts it in his suit, only eating it in his smoke room.

And if he is feeling particularly nostalgic, he’ll, just like he did when he was a child, eat the peel.

Heavy:

Heavy had a wonderful childhood compared to most of mercs.

His father was only vaguely present - and later absent - but his mother was a huge force in his life.

Though Heavy was never bullied exactly, since he was big even as a child, he was ostracized for his size and general clumsiness.

He often broke things, hurt other kids and even staff, and put holes in the wall simply because he was a pre-schooler in an elementary schooler sized body.

But, no matter how many calls she got from the school, Heavy’s mom knew that he wasn’t violent - all she asked was for him to try and fix what he had broken and apologize to the people he had hurt.

“My child, a bear may be big, but they are strong and beautiful. So are you.”

One day, after a particularly rough week of shattered vases and bruised classmates, Heavy ran from school into a random building, blinded by tears and shame. He ended up ticketless in a large theater, but he was only a child, so no one noticed. They assumed he was just someone’s kid.

He ended up on the roof, breathless and gasping between sobs.

Suddenly, he heard an orchestra beginning to play. He looked through a glass pane built into the roof and gazed at the stage below.

He saw one petite ballerina making her way across the stage, doing a few twirls as she went. Then, a much bigger man, who was almost as big as Heavy’s father was, came from stage right and joined in the dance.

Throughout their performance, Heavy kept wincing, expecting the enormous man to crush the small woman. But he never did. The performer moved with grace and a quickness that the boy didn’t expect.

Something awakened in him - a realization that he too could be nimble, despite his size. As the performance ended, Heavy went back down the stairs, his confidence renewed.

He became fascinated with ballet, and watched tapes of shows over and over again until he knew all the steps by heart. At first, he only moved his feet so his arms wouldn’t break anything. Then, as he grew more controlled, he learned how to dance and step around things.

His mother got less calls home, more and more kids began to trust and like him.

He still wasn’t popular by any means, but at least he could play soccer without breaking someone’s arm.

With that success came interests in all things quick, dainty, and detailed. Heavy learned how to knit, paint, and play a bit of piano. He was never very skilled at any of them except for knitting, he enjoyed practicing his coordination and mitigating his clumsiness.

But, one day, Heavy made the mistake of bringing his knitting to school. It was around Christmas, and he had to finish his sister’s sweater so he could wrap it.

The boys, who now knew that Heavy wouldn’t hurt a fly, started teasing him mercilessly, calling him a sow (female pig), a bitch, an old crone, and all sorts of other nasty names.

Heavy, with growing frustration, said something along the lines of, “Will it be your dead mother, then, who will mend your shirt when you are old? Or will you willingly catch your death?”

What Heavy didn’t know was that one particular child’s mother died a few months ago.

The boy went into a rage, giving Heavy a black eye and a bleeding nose before he finally took him by the underarms and held him away from him like a rabid chihuahua. Finally, the boy tired himself out. The other kids had since run away, not wanting to get in trouble or get beat up by Heavy.

The bully, after finding that he was helpless to the situation, began to cry, letting out all the emotions he had been shoving down in order to save face in front of his abusive father.

Heavy went straight into protective mode, having dealt with his younger sisters and their own grievances. After the bully calmed down a bit, he admitted his feelings, and how awful his circumstances were.

Heavy didn’t say anything much, but just handed him a pair of knitting needles and a ball of yarn. The boy learned to knit that day, and after Christmas, many other abused boys came seeking the same kind of closure and validation.

He made many friends this way, and it pretty much eradicated his bullying problem - so much so that he was pretty much untouchable to anyone looking to make trouble.

Though violence is how Heavy makes his money now, the merc learned from the very beginning that the best way through life is a gentle touch.

#tf2 #tf2 fandom #tf2 headcanons #tf2 headcanon #tf2 spy #tf2 heavy #tf2 mercs #ask blog #send asks #send anons #humor #funny post #just for laughs #funny content #funny