#this fic is hitting the pavement for everyone asking | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

ihavethedreamies · 6 days

Text

First Kisses | NCT Dream

NCT Dream - All Members

Rating: E for Everyone

Word Count: About 300 for each, so about 2k total

Pairing: NCT Dream x GN!Reader (Separate)

Genre: Reader-Insert, Drabble, Fluff

Summary: Your first kiss with each member of NCT Dream!

Author's Note: I have never wrote drabble-length things before, so I am proud of myself I kept these so short.

I tried to keep these gender-neutral, so let me know if I didn't, but it might still be slightly implied in these the reader is AFAB, I don't think so though…

PS. Mark's and Haechan's are different from the ones for 127…

-> NCT 127 <-

-> WayV <-

I am cross-posting this on Archive. Please reblog! If you know anyone that would like this or future fics but they aren't on here my name and icon are exactly the same on the other site. Happy reading!

Mark

"You like someone?!" Mark's voice was way too loud, so you shushed him harshly, pressing on his shoulder to get him to sit back down. Luckily, the fast-food joint had very few people in it, but it just made his shout all the more obvious. "Shush!" You sighed, resting your forehead in your hand. "Yes." "Who?" He didn't sound curious, but it was hard to pinpoint his tone. "Why do you care?" It was him, but you couldn't just announce it right then. He had ruined the mood, plus it was not the place for a confession. "Is it Jeno?" "No." "Jaemin?" "No." "Donghyuck?!" He sounded mad and you looked around, shushing him again. "No! It's not any of our friends." You hoped that your vague answer was enough. "Who is it? What if he doesn't deserve you!?" "It's you, dumbass!" You had hoped to be sweeter about the confession, but your voice was laced with irritation. His upset facial expression fell, red slowly deepening on his face and the tips of his ears. Rubbing your temple, you nodded apologetically to the older couple nearest your table. "It's me?" "Yes." You brushed it off, continuing a normal conversation, changing the subject. He was only kind of listening; you could see his brain going into overdrive. He finally mentioned it again as you left the place. You were walking down the street, past an empty playground. His hand grabbed yours, spinning you to him. Mark's lips pressed to yours, soft at first, then he deepened it with a groan. When he pulled back, he smirked then as the tables had turned, your face red. "I like you too."

Renjun

He shoved past people, nearly knocking someone over as he fought through the crowd. He wished he wasn't so damn short, weaving through people looking for you. The crowd had formed around the bus, the big vehicle lying on its side, windows cracked and broken. The utility truck that had smashed into it had then hit a pole, smoke rising out of the front. That was the bus you were normally on; he knew it because he had been waiting for you to get off. The bus was so close to the stop down the road that he saw the accident, then ran to the scene. "Watch it!" Someone snapped as he shoved again, still looking for you. "Renjun?" His heart leaped when he heard you, turning around quickly to see you standing on the edge of the crowd. Your phone was in your hand, and you were taking one of your ear buds out. "(Y/N)!" He surged forward, shoving one more person so hard they stumbled, and before you could ask anything else, his arms were around you. You let out a soft, 'oof' your ear bud falling from your hand onto the pavement, luckily you held your phone firm. Renjun was breathing harshly, his cheek pressed to the side of your head, and you felt a tear that fell from his eye. "What happened?" You asked, looking at the bus crash. You were going to get on it like usual, but the bus was full, so you decided to walk instead. Renjun pulled back, his hands cupping your cheeks, turning your head to look over you. "Are you okay?" He was still breathing hard. "Yes? I walked…" You glanced back at the accident, but his hands still on your face, kept you from looking too well. Renjun sighed hard, and turned you back to look at him, capturing your next words with his lips. You squeaked in surprise, then melted into the kiss. It was desperate, not soft, and quick like you thought your first would be. When he finally pulled away, he pulled you back into a hug. Your mind reeled from the whirlwind of events, but you hugged him back, standing in his embrace so he could revel in the fact you weren't hurt.

Jeno

"Why are you looking at me like that?" Jeno had noticed your stare. You blinked to snap yourself out of it, eyes flitting away from his lips to meet his eyes. "What do you mean?" You hummed coyly, taking a sip of your drink. He scoffed playfully. "You've been ogling me more than usual today." He smirked and you glared insincerely. "I have no idea what you are going on about." You brushed it off and you two continued your meal. Dates between you two were not all that much different than when you two would hang out as friends, but there was a lot more flirting going on, of course. Casually drinking your iced coffee, you looked out the window, pretending to people watch. You were able to see his reflection in the glass. Jeno huffed amused, but let it go. As you were walking down the street, not heading anywhere in particular, his fingers linked around yours and you tried to keep your face neutral at the little act. When you two were walking past a park, he halted, his hand in yours pulling you to stop as well. Turning to look at him in question, he watched carefully as your eyes flitted over his face, lingering on his lips before going to his own. "You really want to kiss me that bad?" He smirked and your face turned red so fast he thought steam would come off of it. Were you that obvious? "W-what do you…" You swallowed and he stepped forward, so he was much closer. Glancing around, there was no one in sight, so he leaned in, lips pressing to the corner of your mouth. What a tease he was. You grunted, annoyed, and before he could fully laugh, your arms were around his neck. Jeno allowed you to haul him down to your level, lips sealing over his tightly. Since you were in public, he pulled back before the kiss could deepen further, tongue brushing your lower lip still. "Good?" He smirked. "Yes~"

Haechan

When you walked into the living room, you had not expected your roommate to be home, let alone spread like a starfish in the middle of the room. "Hyuck?" You questioned him and he gave an acknowledging grunt. "What are you doing?" "Contemplating life. Having an existential crisis." His tone was uncharacteristically flat, but it was clear he was being overdramatic. "Why?" You stopped next to him, and his gaze met yours, looking up at you like a kicked puppy. "You're going to the beach without me…" He pouted and you rolled your eyes. "Hyuck, it’s a family trip. Only family and significant others are going, not friends…" "I'm just a friend?!" He sat up quickly as you left his side, going to the kitchen. You wondered if he got a head rush. "You're my roommate, which is friend category." You jumped when you turned around, he was right there. "Freaking- what?!" You furrowed your brow along with him. "Can't I be a significant other?" His question further threw you off and you just gaped. "W-what?" "Take me as your boyfriend!" "But you're not my boyfriend!" "I am now!" He declared, his hand going to the back of your head, yanking you closer, kissing you to prevent any retort. After getting over the initial shock, you melted into the kiss, and followed after when he pulled back. "Yeah?" His stupid smirk made you want to smack him. "Fine…come as my boyfriend."

Jaemin

"Guess what?" His tone made you roll your eyes. He dropped his bag on the couch next to you and sneered up at him. "What?" You grimaced when he flopped down between you and his bag, sitting back confidently, ankle resting on his opposite knee. "I found out that someone likes me." "A lot of people like you, Jaemin. You have a mirror." You huffed, going back to your show, but he took the remote and paused it again. "I know who." "Yeah?" Your heart skipped; nervous he had figured you out. Hopefully, it was someone else, literally anyone else. Jaemin leaned it, his stupid smirk had evolved into the incredibly sexy one he knew just how to use. "It's you, (Y/N)." He chuckled and you tried to keep your face flat, but he saw your skin tinting pink, almost reddening. "W-who told you that?" "You did." "WHAT?!" You wondered what the hell he was talking about. You hadn't been drunk lately… "You read my letter to my mom!?" "I mean… It was just on the table…" "Ass-munch!" You lunged at him, tackling him back on the couch, landing on top of him. You grabbed the collar of his hoodie, hauling him up to glare at him. Instead of playing along with your fake aggression, he tilted his head, licking your lips. You dropped him, he bounced on the cushions, then he grabbed your waist, rolling forward so you were under him. His lips stopped your protest and you immediately melted, letting him kiss you. Jaemin pulled back, still with that stupid smirk. "You dick." You sneered, pulling him back down.

Chenle

After another extremely dramatic sigh from Chenle next to you, you stopped tying on your laptop, looking at him. "What now?" "I'm bored." He mumbled and you rolled your eyes. "Lele, we are going to be on this plane for another eight and a half hours, figure something out." You went back to typing and he groaned again. Luckily, he was filthy rich and so you both got to fly in the lap of luxury of first class. For the next fifteen minutes, you half-heartedly listen to him complain about this and that, before he stopped talking abruptly. Casting him a side glance to see what might have piqued his interest, he dug into his backpack, pulling a red box out. Pepero sticks. "What?" You had a feeling where he was going with it, your face a bit warm. He said nothing, for once, and tore the box open, pulling the chocolate covered biscuit stick out. He placed one end in his mouth, leaning closer, his implication clear. You huffed, closing your laptop, relenting. Maybe for once you could call his bluff. Sealing your lips around the other end, you both began to chew on it, lips getting closer and closer to each other. He still remained strong, so when there was barely any left between you, you sealed the deal. Your lips hit it, the rest of the candy entering your mouth. Though, when you went to pull back, he grunted, hand flying to the back of your head, bringing you back to him, kissing you harder. When he let you go, he laughed at your red face. You cursed him out under your breath, and he laughed harder.

Jisung

You were starting to ramble, panicking at his reaction. When you let it slip out of your mouth, you hadn't even registered, you had confessed. The tone was casual, so much so, he almost didn't catch your meaning. You told him that when a classmate had asked you for his contact, you told her no. You added that you two were more than friends to get her off the topic. This, however, was NOT true. When he asked why you did that, your reply was simple, "Cause you're mine-" He halted his stride and that made you stop too. That's when you started spewing out words, face hot, stomach flipping. So focused on finding the right explanation, you didn't notice Jisung move closer. By the time your eyes met, his big hands cradled your jaw and his lips softly met yours. He swallowed your gasp, pressing closer, his nerves quickly fading. Once you were over the initial shock, you kissed back, your own hands gripping the fabric of his sweatshirt over his ribs. Finally pulling away from each other, you both smiled bashfully, but didn't step away. Jisung even still had his hands on your jaw, thumb stroking the soft, flushed skin of your cheek. "If I'm yours, does that mean you're mine too?" His shyness was growing back at his own words. You blinked, then giggled, fingers messing with his hoodie zipper. "I'm yours, Jisung." Your smile grew when he leaned back in, lips ghosting over yours when he replied. "Let's be each other's then."

-> NCT 127 <-

-> WayV <-

Masterlist

111 notes · View notes

lovelettersforthedamned · 3 months

Note

I just read this and 🥹🥹

https://www.tumblr.com/lovelettersforthedamned/736383346194694144/okay-this-request-might-be-a-little-specific-and

Could you do a part two?? Where Peter finally knows from her telling him because he’s still worried something is wrong between?

The Parkers

--genre: FLUFF, slight angst

--pairing: husband!tasm!peter parker x pregnant!wife!reader

--word count: 0.9k

--warnings: language, reader is pregnant, anxiety, one mention of nausea, FLUFF, peter loves his wife and her overthinking so much.

lowkey was waiting for someone to ask for a part two because i love this fic so much...

It was half past nine when you and Peter decided to head back home. The party was winding down, and after a cleaning up, May seemed like she was ready to hit the hay as well. With one last hug for everyone left in the living room, Peter leads you out the front door.

As soon as the two of you stepped into the night, a shiver ran up both of your spines. A quick glance at each other signaled that it was absolutely freezing. Peter immediately pulls you into his side and starts to rub his hand along your arm at a fast pace, a simple attempt at trying to warm you up. You giggle at his action, looking up at him and his now rosy cheeks, admiring your husband.

You must have not noticed how long you were silent, Peter broke it, “You sure you’re alright, bug?” Peter still thinks that there’s something wrong between the two of you. The thought was eating him alive as you’ve been silent the entire walk home.

Your body tenses at his question, and with you still pulled into his side, he felt it too. May’s get-together was a good distraction from the very real situation you’ve found yourself in, and Peter's question brought back all the anxiety you felt earlier today. The hairs on his arms raised at the sudden nervousness radiating off of you. Even though your anxiety is urging him to speak, he allows you the time to respond. “Oh–um…Yeah, everything’s alright. I just need to talk to you about something,” your voice wavering, didn’t help either your or Peter’s feelings right now.

Peter clears his throat, “Yeah, what’s going on?”

All of a sudden, you feel hot. Even a thin sheen of sweat appears on your brow, but the last thing you want is for Peter to let go of you. Your pace slows as you muster up the courage to tell him about everything, the test, the nausea, the conversation with Miriam, all of it. “Peter, I-I’m,” you take a sharp and deep breath, not daring to look anywhere but the pavement, “I’m pregnant.”

And still, with the words leaving the tightness of your throat, you still don’t feel any better. As you wait for any sort of response from Peter, you feel worse.

You finally pry your eyes away from the gray cement and to the warm brown eyes of your husband. You two look at each other for a prolonged moment. You’re so nervous, but you can’t bear to pull yourself out of the trance of Peter’s eyes.

You sigh, as you begin to speak, more like ramble, again, “Fuck, I know I should have told you as soon as I found out this morning, but I was, still am, nervous. And I also know I have no reason to be nervous, especially around you, but everything about this scares the shit out of me, but it also makes me so excited? I just have a lot of emotions right now, and I don’t know how to–.”

You're quickly enveloped in a bone-crushing hug, Peter rocking you two back and forth. He lets go of you as he brings both of his hands up to your face, “I’m gonna be a dad?”

His entire reaction throws you off guard as you look at his features, “Uh…yeah, Pete. You’re gonna be a dad.”

A little giggle leaves his mouth before he leans his head down to kiss you softly, but passionately. The tenseness in your shoulders dissolves as you kiss him back. You two probably look crazy to others walking or driving down the street, but neither of you cared for them.

With one last peck, Peter pulls away from your lips with a wide smile on his face. He brushes a stray hair that fell into your face behind your ear as his eyebrows furrow, “Why were you so nervous baby?”

“I don’t know,” you start, “I know that we’ve talked about kids before, but now, it’s real and I didn’t know how you were going to react.”

“Oh, bug. I will always stand by you and with you through whatever life throws at us. This is pretty big, but I fully believe that you’re capable of amazing things like being a mother, and with me, raising a family. I love you so so much (Y/N). Forever and ever.”

Peter always can bring a tear to your eye just off the way he loves you. You never knew how much you could love someone until you met Peter, and you were silly for ever thinking that his love for you would dull due to something like this.

“You know, Miriam caught onto me earlier today?”

He leads you into a casual stroll as he recoils in disbelief, “No way. You just found out, how could she know?”

You shrug, “Said she could ‘see it in my face’.”

Peter laughs, grabbing ahold of your hand, and giving it a soft squeeze, “Maybe she’s magic…You know, May said that she once knew if her patient’s baby was a boy or a girl. And she was right.”

“Well,” you look at your husband, “we know who we need to go to when one of us wants to buy a lottery ticket!”

--author's note: EEEKKK!!! YAY A PART TWOOOO!!!!! peter loves reader so much omg its sickening. i need to write dad!peter more bc damn, i need him. be sure to like, comment, and reblog if you love what you see. my asks/inbox is open to send requests!!! ok, bye ily<3333

#peter parker x reader #andrew garfield peter parker #fluff #marvel #tasm!peter x reader #tasm!peter parker #peter parker #spiderman #tasm!peter x you #tasm!peter parker fluff

158 notes · View notes

fandomnsfw · 11 months

Text

Th Sergeant’s Admirer - Bucky Barnes x Reader

Pairing: Bucky Barnes x Reader

Prompt: I actually had writers block and decided to look through some unfinished stuff and came across this it started at 1k words and I decided to see where my idea's took me...It got out of hand. This is the biggest one-shot I've actually ever done. its over 7k and its my first Bucky fic I'm excited to hear every ones thoughts. (if you don't like don't read)

Warnings: Smut, there fluff lots of it, I have a minor fetish or kink for like Bucky's arm so that may leak in this story. (oops)

Description: You’re a sci-fi writer who happens to support Sergeant Barnes rather publicly in an interview for your latest book, which somehow ends with you being asked to help boost the Sergeants PR.

Thank you to my beta who gave this a quick edit last night @lets-imagine-fanfics

*******

“So, Y/N, as a successful writer of a sci-fi book series everyone is wondering who is your favourite Avenger?” The interviewer asked with a bright white smile that was beyond fake in your eyes.

“That depends on what reason? I mean I know everyone wants me to say Captain America because the hero of my book is noble and righteous much like our good Captain, but to be honest; I most admire Sergeant Barnes.” You replied easily clearly shocking the interviewer as her jaw dropped immediately.

“You mean The Winter Solider?” The interviewer asked sceptically.

“No, HYDRA created The Winter Solider by torturing a good man that fought for this country over 70 years ago. The man who now helps the Avengers and their cause is not the assassin they created but the Sergeant finally getting his life back and once again serving his country despite having every right to retire and live a normal life.” You answered easily, your smile finally real as you spoke passionately about your beliefs on the subject.

“So, you believe that the Sergeant shouldn’t be treated like a terrorist and a killer despite his wrongdoings?” The interviewer sassed back making your face drop instantly.

“I’m sorry…so if Miss Wanda Maximoff came in here and made you kill everyone in this room…would you think it fair to get charged for the murders?” You asked causing her to splutter.

“I think this interview is over and I don’t think I will be taking any more interviews from this station. Oh, one more thing…” You started before staring into the camera.

“Sergeant Barnes, if you are watching this, thank you for your service.” You spoke sweetly into the camera making everyone chuckle under their breaths before you took your exit out of the studio, your manager following you with a panicked expression.

As you stepped outside of the building, your manager tried to keep the paparazzi away but pictures were still being taken and their questions were relentless, so you decided to answer some of their inquiries. Holding your hand up they easily quietened down but continued to take pictures.

“Miss Y/L/N, is it true that your favourite avenger is Mr Barnes or was it a publicity stunt?” You shot the person a glare before crossing your arms.

“No, I truly admire Mr Barnes.” You answered with gritted teeth.

“Do you know Mr Barnes personally?” Someone asked in the back.

“No, but I would absolutely love to meet him one day.” You replied with a happy nod and as you did your manager started tugging on your jacket with wide eyes.

As her words flowed into your ear your jaw hit the floor and everyone started screaming questions again, but you couldn’t breathe, everything you had just said was being watched live from a few News stations and Captain America had seen it all.

“That’s the end of the questions today, thank you so much for your patience’s and thank you to my fans who never stop giving.” You muttered robotically as your manager dragged you away from the crowd straight into a black car that was waiting next to the pavement.

As the car drove, you stared at the floor wishing you knew how this had happened but you knew how… you were the only person to ever speak up about the hardships and horrors Mr Barnes must’ve been through… however you never expected to get so much from it, you had just wanted to share your opinion.

“We’re here, Miss Y/L/N.” The driver stated as you stared up at the Stark tower with wide eyes.

Everything from the entrance to the top floor was a blur, your mind couldn’t function knowing you were about to meet an Avenger. As you entered the room you saw three faces that looked familiar and four that didn’t, but you held your head high hoping your nerves weren’t obvious.

“Miss Y/L/N, thank you for meeting with us on such short notice.” The most famous man in America spoke, making your eyes widen comically.

“Well, when Captain America asks to meet you…you can hardly say no, Sir.” You chuckled nervously, tucking your hair behind your ear before straightening out your dress.

“Please call me Steve. I asked to meet you to thank you for what you said about Bucky in your interview today. You’re the first person I have seen speak about him with such admiration.” Steve stated happily, his smile lighting up the room in a way no one else probably could.

“It was only the truth, S-Steve.” You stuttered shyly your cheeks flushing as you noticed Tony Stark rolling his eyes which made your eyes narrow.

“I’m sorry, do excuse me but is there an issue, Mr Stark?” You huffed with much more attitude than you probably should’ve been aiming at him.

“I just think your ‘opinion’ is wrong.” He stated with an arrogant smirk.

“And I think you married way out of your league and personally think you have a narcissistic personality, but I kept that part to myself when I spoke of the avengers. No offence to your genius and well achieved wife.” You stated as you gave Pepper a nod of apologies.

“None taken, Miss Y/L/N. However, I believe your admiration for Mr Barnes is actually a good thing…he doesn’t get a lot of good publicity and I think you are good for his PR.” Pepper stated making you nod in agreement.

“The Sergeant hasn’t seen that interview, has he?” You asked your face turning bright red as you assessed the room full of people.

“Actually, he’s being shown it as we speak…he should be done in about… oh here he is now.” Steve stated as the man you’d defended walked through the door.

“Oh, for the love of Thor.” You whispered in embarrassment, your hand covering your face as you shot your manager a panicked look.

“Bucky, this is Y/N Y/L/N from the interview… she’s a big fan.” Steve teased, his smirk not going unnoticed by you.

“I must say, Captain, you are much more of an asshole than I thought… and your arms are way bigger than they look on pictures…” You rambled clearly your filter had completely vanished.

“I am so sorry… when I get nervous, I tend to lose my mouth filter just tell me to shut up…Okay…big fan Sergeant.” You added with a bright red face as you turn towards Bucky and held your hand out for him to shake.

“Thanks… Why am I here, Steve?” He huffed with a very uncomfortable half smile as he shook your hand awkwardly.

“I think you and Y/N should spend some time together in public places…I think it would boost your PR and also make you less antisocial.” Steve snorted making Bucky glare at his longtime friend.

“I am not antisocial, I just don’t like most people, and everything is different… even dating is done on the internet now, it’s stupid.” Bucky rolled his eyes before looking at you with a more focused gaze.

“I appreciate your words, Doll, but I’m not about to force you to spend time with me because you don’t hate me like the rest of America.” Bucky spoke to you, and you shook your head.

“I’m actually a big fan genuinely… I think you’re amazing also I agree, online dating is stupid.” You stated his words had made you smile in a way you hadn’t in a while.

“You’re an interesting woman, I’ll give you that, sweetheart.” Bucky chuckled sending you a panty melting smile that made you literally clutch your metaphorical pearls.

“Bucky used to be quite the ladies' man, back in the day.” Steve snorted suddenly making your eyes shoot towards him.

“I was, until this asshole grew muscles, and no woman would pick me over him.” Bucky huffed playfully with an eye roll.

“No offence, Captain, but I think I’d choose the Sergeant…” You whispered to Steve earning a smile from him.

“I can hear you, Doll.” Bucky whispered teasingly causing your face to flush.

“Well… moving on. I would be happy to spend some time with you, if you wouldn’t mind of course. It would be great to get to know you.” You mumbled in embarrassment your cheeks turning bright pink.

“I guess. What could go wrong?”

Everyone’s famous last words.

RENOWNED SCI-FI AUTHOR DATING THE WINTER SOLDIER!

Those words were sprawled across the front page of the New York Times. It wasn’t that people were assuming you’d date Mr Barnes, but more that you’re embarrassed for Mr Barnes because anyone is crazy if they think that man would want to date a silly Sci-Fi author.

“I really hope he doesn’t think I had anything to do with this.” You muttered to your manager, as you rode the elevator up to the Stark PR Office.

“In what world would you want to date a 100 year old man?” She chuckled making you shoot a glare straight at her.

“In every world wouldn’t I date Mr Barnes. He’s charming, handsome and a gentleman.” You snapped back at your manager, making her look down in shame.

You slapped down the paper as you threw your head back in frustration. You had only been on a few outings with Mr Barnes but somehow the sleaze bag journalists deemed that enough to assume you were dating. Your work phone had been ringing none stop all morning with people asking for quote on your supposed new relationship.

You had finally turned your phone off after sending a text to Steve with your personal phone number. The calls were getting too much, and your head was pounding. Your personal phone started ringing so you hurried to answer the call.

“Doll?” The sergeants voice rang out over the speaker making you jolt up straight as you took speaker mode off and pressed the phone to your ear.

“Hi, Mr Barnes.” You muttered sweetly, making him groan.

“I told you to call me Bucky, Doll.” He chuckled making you flush bright red.

“I’m so sorry about the paper, Bucky.” You sighed softly making your manager roll her eyes.

“It’s hardly your fault, sweetheart. It doesn’t bother me let them assume whatever they want. I hope it doesn’t bother you.” He chuckled darkly making you frown.

“It doesn’t. I was more worried you’d be bothered, kind of puts a damper on your single status.” You giggled making him laugh.

“Hey there are worse things. Steve says it’s good PR.” He mumbles causing you to nod only to realise he couldn’t see you.

“I’m popping to the farmers market later would you like to come? Maybe we could go for lunch after?” You asked quietly hoping he would say yes.

“You sure? People might think we’re married next.” He teased making you giggle.

“There are worse things.” You sassed his own words back at him causing another chuckle from the older man.

“Okay, I’ll pick you soon. You okay with bikes?” He asked softly making your heart flutter.

“Hell yes!” You exclaimed happily as you hung up and sent a text with your address.

You quickly ran to get dressed. Sliding on a pair of black skintight cargo pants, khaki green long sleeved cropped Henley with your black leather lace up heels and your teddy bear fur collared leather jacket.

Your hair was curled loosely, your makeup was simple with a glowing base. You deemed the outfit acceptable for the market and a bike ride.

You gave yourself a nod in the mirror, just as you received a text from Bucky telling you he was here. You bid your manager goodbye, telling her to lock up when she left, before running out the house with a smile. You spotted Bucky immediately stood next to his bike with a very serious scowl on his face.

When he spotted you, his scowl was replaced by a grin as he took you in, his eyes scanning you up and down. You flushed softly as his arm brushed you when you were close enough.

“You look beautiful.” He stated awkwardly as he hopped on his bike passing you a helmet which you glared at him for since he didn’t look like he was about to put one on.

“Thank you. Though these are my casual clothes.” You giggled before putting on the helmet.

He held out his hand helping you onto the bike behind him. You were unsure of where to put your hands, so you just gripped onto the back of his leather jacket, however he seemed unsatisfied with that, so he grabbed your hands and looped them around his waist. You linked your fingers together tightly trying not to let your mind stray to how solid his abdomen was.

He soon sped off causing your heart to pound in your chest. You loved bikes but you were always too scared to get your own so you enjoyed it while you could. He sped around cars carefully until finally, much to your dismay, you arrived at the farmer's market.

He helped you off the parked bike before hopping off himself. He looked around noticing a few stares causing you to glare at some of them. You ignored them as you looped your arm with his metal one which appeared to shock him as he immediately tensed up.

He gradually relaxed, sending you a grateful smile as he patted your hand that was gripping his bicep with his human one. You both began strolling through the market until you spotted a stall with fresh fruit. You tugged him towards the stall with a soft giggle as he rolled his eyes.

“What’s your favourite?” You asked as you scanned the contents of the stall.

“Plums, I guess.” He grumbled in his usual grumpy tone.

“Is being out with me that bad?” You asked with a sad frown as you began letting go of his arm.

His eyes widened as his hand shot out to keep your arm around his bicep. He shook his head silently before pulling you closer.

“I can hear them talking.” He explains and suddenly you felt awful for forgetting he could hear better than you.

“Ignore them. Let’s get some plums and, Hmm how about strawberry and cherries?” You muttered casually as you pulled him towards the strawberries.

“Whatever you want, Doll.” He chuckled softly as he allowed you to tug him along.

You finally let go so you could go pay but Bucky beat you to it paying for everything in the bag as you stood off to one side with a pout on your face. Once he’s done paying, he turned around to face you but suddenly his eyes flicked behind you widening.

Before you knew what was happening Bucky grabbed you by the waist and spun you to the other side of himself just in time to see a guy on a moped speed past Bucky. He’s just saved your life your eyes brimmed with tears from the shock but as Bucky saw this, he must’ve thought he’d hurt you because he instantly pulled away.

“I’m sorry if I hurt you, Doll.” He whispered; guilt evident in his voice.

“No, you didn’t. You saved my life.” You sniffled with a pout as you wrapped your arms around him, burying your face in his chest.

“Are you okay?” He asked gently as a few people were watching the both of you.

“Mhmm, thank you, Bucky.” You whispered against his solid chest.

“Come on, let go get some lunch.” He muttered into your hair before pulling away. Though he kept his arm around your shoulder as you kept yours around his waist.

You strolled down the sidewalk before leading Bucky into a little café that you enjoyed. You spent a lot of time writing in this café so sometimes fans would find you here, but you ignored the stares as you made your way to the checkout. You ordered your usual as Bucky read over the drink and food options, in the end he ordered the same as you before you both found a little table just outside the café.

“So, your book must be quite popular?” He asked softly making you smile proudly.

“Yeah, I just published my second one in the series.” You replied happily.

Just as he was about to reply a young girl came up to the table holding a copy of your book which made you smile widely. She seemed a little scared to talk so you helped her by starting the conversation.

“How are you liking the second one?” You asked softly with a bright smile still on your face.

“Hi, I’m Veronica, It’s amazing! I’m such a big fan I used to read your work on Wattpad before you published. You’re so talented.” She rambled excitedly her enthusiasm making you chuckle.

“Oh, thank you, that’s so sweet.” You laughed happily as Bucky watched the exchange quietly.

“Is it true that you two are dating?” She suddenly asked making you glance at Bucky who seemed to stiffen in his seat.

“Sorry, that was really inappropriate. Well either way your true fans are totally routing for you! It’s nice to meet you, Sergeant Barnes.” She suddenly said before you could answer.

“It’s nice to meet you too.” Bucky replied politely with a small nod.

“Can I get a picture with both of you?” She asked rather shyly.

You glanced at Bucky who gave you a nod before you looked towards Veronica and gave her an affirmative nod. You both stood up one on either side of her before she pulled out her camera. Bucky had a straight face as she aimed the front camera upwards.

“Smile, Bucky.” You snorted as you nudged his metal arm.

“Sorry, Doll.” Bucky huffed with a playful eye roll which made Veronica laugh.

She took her picture and thanked you both before running off back to her table where her friends were waiting. You glanced at Bucky who seemed awkward after the encounter, but you nudged him before you both took your seats.

“You could’ve said we weren’t dating.” He said suddenly making you frown.

“Would you prefer I told them that?” You asked seriously.

“No, but you don’t have to let people think you’d date me just to spare me.” He sighed softly making you pout a little.

“I would totally date you.” You blurted out making both yours and his eyes widen. You covered your face as it began heating up with a blush.

“Hey, Doll?” Bucky whispered as he pried your hands away. “I’d totally date you too.” He teased making you hide behind your hands again.

“I know you haven’t danced since the 40s, however there’s a really cool bar that plays stuff from 1930-1960s, if you’d like to go with me tonight?” You asked as you lowered your hands, once again not daring to look him in the eyes.

“You asking me to go dancing with you, Doll?” He chuckled playfully as our food and drinks arrived.

“Yes.” You giggled softly as you pulled out your phone and passed it to him once you’d found the video you wanted. It was a video of you dancing at the same bar with your grandad.

“That’s my grandad, he taught me how to swing dance.” You chuckled as Bucky watched the video.

“You look like you jumped right out of my era.” He laughed as he seemed to be enjoying the video.

“What’s this song? It’s quite good.” He asked with a small smile on his face.

“One of the greatest musicians of the 50s and 60s Elvis Presley. The song is Jailhouse Rock.” You replied casually as to not make him feel bad for not knowing.

“I would love to go dancing with you. Although I don’t know how good I’ll be now.” He grumbled awkwardly as he seemed to shrink a little.

“We’ll start slow and if you don’t wanna dance, that’s fine too.” You said trying to ease his tension.

“Deal. Thank you, Doll.” He chuckled his mood lightening instantly.

**************

You were wearing a taffeta midnight blue, a line dress that had a wrap style around the bust, paired with cream leather original Mary Jane heels. A cream lace snap handbag with pearl earrings for accessories.

Your makeup was simple with a black wing and red lips, which you checked for the fifth time making your mother roll her eyes. You ignored it as you turned to your grandmother with a concerned frown.

“Are you sure I can borrow great nana’s stuff?” You asked your grandmother for the third time.

“Honey, I’m hardly going to wear that stuff now. Plus, with that hunk of a man as your date, who would say no.” She whispered making you laugh at her words.

“Hey, that’s my hunk, even if he is older than you.” You laughed making her join you as your mother just shook her head at your antics.

Just then there was a knock on your front door making you freeze as you look at your grandmother who seemed to be contemplating running for the door. Your shot her a glare before making a break for it, you ran rather fast for someone in heels, but you hurried to grab your bag and keys before bolting out of the apartment.

“Woah! You okay there, Doll?” Bucky laughed as you ran right into him.

“My mom and Nana are in there.” You whispered shyly making his eyes widen.

“My nana brought round my great nana’s dress.” You added as he finally took in your outfit as he stepped back.

“Wow.” He whispered under his breath before clearing his throat and standing up straight as you took in his appearance.

He was wearing a black double-breasted suit with a white shirt and black satin tie. He had black shiny shoes too match his hair has been cut too which made you both sad and excited all at the same time. You’d miss his long hair, but you couldn’t argue he looked hotter than hell with short hair.

“Fucking hell.” You whisper under your breath as you tried to stop your heart from beating out of your chest.

“My sentiments exactly.” Bucky chuckled as he scanned you up and down once again.

“I keep forgetting you can hear better than me.” You laughed awkwardly as you held your small bag tightly in your hands.

“It’s fine. Come on, I borrowed Steve’s car so you wouldn’t have to ride the bike in a dress.” He stated as he held his left arm out for you.

You were happy he finally warmed up to touching you with his metal arm, usually he tried to use his right arm whenever he touched you. Unless you made the first move.

You drove to the bar in silence as Bucky drummed away on the steering wheel as if trying to bat away whatever anxiety was eating away at him. You reached over to grasp his hand in yours, giving him a soft smile, silently telling him you were here.

“We can turn around, Buck.” You whispered gently, your face softening.

“No. No, I can do this.” He replied just as softly.

He released your hand before opening the driver's side door and stepping out. He ran around to the passenger door to open it for you, holding out his hand for you, his leather gloves still on much to your disappointment. You took his hand with a vibrant grin taking over your face.

As you walked inside Bucky must’ve been expecting to be stared at again because he kept his head down and his other hand in his pocket. However, when you nudged him, he finally looked up only for his eyes to widen as he looked around.

“Is that my face?” He asked as his jaw hit the floor.

“Yeah, the walls are covered with historical war figures. The owner, Sal, has had that picture up here since the world found out, said and I quote ‘These government bastards take everything and give nothing.’” You chuckled as he glanced up to find everyone staring, not in malice but in respect.

Once everyone had given a nod of respect, they went back to their nights. You pulled Bucky to the bar as he seemed to relax a lot more now. He was glancing around in awe of everything, what you didn’t realise was that for Bucky, you’d just given him a second to remember who he used to be.

“You’re amazing.” He suddenly blurted out making you jump a little.

“I think the same thing about you, Sergeant.” You giggled as you order a whiskey and a martini.

You sat chatting over two drinks before jailhouse rock came on and Bucky stood from his seat, holding out his hand silently and you took it happily.

He spun around as you reached to dance floor before his feet started moving subtly at first until he finally gave into it and letting his muscle memory from the 40s take him back. You were both so in sync with each other even when he did the first lift, thank you God you’d worn the booty shorts underneath. You were having so much fun that 4 songs went by before finally you both decided to get a drink.

“I’ve not danced like this since 1942.” He pants a little making you chuckle as you sipped a coke.

“You dance very well, Sergeant Barnes.” You flirted, batting your lashes at him.

“As do you, Miss Y/L/N.” Bucky chuckled equally as flirty.

You chatted for the rest of the night until it got to 2am when Sal finally announced he was closing. You and Bucky said goodnight to those who were leaving too, before making your way to the car. You didn’t want the night to end but you had to sleep eventually.

You held Bucky’s hand all the way home, occasionally smiling over at the older man who would smirk but never take his eyes off the road. You hadn’t ever felt this connected to someone before, it felt like how they described love in books.

You both walked up the stairs your arms wrapped around his bicep enjoying the feeling as he remained rather silent. You leaned your head against his bicep as you arrived at your front door.

“I had so much fun tonight.” You whispered shyly making him glance down at you with a pleased smile on his face.

“Me too.” He responded quietly; his eyes full of adoration.

“I would very much like to do this again.” You stated calmly as you pulled away, your back now facing your front door.

“That can be arranged.” He chuckled as he stepped a little closer causing you back to press against the door.

You stared into each other’s eyes longingly as your heart began racing against your chest. You never wanted to kiss someone as badly as you did at that moment. His eyes were slightly dazed as they drifted to your lips, until finally he granted your silent wish.

His surprisingly soft lips were on your red ones. Thank God you’d worn your good lipstick. His hand came up so carefully to touch your cheek as he urged you closer. It was then that you had realised he didn’t have gloves on, and it was his metal hand on your face.

You let out a soft gasp at the feeling of the cold metal on your bare skin. He must’ve thought something different because he pulled back looking guilty about something, which confused you until he tried putting his gloves back on. You instantly snatched the leather out of his hands before grabbing his metal hand and being back to your face.

“I made that noise because I wasn’t expecting it and I definitely wasn’t expecting how turned on I got from your metal hand touching me.” You chuckled awkwardly making his eyes widen a little before he was suddenly on you again. His lips kissing you with much more passion and less innocence than the first one.

He backed you up until finally your back hit the door and your hands flew around his neck, pulling him closer - if it was even possible. His flesh hand was on the door at the side of your head, whilst his metal one was cupping your cheek.

You both got lost in the kiss for a few more minutes until you were out of breath. He pulled away just enough to rest his forehead against yours. He looked down at you with hooded eyes as his metal thumb brushed across your bottom lip.

“God, you’re making it really hard to be gentleman right now.” He whispered against you lips like he was trying to do anything to distract himself.

“You're not using me for a lay, are you?” You asked softly making his face sober up instantly.

“No, I would never do that to you, Doll.” He replied seriously making you grin from ear to ear.

“Then this is the 21st century, Buck, women can do what they want. So, Sergeant…would you like to come in for some coffee?” You asked in a sultry voice that instantly brought back that same dazed look.

“I don’t know what kind of idiot would say no to you.” He chuckled huskily as he placed open mouthed kiss on your lips before pulling back completely.

You took that opportunity to spin around and unlock your door silently. When you got inside the apartment Bucky trudged behind you slowly, as if waiting for you to change your mind. You weren’t going to, granted you wouldn’t usually bring a first date home, but it wasn’t like Bucky was a stranger. You had been friends for a few weeks, coffee dates and lunch plans even a movie at one point, so you had no regrets inviting this sweet man in.

He rarely allowed you to pay for anything, always held the door open for you, always helped you up and downstairs like you were a lady. You were a woman sure but a ‘lady’ you weren’t graceful or polite enough to be one. But that didn’t matter to Bucky because he always treated you like one. Yes, it’s slightly outdated but he also respects your opinions and values them. He really listens when you talk even about things he doesn’t understand.

“Would you like me to make the coffee while you sit down. Dancing in heels can’t be kind to your feet?” He asks gently leaving you smiling like an idiot.

“Coffee is for the morning, Sergent.” You whispered seductively as you grabbed his metal hand and started pulling him towards the bedroom.

“You are a minx.” Bucky chuckled as he followed you until you came to your bedroom.

“I-I haven’t…” he started but strayed from his own words as he contemplated how to say it.

“You haven’t had sex in a while?” You finished for him making his eyes lower to the ground.

“We can wait, if you want?” You asked softly as you cupped both his cheeks making him look at you.

“No, it’s not that, I just don’t want to disappoint you.” He mumbled shyly making your heart literally stutter in your chest.

“You could never disappoint me unless you ever forced yourself to do something you weren’t comfortable with.” You whispered soothingly making a smile tug at his lips. You stepped back and confidently undid you dress before letting it fall to the floor leaving you in underwear and boots shorts.

“You’re one of a kind, Y/N Y/L/N.” He whispers against your lips before you began helping him remove his jacket and tie.

“So are you. You quite literally just turned me on saying my name.” You teased, your tone flirty as your hands tugged at the short hairs at the back of his head, sliding them down until you were at the buttons of his shirt. You began undoing each button until he finally shed the damn thing.

“Well, I do apologise, Miss Y/L/N, let me rectify that.” He replied playfully as he grabbed the back of your thigh, pulling you up and wrapping your legs around him. He then carried you over to the bed with ease as his hand gripped at your thighs.

He lowered you down so gently you wished he’d be rougher, but you knew he’d have to work up to that, just like with his metal arm. You stared into his eyes before running your hand over his chest and all the way to his metal arm. He stiffened for a second before smirking at you.

“You appear to have some sort of fetish for my arm, Doll.” He whispered

“It’s called a kink and 100%.” You giggled making him roll his eyes.

“You strike me as a woman who likes romance and gentle acts, but I have a feeling I’m wrong.” He chuckled making you smirk.

“Oh yeah, I love romance too but without sounding too crude, Sergeant, I’d rather you fuck me like an unhinged animal.” You stated confidently making his eyes widen.

“Fuck…can’t say shit like that, baby.” He groaned as he buried his head in your bare collar bone. The new nickname had your heart practically out of your chest as you let out a little whimper.

“Fuck me, Sergeant.” You whimpered a hint of desperation in your voice as you clutched at both of his biceps.

“Need to do something first.” He growled as he started down the bed and before you could ask, your panties and shorts were off, and Bucky was on you.

His lips leaving kisses and nibbles wherever he went. You had no doubt the inside of your thighs would be covered in love bites by the end, but you didn’t care. When he licked a stripe up the top of your inner thigh a breath away from you heat, your back arched off the bed as your hands gripped at the sheets.

“You don’t have to, Buck.” You whispered sweetly despite that being the opposite of what you actually wanted.

“Oh, I know but I’ve been thinking about doing this all week, baby. Need to taste you.” He said his tone pleading, before finally his lips were on your clit dropping a small kiss there.

His tongue licked up your slit with the happiest groan you’d ever heard before. His tongue began drawing small shapes on the tiny bundle of nerves. You bit you lip to contain the noises that were coming out your mouth, but when Bucky saw this his flesh hand came down on the outside of your thigh. The sensation had you gripping his hair with both of your hands.

“Dirty girl.” He whispered into your heat before his tongue was back on you.

His flesh fingers came down to join as he slid two inside you at an agonisingly slow pace. You half wished he’d use his metal hand, but you were sure if that would be as fun as it sounded in your head. He immediately curled his fingers upwards making you practically see stars.

“Oh, fuck yes, Buck.” You moaned as he sucked lightly on your bundle of nerves.

“God, you taste like heaven.” Bucky groaned as he starts lapping away at you like a mad man. You screamed out unable to hold it back anymore as you began practically humping his face.

His metal hand gripped your thigh and suddenly you felt yourself building up to that high. He slid the warmed metal up your torso up to your bra before he ripped it off, the two cups no longer sewn together. You couldn’t even be angry because it was the hottest thing you’d ever seen.

“So close…please, Bucky.” You moaned as your back once again arched off your bed.

“I got you…cum for me, baby.” He muttered huskily, his breath fanning across your clit before he started his ministrations back up.

His tongue felt so wet and soft it was making your head spin, how he was eating you like a man starved. It sounded dirty but the noise only served to drive you closer to the edge. He started thrusting his two fingers harshly into your g-spot making your eyes roll back into your skull.

“B-Bucky.” You stuttered between moans as you finally fell over the edge. You thrust against his face riding out your high until it became too sensitive to do so.

“Need you, Buck, p-please.” You whimpered as you began undoing his slacks.

“You’re so pretty when you beg, baby.” He chuckled teasingly as he pulled himself up, wiping his stubble covered face as he smirked down at you.

“If you want me to beg, Sergeant, I’ll beg.” You whispered in a sultry tone.

“Please, Sergeant, need your cock…need it so bad please, sir.” You begged prettily, batting your eye relishes at him with a hint of faux innocence.

“Fuck, baby.” Bucky groaned as you pulled down his pants and threw them to one side with his boxers.

You glanced down at his member it was thick. He was big too, but his thickness was beyond anything’s you’d had before. God that was gonna fill you up. You bit your lower lip as you tried to not moan just from the sight of his painfully hard member.

His metal fingers wound around your neck softly not wanting to hurt you but just the feeling of the fast-cooling metal had your head spinning. You leaned into his touch making his eyes darken as he squeezed once before going back to resting it there.

“Not gonna last long, baby.” He whispered as he lined his member up with your entrance.

“Don’t care just need to feel you. Can cum inside - on contraception.” You stated desperately, the words seemed to make him beyond enthusiastic.

He slid inside you, stretching you a little leaving a slight burn in its wake but you relished in it. You’d never felt so full, it was bliss. Your arms around him, dragging your nails down his back with enough force he groaned into your ear.

“You feel so good.” He moaned deeply into your neck as he left a small bite there.

“Fuck me, Bucky.” You pleaded as you left small kisses trailing down his face until you finally got to his lips, bringing him in for a heated kiss.

He began thrusting in and out of your heat, grunting and groaning into your mouth as you battled for dominance. You knew you’d hand it over in an instant but the little battle you were having was spurring him to go faster and deeper.

His metal hand was still on your throat as he completely took over your every sense. You could feel yourself building again, you’d never came from penetration before, but you felt so good right now. You whimpered into the kiss before pulling away to look into his eyes.

“Bucky.” You moaned quietly as his thrusting became stuttered. You began thrusting your hips inwards as you felt you peak nearing once again.

“Cum with me, Y/N.” He groaned as he stared into your eyes.

With a few more well times thrusts from both parties, you both came together, clinging to one another as you both rode out your orgasms. Bucky finally stilled as he stared down at you with a new emotion that you hadn’t ever seen in his face, but you decided at that moment it was the prettiest face you’d ever seen.

“You’re going to steal my heart, Sergeant Barnes.” You whispered breathlessly against his lips as your eyes flickered between his lips and eyes.

“I’ll keep it safe.” He replied sweetly as he seemed to catch his breath back.

Bucky tried to clean you but you stated you’d need to pee anyway, so you didn’t get a UTI which he understood. He slid his boxers on after giving himself a wipe as you finally finished and ran back to bed in his white shirt that had been discarded on the floor.

“You look tiny in my clothes.” He chuckled as he pulled you into his arms the second you were on the bed.

You let out a giggle as you snuggled into his chest happily. This was more than you could ever ask for, this man had worked his way into your thoughts and life like he was always supposed to be there. And you didn’t have a single complaint.

“Night, Buck.” You whispered as he pulled the covers over both of you.

“Night, Doll.” He replied softly as he pressed a kiss to your hair.

*********

It was sometime in the early morning when the sound of broken whimpers dragged you from your slumber. You sat up, grogginess still resonating as you glanced down at Bucky was gripping the sheets in a deadly grip. You immediately knew what this was. Your father had PTSD after 10 years of serving his country and you knew what a night terror looked like.

You knew you shouldn’t wake him because he could get violent especially if you touched him. So, you decided to get up and make coffee. It was 6am which was an acceptable time, so you got out of bed despite wanting desperately to wake him up.

You walked to the kitchen and began preparing the coffee machine. Once everything was prepped you started the machine and made you way to the bedroom with no intention of being quiet. You dug around your closet for a pair of joggers that used to be your brothers that you figured would fit before turning around.

“Babe!” You shouted towards the bed but there was no change.

You glanced down at his face that was still scrunched in a pained face and you decided you didn’t care if he hurt you, you couldn’t leave him like that.

You decided a gentle approach might work so you slipped into bed and began kissing his naked chest. It was around the time you pressed one just under his ear his whimpers of pain turned into needy groans.

“Doll?” He groaned as you nibbled in ear lobe before pulling away.

“Morning, Buck, coffees on.” You giggled as he arms wrapped around you.

“It’s still early baby what are you doing up?” He asked softly since you’d only had 3 hours of sleep.

“You we’re having a night terror, but I knew I shouldn’t wake you cos obviously it’s dangerous but you wouldn’t wake up even when I stomped around the house like an elephant. So, I kissed you awake.” You replied gently hoping not to make him feel bad.

“I’m so sorry, Doll.” He muttered as he sat up, staring at bed with a scowl on his face.

“My dad served for 10 years. He finally retired when I was in high school…but he still has some night terrors even now.” You supplied before taking his metal hand in yours.

“It’s normal to have them when you were forced to do things you didn’t want to do, Buck. I don’t mind I just hate that you have to suffer through them.” You whispered sadly as you climbed into his quilt covered lap.

“You’re too sweet to me Doll.” He muttered shyly into your chest; his head buried completely in your breast.

You ran your fingers through his short hair making him sigh happily as his waist wrapped around you tightly. He eventually pulled away his eyes boring into yours as he tucked a strand of hair behind your ear.

“How did I get so lucky?” He chuckled as you preened from the compliment.

“It’s not luck. I think I was made for you.” You whispered jokingly making him roll his eyes.

“Mmm, that would make sense.” He laughed as you climbed off his lap.

“I found you some of my brother's joggers for you.” You stated as you passed him the joggers.

“Thank you, Doll. I’m surprised you don’t want me gone yet. We practically spent a full 24 hours together.” He laughed as he stepped out the bed and slid into the comfy pants.

“You’re very goo-”

Suddenly your phone was blowing up with notifications from messages and Google alerts that told you when something was published about you. You glanced down at the newest article but this one actually brought a smile to your face.

“What’s going on?” He asked cautiously as he glanced over your shoulder.

‘Secretly sweeter than Cap?’ Was the caption written across the New York Times digital paper today.

‘It appears our most hated avenger may be our new favourite. James was seen with our favourite sci-fi author at the market yesterday morning buying fruit when a bike almost ran her over and according to my sources was quickly spun out of harms way by the Sergeant himself. (How very rom-com of you, Mr Barnes.) Later that morning the couple was spotted talking to a fan of Y/N’s and even taking pictures with her. (Picture below.)

Now as I was editing this article it came to my attention that they were also found to have gone dancing later that day which was apparently filmed by one of the Sergeants few fans. (Link below)

This may be our new favourite couple. We wish you the best Ship/Name!’

You couldn’t believe it finally people were warming to him, and you couldn’t be happier. You glanced at him to see his eyes widened but you could see a small smile forming on his lips. As he glanced at the pictures that had been taken of you both.

“I like these pictures.” He stated seriously making you giggle.

That’s when Bucky’s phone started going off. He quickly answered the phone before putting it on speaker as soon as he knew it was Steve.

“You didn’t come home last night.” He said first making you giggle again which you tried to cover up with your hand.

“On the first date, Bucky?” Steve whispered like it was beyond scandalous.

“It’s the 21st century, Cap!” You huffed as you began walking to the kitchen, Bucky following you closely behind.

“Yes, I’m aware. Times have changed.” He grumbled rather childishly.

“Don’t be sad, Cap. You need to loosen up. Get laid.” You teased making Bucky laugh whole heartedly as he pressed a kiss to your forehead.

“I’m done with this conversation. Have a good day we’ve got no work today so come back whenever.” He groaned with what you imagined was an eye roll.

“Oh, I will definitely have a good day. Bye, Steve.” Bucky chuckled as he brought you in for a heated kiss.

“Let’s get you fed and some coffee then we’re going back to your bedroom.” He growled playfully making you flush softly.

“Yes, Sergeant.” You moaned against his lips before running to get coffee as Bucky started cooking.

You could get used to this.

#fluff #smut #imagine #bucky barnes x you #bucky barnes x reader #bucky barnes imagine #sergeant james buchanan barnes #sergeant #barnes #bucky #reader insert #marvel #the avengers #writer!reader #bucky x you #bucky x reader #buck x writer!reader #Sergeant Barnes x reader #the winter soldier

353 notes · View notes

frozenjokes · 1 month

Text

An Exercise In Wishful Thinking

a fic about HotGuy, and his pathetic little (MASSIVE) crush on an ordinary guy, an ordinary guy who kind of couldn’t give less of a shit if he tried.

Scar’s face smashed against the pavement, his visor splintering against his head and pinching the bridge of his nose as momentum carried him rolling forward, toppling like a ragdoll across the top of the small apartment building. He groaned, disoriented as he finally landed on his back, but CuteGuy’s boot against his stomach forcibly pushed the noise out, leaving Scar wheezing.

“You’re off your game today, HotGuy,” CuteGuy sneered, sharp teeth visible just below his mask, though it wasn’t a shocking thing, sharp teeth, practically everyone had some kind of fangs, and really, it was a bit boring; if Scar was meant to be intimidated, he certainly wasn’t, “Something the matter?” CuteGuy cut through his thoughts, which was rather rude, Scar wasn’t done thinking badly about him yet, but, “We all have bad days. How about you take a day off, get some rest, nap a bit, and leave me alone for once, hm?” Cuteguy pushed again against Scar’s stomach, using more force, enough to shove his entire body back. Scar was only aware of how close he was to the edge of the building when his head hung over the side, half limp. Hm. Not great.

Scar raised his hands, shaky from the strain, “Well, since you asked, I guess, yeah, I’m not really feeling too great. I dunno. It’s just hard to be adored and famous all the time, you know? Life’s starting to feel less like fun and more like business, brand deals, work, work, work. I just feel like I don’t have many friends, y’know? Real friends, god forbid, human friends. Hardly a human even lives in this dumb city anymore, too dangerous, too many assholes with wings enacting petty revenge on their landlords from like ten years ago. I-”

“Shut up, I don’t care.”

“You asked! And while we’re on the subject of things you did, I was minding my own business up here before you attacked me! You can’t tell me to leave you alone if you started it!” Scar would have said more, but CuteGuy pressed his boot harder into his stomach, almost stomping, just without the wind up.

“You were looking for me. Thought I’d just send you home on my terms before you decided to become a problem.”

Scar’s head lolled a bit more off the edge of the building, eyes squeezed shut, “I’m not always looking for trouble,” he wheezed, managing to open his eyes just in time to catch a sight of what he’d actually been looking for tonight, just a glance being enough to restore the air back into his lungs. Not tearing his eyes away, he pushed against CuteGuy’s leg, admittedly, a little pathetically, but his priorities were elsewhere, “Pause, pause. Off.”

“Pause?” CuteGuy squawked, bird-like as he tended to get when he was particularly surprised, “What do you mean pause, this isn’t a game you-” HotGuy gathered all the strength he had left tonight to grip CuteGuy’s boot, heaving up and unbalancing him while he was distracted, then rolling away and stumbling to his feet.

“I have to go! Emergency! We wrap this up tomorrow?” Scar hurried over to where he’d dropped his bow when CuteGuy ambushed him, then back to the building’s edge, bouncing in place on his andriod legs.

CuteGuy hissed, and Scar wasn’t sure if he’d ever seen CuteGuy’s feathers so puffed out; even the bits of his face that weren’t covered by a mask were beet-red, “You are not seriously just going to leave! I’m not done with you!” CuteGuy lunged forward, but Scar’s arrow was nocked just as fast, the shot just barely grazing one of CuteGuy’s wings as he awkwardly sidestepped to avoid it. Scar was over the edge before CuteGuy could recover, rolling as he hit the pavement, then running down the street.

The civilian didn’t seem to hear him coming, or any of the other commotion for that matter, clearly oblivious to the danger so close by. It was a good thing that CuteGuy had never been slighted by this particular civilian, or he’d surely be dead by now, walking so carelessly by himself by night. Thank goodness HotGuy was here!

“Cub! Cub!” Scar called, still running, but Cub did not respond, the wires of his earbuds dangling loosely from his ears. Ah. Classic. Cub was fiddling with his phone, brows furrowed as he held it up toward a street sign- taking a picture, maybe?

“Hello! Sir!” Scar called as he got closer, and mercifully, Cub seemed to hear, taking out one of his earbuds and turning around. “Hello!” Scar said again, feeling his heart flutter, though, now was not the time.

Cub looked a little nervous; reasonable, anyone might be intimidated by a superhero running their way. “Hey, man, what’s up?” ‘Man’ Oh, Scar adored how Cub addressed him, so casual, so familiar. It was exciting to be ‘man,’ like he was a friend, oh, could they be friends?

“Hello there! I thought I should warn you, there is a very angry supervillain out and about right now, so we should probably be running in the other direction!” Scar kept a light tone as not to frighten Cub, though the other’s demeanor hardly changed.

“Oh, which one?”

Scar couldn’t help but stumble over his feet and words in his surprise at that question, which was apparently more emotion than Cub felt at being told he could be dead in the next couple minutes if they weren’t careful (though, of course, Scar would never allow this to happen). “Uhm- CuteGuy.”

“CuteGuy..” Cub furrowed his brow in thought, a bit of a distractingly adorable look if Scar was being honest.. hm.. something was different about Cub’s face today. Actually, something was definitely off. Had he gotten a haircut? Scar jumped when Cub spoke again, “Don’t think I’ve wronged any short blonde avians in the past week. I tend to try not to, so I think I’ll be alright.” Cub kept walking. Scar gaped.

“I- well I- I mean CuteGuy doesn’t exactly like me very much, so we may still have a bit of a problem.” Scar had to jog to catch up, unable to hide the strain in his voice.

“Oh man, well, good luck then. Sorry ‘bout that,” Cub glanced back, and didn’t look entirely too thrilled to see Scar still following him, which, maybe that was fair. Though, Cub never looked too incredibly thrilled about anything most of the time; Scar had only seen him smile once. It was a delightful thing, Cub’s smile, one Scar was sure he’d never forget. Like, come on, it’s not every day you see someone with flat teeth-

“Hey, could you read that street sign for me?”

Scar blinked, too stunned to do much else but follow Cub’s gaze, “Uh, that's Wright Street.”

“Thanks, man,” Cub said, and then he just kept walking, kept walking like there wasn’t a supervillain just a block away, probably seconds away from being very rude and interrupting all this chemistry!

“Cub,” Scar stressed, “I just think maybe-” but Scar stopped when Cub startled, whipping around to face him with wide eyes.

“Shit- I didn’t- I don’t have my glasses, I dropped them on the,” Cub floundered, and Scar threw up his hands in a placating motion, surprised by the sudden change. Cub squinted, looking a little distressed, and Scar wanted nothing more than to take it all away.

“It’s okay! I don’t mind reading the street signs!”

“I-” Cub struggled, and with him, Scar’s heart ached, “What’s your name, again?” Oh. Oh. Scar stopped short, stuck somewhere between shock and confusion. Was- Was he not in costume or something? Scar looked stupidly at his own clothes, dumbfounded. How bad was Cub’s eyesight?

“I’m HotGuy.”

Cub stared. Scar stared back.

“Oh. That makes sense.” Cub kept walking. Scar struggled to feel normal about that. Well, maybe he was just embarrassed! Everyone dealt with emotions in different ways, and Cub tended to deal with them by not emoting at all! Nothing wrong with that! Sure, they had only met twice, but Scar had been properly embarrassed not recognizing the faces of fans who had spoken with him before- he couldn’t imagine how Cub must be feeling now, especially with HotGuy being as recognizable as he was (even a little bit blurry).

“It’s nothing to worry about, nothing to worry about at all! My face is plastered just about everywhere, but I still look different in person I’m sure, and it's dark out, and you don’t have your glasses, of course.”

“Oh, not that, I was thinking of the CuteGuy thing,” Cub didn’t even look back as he spoke, not harsh per se, but extremely.. Honest. “Lots of people look kinda like you, all colorful and dressed up. I thought you might be cosplaying or something.”

Scar struggled to keep his smile, unable to do much else but stare. Cub wasn’t looking at him anyway. “..Do they now?”

“Yeah.” Cub continued on. Scar was beginning to suspect they did not live in the same city. Maybe not even in the same world. Cub was starting to get a little far, and once Scar remembered to stop gaping, he had to jog again to catch up. Cub seemed a little more confused by his presence, fiddling with his earbuds again (surely he hadn’t turned his music back on, right?) before turning, “You said CuteGuy was close, right? Are you going to.. fight.. him?”

“Oh!” Scar jumped on his toes, “No, probably not again. At least not right now, I hope. I’m guessing if he was going to he already would have- well, actually, I beat him so badly he’s probably still licking his wounds, like, metaphorically. I kind of embarrassed him, there was a crowd and everything.”

“A crowd?” Cub sounded surprised- no, amused when he turned his head. He had a little smile on his face, gosh, what Scar would give just to be able to look at that forever. “Just a block away, right? On this empty, quiet road?” Cub stopped walking, and Scar was so thrilled to have his attention, it took a couple extra moments to process the words he was saying.

“Ah-” Scar felt his face heat up. He ran a hand through his hair, hoping to hide his embarrassment, “Small crowd. Quiet crowd. I mean, you know CuteGuy, if he feels slighted by anyone, he’ll probably get his friend Poultry Man to egg all their houses or something.”

“Oh yeah, petty guy.”

“Extremely so!” Scar lit up, though Cub still didn’t look like he believed a word Scar said. Scar pursed his lips momentarily before continuing, “You know, you could say my glasses are broken too! We’re like, totally on the same page right now. CuteGuy put up quite the fight, well, a little bit. He didn’t put up that much of a fight, but he did smash my visor. Again. Seriously, someone needs to figure out his identity so I can start sending him my bills, I hate replacing stuff.”

Cub cocked his head to the side, and even without the glasses, Scar felt like he was looking right through him. It was vulnerable, in a magical kind of way. “Can I see it?”

Scar startled, missing the question. “What?”

“Can I see your visor? The place I work manufactures this kind of stuff, I might be able to hook you up for something a bit cheaper.”

“I-I can’t just take off my visor, Cub, you’d see my face. Secret identities, you know how it is.”

“I can’t see anything right now. If it makes you uncomfortable, you could just cover your face with your hands or turn around. Doesn’t really matter to me. I’m not going to steal a look; I couldn’t care less about superhero stuff. It’d be nice if you came by, bought something, then let my manager know who referred you though.”

“I- ah- Well of course! But I-” shouldn’t, was the word he meant to say, and couldn’t would have been even more accurate. Scar could not take off his visor, no matter how many cracks it had. It would be completely irresponsible! And for all he knew, CuteGuy was still around- everyone knew avians had impeccable eyesight. But on the other hand… Cub, Cub removing his visor. His hands in Scar’s hair, undoing the mask, gentle and kind and not sharp, goodness, someone without claws touching his face, peeling back the mask and (not really) seeing him. Scar felt himself melt into that non-existent touch. “Be my guest, then.” He closed his eyes. … He opened his eyes. Cub was staring at him.

“Are you going to take it off?”

“Ah-” Again, Scar felt his face heat up, and suddenly, he wanted much less to remove his visor, “Sorry, just nervous! Never done this before, haha!”

“I can cover my eyes if you-”

“Yes. Do that.” Scar nearly hissed, struggling to contain his own embarrassment. Cub didn’t hesitate, his expression almost crushingly neutral as he closed his eyes, then turned around. Scar bit his lip. The mask wasn’t easy to remove- it was important it stayed on during a fight, so despite doing this thousands of times, Scar still had to fiddle with it to get it off, practically shoving the thing into Cub’s arms so he could properly cover his face, feeling stupid as he cowered with his hands over his eyes. If Cub was paying him any mind, he didn’t know.

“Oh, it’s not so bad,” Cub mused, “It’s only the screen that’s shattered; the frame is a little beaten up, but still sturdy. Shouldn’t need replacing, but I guess you’d know better than I would. You want another orange one? Come by after 12:00 tomorrow and I’ll have it ready for you to pick up?” Scar felt the mask bump against his hands, and when he snuck a peek through his fingers, he saw Cub’s eyes were firmly shut. The gesture, benign as it was, made his heart flutter.

“Blue works too. As long as it matches.” Scar took the mask, quickly refastening it to his face. God that was stupid. Why had he done that. He already had suppliers, why did his brain have to be so dumb? “Thanks,” he choked out, “It’s back on.”

Cub opened his eyes, though they didn’t focus much; damn, he really must have awful eyesight- whatever. Fine. But he’d get to see Cub again! He’d have a real excuse, oh, maybe this was worth it. Wait a minute!

“Could I get your number?” Scar felt himself blurt out the words, flustered enough for the extra bit of awkwardness to embarrass him further, “For- ah- directions.” He tried to smile. Cub might have smiled back in his own way; which is to say, not actually smiling at all or making any sort of expression that might ease Scar’s nerves.

“Wouldn’t it just be easier if I gave you the address?” Genuine. Honest. Fucking brutal.

Scar pursed his lips, an expression Cub almost certainly didn’t see. “Yup. Probably.” Hopefully, tomorrow Cub would have another pair of glasses, so at the very least if he wasn’t persuaded by an extraordinarily attractive man desperately vying for his attention, he might just take pity on him. Though this didn’t quite feel like rejection, more just misunderstanding- Scar still had a chance here. Cub gave him the address and Scar wrote it down, still unable to squash the lingering disappointment as Cub, entirely unconcerned, waved goodbye, beginning his walk in the other direction.

But just as Scar turned around, “Wait!” and just like that, he had never stopped so quickly, spinning right back around to face Cub, who had also stopped. “Sorry, I just forgot, I wanted to get a picture-”

“A picture!” Scar cut him off accidentally, excitement taking over, “Why of course! I’d love to!” Scar trotted over, and Cub looked a bit put off, but no matter! Scar was great at taking pictures. Maybe once he managed to get Cub’s number, Cub could send it to him!

Cub shifted his weight, clearly a bit nervous, but that was nothing new. Honestly, it felt incredibly normal, a welcome feeling, and Scar felt right at home bending to Cub’s level as the other fumbled with his phone, flashing a practiced grin. Cub did not smile in the picture, looking nothing less than bored- utterly bizarre, but to each their own! With any luck, they’d get to take many more pictures.

“Thanks,” Cub mumbled, somewhat sheepish, “This is like the third time I’ve met you, and my roommate still doesn’t believe me. Didn’t take my word for it the first time, didn’t believe the picture I took the second time, but now that I’m in this one, he’ll have no choice but admit it.” Cub ended the sentiment sounding deeply pleased with himself, and that.. well. That made a little more sense. That was fine though, Scar wasn’t deeply wounded or anything that Cub didn’t actually want a picture with him just to have it. All good. Normal feelings.

“Well, if they don’t believe you, I’ll march right over there and tell them myself,” Scar joked, somewhat halfheartedly, but Cub didn’t seem to notice.

“Thanks. I’ll tell him that. Bye, HotGuy.” Cub waved, then kept walking, a look on his face that Scar hoped was contentment. Preferably, it’d be something like awe, admiration, or some amount of being utterly starstruck, but contentment would have to do. Hopefully next time, Cub would at least recognize him.

Part (all) of Scar hoped he and Cub would look back at the same time, catching each other’s eye in a moment of romantic tension, but after looking back several times, Scar was pretty sure Cub was just not looking in the first place, and then certain when he started to walk backwards to make sure. Cub didn’t turn around once.

That was fine. That was okay. Scar would win him over eventually- no- tomorrow. Tomorrow at noon, Scar would win him over. Cool! Great! Everything was cool and great. Up until, still walking backwards, he ran into someone else, a clawed hand wrapping firmly around his neck.

“It’s rude to leave a guy hanging, HotGuy, did you know? Or do you just not care. You don’t have to answer, I already know.”

“CuteGuy!” Scar half laughed, forcing as much energy into his tone as he could possibly manage, “It’s getting late, you know. I’m tired, aren’t you tired? You know, we’ve already fought tonight, and you bested me fair and square, so how about I give you a deal?”

CuteGuy’s talons tightened around Scar’s neck, the villain clicking his tongue, “I’ll humor you.”

“You won, you won, definitely not unfairly by ambushing me for zero reason, and I respect you CuteGuy, I respect you. So here’s the deal. You beat me, so tonight and tonight only, you do whatever you want, beat the piss out of whoever for whatever petty slight they committed against you like twenty years ago, and I’ll turn the other way. Won’t give you a single bit of grief! Like it never happened. A generous offer, CuteGuy, one I don’t extend to just anyone. An offer you can’t refuse, truly.”

CuteGuy hummed, and Scar felt his breath close to his ear. It took everything in him not to scoff, but CuteGuy didn’t keep him waiting long for an answer.

“You’re right. That is an offer I can’t refuse. You have a deal, HotGuy. You have a deal.”

“Great! So let's put the claws away then, shall we?”

“Mhm!” CuteGuy released his hold on Scar’s neck, and Scar rubbed it with his own hand, sighing at the pinpricks of blood. That grip would probably leave a mark tomorrow. Well, nothing a little makeup couldn't fix. But something clicked at his back, and Scar felt the absence of his bow right before he was kicked to the ground, yelping as he fell hard to his knees.

“What-”

“Take a guess which idiot I have a vendetta against tonight, HotGuy?” CuteGuy played with Scar’s bow for a moment before tossing it carelessly in the other direction, and Scar was beginning to get a pretty good idea of exactly who CuteGuy was angry with.

…

“Look. See? It’s me and him, super close to our apartment.” Cub held up his phone so Grian could see it, the other taking it from Cub’s hands and examining the picture with so much scrutiny, he almost looked like he was glaring. Something sly crept up Grian’s face after a moment, and he pointed decisively at the photo, tapping the screen with a talon.

“Photoshopped.”

“What?”

“As much as you claim not to care about heroes and villains, you sure do seem awfully insistent on convincing me you’ve met HotGuy. What is this, three times now? Come on, Cub. This is getting sad.” Grian cackled as Cub gaped, giving his roommate a hard shove before snatching his phone back.

“I can’t believe you.”

“I can’t believe you! Especially when you’re this desperate!”

“I am not desperate. You’re either insane, or fucking with me. At this point, I’m pretty sure you’re fucking with me.”

“I’m pretty sure you’ve got some secret obsession with HotGuy. What gives? I thought we agreed we hated that guy; total arrogant piece of shit if you ask me. Complete idiot.”

“He’s not that bad.”

“Cub! I can’t believe you!” Grian crossed his arms, turning away with a huff, but Cub only laughed, tucking his phone back in his pocket.

“Hey, you can be nice and an idiot. Listen, I understand you’re jealous and all, but rest assured, he told me if you didn’t believe me this time, he’d march right up here and tell you himself. You’ll get all the HotGuy you’ve been missing out on.”

“I am going to pretend you didn’t say that.”

“Have fun pretending, then. I’ll see him at work today, so I’ll make sure to let him know you’re just dying to see him.”

“You- you’re what?”

“Yup. He broke his visor, or CuteGuy did at least. Told him I’d get him a new one if he put in a good word with my manager. You know she loves that guy.”

“I-You-” Cub wasn’t exactly sure what the expressions flashing across Grian’s face meant, but he managed to stop spluttering for long enough to say, “You are not allowed to make friends with HotGuy.”

“Uh, sure, I don’t think it’ll be hard. Don’t think he’s short on friends.”

Again, an odd expression crossed Grian’s face, but Cub dismissed it as one of Grian’s Moments; which is to say, exactly what he was in therapy for. To get a handle on the anger, reduce the frequency of flare ups at odd times, all that jazz. For now, best to change the subject.

“See any cool stars while you were out last night? It was pretty cloudy, so I didn’t really get much on the walk home.”

“Oh, right,” Grian relaxed, looking momentarily embarrassed, but the rest of their conversation was pleasant, Cub smoothing out the feathers on Grian’s wings so he wouldn’t have to do it himself. Lots of things tended to set him off, and embarrassment about getting worked up was a big contributor. Best to let him know he didn't have anything to feel bad about, not around Cub.

#hermitcraft #hermitfic #hermitcraft fic #gtws #goodtimeswithscar #hotguy #grian #cuteguy #cubfan #cubfan135 #hermitshipping #convex #cubscar #if you squint there’s also scarian and grub here #im squinting

53 notes · View notes

stevenose · 7 months

Text

throwing my own “consensually fucked instead of given a ticket” gator fic into the ring (gender unspecified reader, no pronouns used). i hate this man and i wish i was immune to his actor but alas..

the red and blue lights in your rear view have your eyes rolling. you signal right, and pull off to the side of the road. the crunch of gravel makes you wince. you don’t fish for your registration, or ID. you’re sure the man that pulled you over doesn’t care to see them.

you watch him approach in the left side mirror. his hair isn’t slicked back like it usually is. he walks with his hands stuffed in the pockets of his navy bomber jacket, thick denim hugging his thighs. a pair of brown laced-up boots hit hard on the pavement before he makes it to your window. a flashlight suddenly shines in your face.

“c’mon, gator,” you huff, batting it out of the way and gritting your teeth when he grins boyishly. “and what’s my crime tonight, huh?”

“you were speeding,” he drawls, leaning on your window frame and bending down to see you.

“everyone speeds on this road.”

“ain’t you always bitchin’ about how cops never do their jobs? now you’re gonna bitch at me for trying?”

you sigh and blink at him, eyeing him up. “you must be really lonely tonight, gator.”

he always seems so taken aback when you call him out on it. his face hardens in an instant, though. “lonely?”

“that’s why you pulled me over, right? so you didn’t have to sit in your cruiser alone with your right hand shoved down your pants?”

brown eyes narrow. “you know i don’t need that attitude.”

you know he loves it. in the same way you love when he manhandles you exactly where he wants before sending you on your way again with his cum leaking down your thighs. ways that are intensely private, never to be shared out loud with anyone, including each other.

“what do you need, then?”

“a license and registration.”

you laugh, eyes wide. “no fucking way are you giving me a ticket.”

“license and registration,” he repeats, fingers drumming on metal. he’s growing irritated.

“absolutely not, gator. you’re not fining me for going - what? fifty-five in a fifty?”

he leans in, his nose nearly touching the tip of yours. you lean back slightly, your eyes wildly trying to find a place to land.

“you know goddamn well not to argue with me.”

your lips twitch upwards. “you know goddamn well i’m not paying a fine.”

rocks dig into your knees as he shoves you down on the side of the highway. the sharp pain is hard to ignore, though it’s certainly a good punishment. your fingernails dig into your palms, clenched behind your back in a pair of handcuffs. before you, gator unbuckles his pants with one hand while the other grips your hair.

“you gonna say sorry?” he asks, a single thick brow cocked.

“fuck you,” you say giddily, eyes trained on his cock, which gator’s just freed. you haven’t seen it in at least two weeks, and to be truthful, you missed it. it’s so long it curves up at the top, and your lips already hurt while looking at how fat it is.

“i think you do this on purpose,” he sighs, fisting his cock in front of your lips. a clear bead of precum falls from the head. “‘s like my cock’s your boyfriend, huh?”

you glare up at him, offended. “shut up.”

his hand tugs your head back and he pushes the head of it up to your lips. “want me to make you?”

gator gives you no time to adjust because he knows you don’t need it. but it’s been a minute, so you gag harshly, tears spilling from your eyes. your hands move to his thighs, gripping them, but gator slaps them away. “on your own thighs, y-you fucking cocksleeve.”

you’re so horny it hurts. you swirl your tongue around his cock, salty precum making your mouth water. drool puddles in thick strings down your chin and onto your legs. gator gasps and groans above you, occasionally doubling over and shoving your nose directly against his pelvis. he makes a pained noise, waiting til you squirm before whining high pitched when he lets you off.

“kiss it,” he urges, pulling out of your mouth. he’s speechless as he watches you make out with his shaft before doing the same with his balls. “oh, jesus christ. you’ve got the best fuckin’ throat in town ‘n ‘s all mine, ain’t it?”

you shake your head because you want to see what else he’d do.

“mhm,” he hums, like he expected that. “you’re still p-payin’ the ticket.”

#stevenose posts #ns/fw #🐊

119 notes · View notes

headkiss · 2 years

Note

Hello! I love your fics <3 I’m someone that suffers from constant headaches, of varying degree a bunch. When I’m out in public, the best thing I’ve found to relieve some pain is to lay my head on something (my arms, a jacket, someone’s shoulder) with my eyes closed so that light doesn’t make it worse. So can we have a lil hurt/comfort fluffy Steve noticing the reader having a headache cause the kids are being a lil too rowdy or something and helping them out

hi lovely!!!! thank you for the request <33 i also am very prone to headaches so i really enjoyed writing this and getting some comfort from our beloved steve ❤️‍🩹

Headaches were not fun. But, you were used to it. You got them when things were loud, overwhelming. Steve knew it, and he tried to take care of you every time. He wished he could just take the pain from you, give it to himself so you didn’t have to deal with it.

That wasn’t possible, though.

You loved the kids, really, you did. They were sweet, goofy, and such good people. Even after everything you’d all been through, they stayed good the best they could. They stuck together.

Today, you were all hanging out around Steve’s pool. Cannon balls and popsicles melting leaving drops behind on the pavement. It was hot and it was the relief of summer. A fresh start after everything.

You were having fun, despite the loud volume and the business of the day. It was a recipe for one of your headaches, and you knew that.

Steve knew it too, and he was keeping a close eye on you. Searching for pain on your face or a hand rubbing at your forehead. He asked you time and time again if you would be okay today, if you were sure everyone coming over wouldn’t be too much.

You were sitting on one of the lounge chairs, watching your friends swim around with a fond smile. Steve got out of the pool, beads of water dripping off of tanned skin and a hand pushing his hair out of his face.

He walked over to where you were sitting, leaning in with his hands on either side of you and planting a kiss on your lips. One, two, three soft pecks before he pulled away and sat down in the chair next to yours. Not before pushing it over so it was directly against where you sat.

“You guys are so gross!” Dustin loved to tease the two of you, but you could all tell he actually really liked seeing both of you happy. He looked at you and Steve like older siblings, mentors.

“Love you too, Dusty!” You yelled back at him, causing him to groan at the nickname. The kids laughed at the antics, adding on with impressions of you and Steve and it was great. It was light and fun and exactly what you all needed.

Until, it wasn’t.

You had hoped today would be a lucky day, headache free. You felt it hit after a game of marco polo started. The constant yelling and chatter mixed with the heat was getting to you.

You grabbed your water bottle that sat on the ground next to you and took a couple big gulps, trying to stay hydrated the best you could.

Steve tilted his head over so he could look at you, hand reaching for yours and holding it softly.

“You okay, pretty?”

“Mhm. Heads starting to hurt a bit.”

“Do you need anything? Ice or something?”

“No, no. I’ll be fine, Stevie.”

“You don’t have to pretend. You can tell me.”

It wasn’t like you were ashamed, you just hated needing to be doted on so often. As much as you loved the attention and the sweetness of Steve, it just sucked.

Steve hated seeing you in any amount of pain, big or small. He always wanted to be there for you through it, though. That’s what he was doing right now. His thumb trailing back and forth over your knuckles and his focus solely on you.

You turned to look at him, too. Eyes locking and small smiles shared.

“It hurts, but it’s been worse.”

“Okay, that’s good. Wanna lay with me?”

“Won’t you overheat?”

“I’ll risk getting mild heat exhaustion for you, pretty.”

“How romantic.”

“C’mon.”

He scooched closer to you, wiggling his shoulder so you knew it was okay to lay your head there. He knew it’s what helped you, that being able to just lean on him and shut your eyes was the best medicine. Steve couldn’t deny that it made him feel good, being the one you turned to.

You scooched over, too. Keeping your hands intertwined and laying your head down on his shoulder, closing your eyes to try and relax the best you could.

Steve reached over with his free hand, brushing your hair off your forehead and planting a small kiss there. Healing you with his touch, it seemed. He could almost feel you melt into him, body relaxing and tension escaping. You were so cute and pretty and he never wanted you to be in pain.

“Love you, pretty girl.”

“I love you, Stevie. Thank you for this.”

“You know I love being your pillow.”

You giggled at his little comment. Then, you breathed him in, one deep inhale and exhale. It was nice, you thought. Nice to be here with your favorite people and getting some relief with your love next to you.

Somehow, you even fell asleep there. Letting Steve’s presence and comfort lull you into a nap. It was a perfect day, even with the little obstacle of a headache.

#steve harrington #steve harrington x reader #steve harrington fic #steve harrington x you #steve harrington fanfic #steve harrington imagines #steve harrington x y/n #stranger things #stranger things fic #steve harrington fluff #stevie blurbs #steve harrington requests #steve harrington one shot

413 notes · View notes

kylowritten · 11 months

Text

Why Me?

Pairings: Phillip Altman x F!Reader

Summary/Excerpt: "There's a litany of things you never thought you would do, one of them being returning to your home town to attend your high school reunion. Next on the list: falling in love with Phillip Altman."

Warnings: cussing, recreational drug use, talking about sex, making out, partial nudity

Word Count: 2.8k

A/N: The title of this should actually be "Why is Adam Driver so Fucking Adorable"

This fic is a part of the prompt exchange with @juniperwoodwell

There's a litany of things you never thought you would do, one of them being returning to your home town to attend your high school reunion.

"It's not a setback," you tell your reflection. "It's just a...readjustment."

The woman in the mirror hardly looks convinced. But you promptly ignore her, grab your purse, and head out the door to meet your Uber. You aren't so desperate as to rectify the failing relationship with your mother by asking her for a place to stay — God, you couldn't even imagine the state of your childhood bedroom — so you rented the cheapest motel room that you could find.

The door swings shut behind you and the sound of your heels on the weed-clotted pavement joins in with the symphony of cicadas. Humidity presses against you like an unwelcome embrace from an elderly relative. Flippantly, you think that you should've packed a travel size hairspray, or deodorant into your purse, but your thoughts have been far away from appearances and personal hygiene.

You had one thing on your mind.

You clarify that the driver is here for you, and climb into the backseat. An old country song floats through the speakers. You're barely out of the Motel 8 parking lot before trepidation fills you — high school wasn't a grand experience (but was it for anyone?). As soon as you flung your cap on the air, you swore you would never come back. So why were you now?

The car abruptly halts at the side of a curb. You look up from your phone, which you've had nervously clasped on your lap, tapping away meaninglessly. The houses that surround you are distinctly suburban, nice, but not overly so, like most of the neighborhoods here.

"What's going on?" You ask. "I need to go to the high school."

The driver meets your gaze in the rearview mirror. "I'm picking up another rider."

"What? No, I didn't want Uber pool."

"Sorry, kid," the driver replies. "I'm the only Uber in town, and everyone is going to the same place."

Great, you think, sinking back in your seat. Not only were you going to have company, but it was going to be some chum from your class. Worst case scenarios run through your head: an ex boyfriend? The mean girl? But a surprising warmth forms in the pit of your stomach when the new rider flings open the door and crouches down to get inside. "Shit, fuck," the rider declares as they hit their head on the car.

Then, rather ungracefully, Philip Altman folds himself into the backseat besides you.

He doesn't realize who you are until he's finished rearranging his long legs and muscular form, barely succeeding in making himself comfortable in the backseat of the car. You're staring at him when he finally glances your way, and a blush dusts your cheek as his eyes light up. "Is that you? In the flesh?"

"I know, I'm surprised too," you say.

"What are you doing here?" He excitedly asks, then shakes his head. "Don't answer that, I know why. I guess I just didn't think that you were the reunion type."

You raise a brow. "And what type would I be?"

"You know," he said, as if you did. He jostles your side in a companionable fashion. When you don't register what he's implying, a look of shock takes over his handsome features. "What? The hot girl? You seriously don't know."

You fix him with an incredulous look. "C'mon, Phillip."

He holds up both of his hands defensively. "I'm being completely honest. I swear on my father's grave, bless his soul," he adds, then tilts his head. "Can you still swear on people's graves?"

"I heard about that," you say, softly. "I'm so sorry."

"Thank you." A look passes over his face, one that you can't quite read, disappearing quickly. "Fortunately, I have coping mechanisms. Adult ones."

He pulls something from his back pocket: a joint.

You glance at the driver, then Phillip. "I haven't..." you trail off, gesturing with your hands, "since high school."

Amusement flickers across his face. "We're going to our high school reunion, don't you want to reunite with something else?"

You order the driver to drop you off a few blocks away from the high school. Phillip grabs your hand and tugs you out of the car, throwing a "thank you" over his shoulder. You're both giggling as you find an alleyway to duck into, an uncontainable smile unfurling on your mouth as Phillip strikes up his lighter.

He takes a long drag, then hands it to you. You fumble with it. "Do I even remember how to do this?" You ask, to no one in particular.

Phillip grins at you, smoke streaming steadily from his mouth. "It's like riding a bike," he remarks. "Except the bike is made out of smoke and the road is made out of good times."

He finishes this intelligent analogy right as you bring the joint to your lips and inhale. You snort and then choke on your laughter, and then on the smoke, inducing a coughing fit that is not at all remedied by Philip's own howls of laughter. "Dumbass," you say, swatting his arm.

You snatch the joint back from him once you're satisfied that your coughing fit is over. The weed hits your lungs, pungent and powerful, and you can feel the tension begin to melt from your body. You tilt your head back and gratuitously blow out the smoke, watching as it rises into the air, twisting and turning. When you look back at Phillip to proffer the joint again, he's already staring at you. It's in this moment that you remember all of the rumors in high school.

Although you didn't necessarily run in the same circles, you saw each other at the occasional party or school function. The rumor then was that he was an apologetic flirt and playboy, hopping from one eager girl to the next.

The rumor didn't matter to you in high school, you had your own shit to figure out.

But now, looking at him, illuminated in the hazy dusk light, there's a tightening in your stomach that high school you had never acted on.

Smoke breezes past your face as Phillip exhales, drawing you from your trance. His brows pull downwards. "Everything okay, kid?"

"Yeah. Perfect," you tell him. You pause. "Can I tell you the real reason I'm here tonight?"

He feigns offense. "You mean it wasn't to smoke some shitty weed with me in a dark alley like a couple of prepubescent hoodlums?"

This brings a smile to your face, but you ignore him. "Promise you won't laugh." Phillip makes the motion of crossing his heart. Taking another drag and summoning your courage, you tell him, "I never had sex in high school. So I thought that by coming back I could fuck someone from high school and it would kind of, like, settle the score."

"Oh." Philip's lips twitch with barely retrained amusement.

"You said you wouldn't laugh!" You tell him. "It's stupid, I know."

"I don't think it's that stupid," he assures you. "There's some people who genuinely want to relive their high school days and reconnect with their peers."

He says this as if it ranks only just below murdering a bunch of baby orphans.

"I guess," you say. You feel relieved to have said it out loud, like Phillip was a priest and you were confessing your sins to him. When he changes the topic, reserving his judgement if he had any, it only solidifies your trust in him.

You waste almost half an hour, smoking and swapping stories about your lives since high school. You thought, going into tonight, that you would have to embellish yourself and your achievements, but you didn't feel that need with Phillip. He made you feel safe. Worthy. It was an excellent precursor to the reunion; you no longer felt nervous, and upon realizing that you were going to be unfashionably late, Phillip pinches the top of the joint and shoves it back into his pocket before once again seizing your hand. Another thing to add to the litany of things you never thought you would do: run giggling, hand in hand, with Phillip Altman through the front doors of your high school.

Horribly loud music washes over you as you check in at a table, giving your name to a girl that you don't even remember. Quickly, you scribble down your name on a name tag and slap it on your chest. Phillip snickers as he scribbles something down, sharpie scratching against the material. He proudly slaps it on his chest.

It reads: Phillip Assman.

The girl at the front table makes a face.

You, however, find it absolutely hilarious.

Philip eventually ushers you away, still cackling, as more last-minute people trickle in through the door. He grabs your shoulders and directs you into the gym where the reunion is actually being held. Streamers with your school colors are taped limply on the walls. Several high-top tables occupy the gym floor, most of them crowded around by former students deep in conversation. There's a bar on one side of the gym, and a DJ booth on the other.

You open your mouth to ask Phillip if he wants a drink, right as he's flagged down by someone standing around one of the tables. You don't recognize them. He waves and moves as if to join them, but stops and addresses you, "I'll be right back."

You watch him leave, ignoring the small kernel of disappointment inside you.

Whatever, you think. It's not like you came together. He was just a guy that had the same Uber with you and you shared a joint. Not a big deal.

Straightening your shoulders, you turn on your heel and march over to the bar.

Alcohol, as it turns out, is a wonderful crutch for social interactions. You drift awkwardly through the gym, catching up with a few people whose friendship have gradually eroded over time, and pretending to be enjoying yourself. Your high helped, clinging to you like a weed-fueled security blanket. But you maintained a vague impression that you made a mistake coming here.

No one had magically gotten more attractive or interesting in the years since you graduated. There was one guy from your freshman algebra class that you bumped into while waiting in line for the bathroom, a guy who you probably would've totally fucked under different circumstances. But your mind kept wandering, and you ended up making up some half-ass excuse and scurrying away from his blatant attempts at flirting.

Because, infuriatingly enough, you only had one guy on your mind.

Unhappy with this realization, you quickly do your business and then hightail it for the parking lot. You're embarrassed that you even came, you're embarrassed about why you came, and you're embarrassed that - not unlike a high school girl - you can't stop thinking about the stupidly good-looking guy you interacted with for only a few moments. "Idiot," you mumble to yourself, pushing your shoulder into the door and stepping outside.

The cold sobers you up considerably, and you ditch the red solo cup you'd been carrying for the last hour or so. You needed to just go back to your motel. In the morning, you could forget that this ever happened and erase Phillip Altman from your mind.

"Hey, where are you going?"

You stop and turn, your heart pumping out a traitorous rhythm as Phillip emerges from the front doors and jogs over to you. Fuck, how did he manage to even look good in the shitty glow from the streetlights? He shoves his hands in his pockets.

"You're not leaving, are you?" He glances over your head, scanning the lawn as if expecting to discover a reason for your departure, then back to you. "Come out here to puke or something? Those bushes right over there are --"

"No," you interrupt, sharper than you intend. You sigh, and try to soften your voice. "I shouldn't have come here. I-I'm going home. Well, not home, but my motel room."

You're rambling. And you're aware that you're rambling, but it's doing nothing to deter it.

"You can't leave," he says.

You arch a brow. "What? Why not?"

He withdraws the joint from his pocket, which admittedly looks a little more crumpled than the last time you'd seen it. "This joint is legally binding. You have to finish it with me."

"Or?"

He shrugs. "We probably shouldn't find out. You know, just in case."

"Phillip -"

"We could go back to your room," he says. Recovering, he adds, "If that's okay. Or even that dark alley. It was warm and inviting, not to mention sanitary. We could go back there."

You smother your grin. It's not fair, that you've just reconnected with this man who you knew only in the abstract before, but now have become utterly transfixed by him. He has a magnetism about him that you can't ignore.

You feel yourself thawing. "What about all of your friends?" You ask, gesturing towards the school. "You can't just leave them."

Phillip makes a face. "Who cares?" He grabs your hand - did he do that a lot? Grabbing hands randomly? - and hauls you to the curb, where he expertly flags down an awaiting Uber driver. "M'lady," he says, as he holds the door to the backseat open for you.

The drive back to the motel is spent with you discreetly (read: not discreetly) sharing the joint and blowing the smoke out the cracked window. Your Uber driver seems less than impressed with you by the time you tumble out, but Phillip assuages your poor behavior with a generous tip. The heady combination of alcohol and weed, and Philip, fuels you.

There's no saying who makes the first move -- your mind is swimming with elation from your company. But it happens sometime between the car pulling away from the curb and reaching the room of your motel. Phillip pushes you up against the side of the building, peppering your neck with kisses and whispering dirty things in your ear as you fumble for the key card. He feels so warm and comfortable and secure, and you desperately want to undress him, to explore him with your hands and your mouth and discover what he's like as he unravels.

The door clicks as your key card finally registers. "Finally," Phillip all but growls.

You squeak as he lifts you up, wrapping your legs around his waist as he nudges the door open with his foot and marches you inside. You're both still giggling like kids between desperate, hungry kisses, his hands reaching under your shirt and your hand disappearing beneath the waistband of his jeans.

It's only when you're both left in your underwear that Phillip pauses.

You look up at him. He hovers over where you lay, sprawled out on the bed. He's infuriatingly, devastatingly handsome, even when traces of doubt line his features.

"What's wrong?" You ask. "Is everything okay?"

Philip's mouth opens then shuts, as if deciding on what to say. "Why me?"

"What?"

"Why me?" He repeats, in no way clarifying himself. Phillip quickly elaborates, "You said that you went to the reunion just so that you could fuck someone from high school."

You struggle to find a response. "Why not you?"

"I mean, is this--" he waves his hand as if hoping to magically conjure the words that he's searching for, "--is this just nothing? I mean, I'm fine if you want to just settle some score and use me for my body but I'd like to know so I can charge you afterward."

His tone is nonchalant, light hearted, but there's a vulnerability lurking below.

You sit up on your elbows. It's difficult to address him like this, when his naked torso is practically staring at you in the face. It would be difficult for anyone to concentrate. But you want to be serious, truthful, because you found something in Phillip tonight that you have never found in anyone else. It was too early to call it love, of course, but there was a deeper connection that you would be foolish to so hastily get rid of.

"I'm not saying that I wouldn't whore you out," you tell him, "but I can promise that I don't want to do this for some dumb reasoning. I mean, sure, that's why I came here tonight, but I didn't expect to meet you." This admission sounds highly cliche, and it brings a blush to your face. "What I'm trying to say is--"

Phillip interrupts you with a goofy smile. "Say no more."

There's a litany of things you never thought you would do, one of them being returning to your home town to attend your high school reunion. Next on the list: falling in love with Phillip Altman.

#phillip altman #phillip altman x reader #this is where i leave you #why me?#fanfic #ADCU #writers #writers on tumblr

59 notes · View notes

royalsunshinehotel · 2 months

Note

first of all i love your writing. my request is maybe something inspired by ABBA's waterloo?? lmao it's such a catchy song. could be jay, joshua or anwar?

Anwarterloo (Anwar x DWTS! Reader)

A/N: In this fic, Anwar is on Dancing With The Stars, and is partnered with the reader. This one is short because I am buzzing.

"Waterloo?? By ABBA??? Who did you kill to get that song?" shouted Keo as your friend twirled you around. The dance had been electric, Anwar was on his game, he'd somehow hit all his steps and never lost a moment of his elegance that kept people tuning in to see the two of you.

The air was buzzing. Against all odds, you'd gotten your little lanky diva to the semi-finals of this latest season. And your first season as a pro dancer to boot! GOD!!!

In your many years as a dancer, you'd been able to figure out what your most comfortable version of 'poise' looked like.

"How's the ankle?" Asked your partner as he put an arm around your waste. You'd been struggling the past few weeks, and he'd covered for you, flawlessly.

It was odd to have a man be helpful for a chance. In your city, men were usually pretty accessories, they were rarely productive. It didn't bode well. Dancing this much was too hard on your body, these feelings for Anwar made your brain hurt.

He's beautiful, next to you, silvery shirt open.

You don't want to be on TV, you want to bite his neck like a rabid dog.

Anwar could feel your eyes on him, but he's an Oscar-nominated actor, he can conceal things for a little bit longer. Season was almost over, Anwar knew you were barely hanging on, and the fist of his sparkly open shirt told him exactly how your joints felt.

His felt the same. His studio said he needed to do this as a promotion as a biopic. It was never supposed to get this far!!

Why, oh why, did he have to be naturally good at everything, he could with this fucking thing. Maybe his bones would pop out before then. How did people do dance as a job?

"Ugh, Americans," he thinks.

You take a moment to exhale, as the couples before you are called out on to the stage for the elimination ceremony.

"Arten, Taylor, Anwar, YN, You're our last couples tonight. We're letting American decide," Alfonso Ribero nods solemly at the audience and it's so deeply difficult not to hide your face behind your hands.

"Excuse me, Alfonso, I've got something to say!"

"Oh, yeah Anwar? What's that?" He's such a good sport, Alfonso was a perfect host for this show.

"I've reached my peak with dancing. I'd rather take my leave from Dancing With The Stars knowing I did my best, and that I'd rather be eating." Alfonso hides a laugh behind his hand.

"Taylor is the better dancer, anyone with eyes can tell, and I'd rather be taking this one out on a date. You promised when the season was over..." Your partner gives you the saddest, most large, wet eyes you could ever imagine, and it squeezes all the breath out of your lungs.

"Oh... yes!" You answer, blinking at him, asking 'Where are you going with this?' Dinner with Anwar, had you ever actually seen him eat?

"She said yes, so America, don't vote for me, I'm going to Five Guys because I'm tired!!" You roll your eyes in full view of the camera, hoping that the teens on Twitter could capture what on earth your Anwar was doing!

"Taylor, you're a dear friend," Taylor blew him a kiss, smiling, and he bowed, "goodnight everyone!"

The audience stands, for someone self-aware. As far as you were concerned, such charisma should be banned within city limits!

"You're ridiculous!" You cry, laughing as Anwar sees fit to pick you up like a bride, and sweep you off the fucking ballroom floor. Good riddance, it's time for something else.

You close your eyes, leaning into your chest as lights flash. The night is temperate, bordering on a light chill, and you stood on the pavement with your ass practically out in your leotard. This LA thing was for the birds, how did people do this?

"I am so proud of you. And thanks for that." You reach up and kiss his bearded cheek, as he plants you firmly on the sidewalk. The car you had waiting was going to take you to five guys. Whatever it was between the two of you had to be addressed, and you've got more than enough time now.

#dev patel #anwar kharral #anwar x reader #short and sweet

12 notes · View notes

darkficsyouneveraskedfor · 7 months

Text

All the Good Girls Go To Hell 20

Warnings: this fic will include dark content such as dubcon/noncon, obsession, power imbalance, injury, and other possible triggers. My warnings are not exhaustive, enter at your own risk.

This is a dark!fic and explicit. 18+ only. Your media consumption is your own responsibility. Warnings have been given. DO NOT PROCEED if these matters upset you.

Summary: You come home for the summer but your break is not as relaxing as you expect.

Character: Bucky Barnes, Steve Rogers

Note: Friday! (again)

As per usual, I humbly request your thoughts! Reblogs are always appreciated and welcomed, not only do I see them easier but it lets other people see my work. I will do my best to answer all I can. I’m trying to get better at keeping up so thanks everyone for staying with me <3

Your feedback will help in this and future works (and WiPs, I haven’t forgotten those!)

Love you all. Take care. 💖

It takes until noon to get yourself together. The world around you feels disconnected and hazy, beyond your reach. You just want to hide from the chaos your life has become, but you know you can't do that. Bucky says as much, telling you to take it all in small steps. The first; get your car.

You slump in the passenger seat of Bucky's range rover, arms folded over your fraught stomach. Never again. It's never worth it, even if it lets you forget. You just have to remember it all the next day, all while feeling shitty as hell.

He pulls up in front of Harry's house and you slowly sit forward to look around him. You gulp and fish out your keys, the jingle making you wince. You blow out a breath and undo your seat belt.

"Should I come with you, doll?" He offers, one hand on the wheel.

You look at him. His long hair is draw back into a ponytail at the back of his head, a few strands dangle loose to his chin. His square jaw is speckled with dark stubble and few patches of silver. His steely blue eyes shine as his plain white tee and blue jeans offer a perfect canvas for his easy allure. The way he looks at you makes it hard not to notice how handsome he is.

"No, no, I'll just go get my car and follow you back to your place. Should be easy."

You pull the door handle before you can lose your nerve. You're grateful for Bucky's help but you need to do this on your own. He can't coddle you and you can't expect everything from him. You don't want to be in this situation ever again; cast out and lost.

You get out and gently shut the door. You round the front of the tall rover and push your glasses up your nose. You cross the street, tucking your hands in your pockets as you keep your shoulders curled and head down. You cross the pavement and head up the tarmac, stopping short as you catch sight of your car.

Your mouth falls open as you gape at the mess strewn across it. Shaving cream streaks the hood and roof, toilet paper draped over it in tangled strips, and eggs smashed into the worn paint. As you get closer, you notice the only blank patch is keyed with the words 'dumb bitch'. You stare stunned at the desecration of your only possession.

You shake your head and don't look up at the house. You can guess it was probably Harry and his friends. This is the type of stuff the got up to in high school and these people made it clear that you're an outsider.

You near the car and grab a few strips of toilet paper, pulling them off and wadding them up as you try to wipe off the yolk and half-melted cream. Some of it's caked on after sitting for at least half the night. You sigh and focus on just tearing the tissue off. You can hit a car wash but you don't know what you'll do about the scratches.

As you scrape off what you can, you hear a door and sense a shadow. Harry's laughter rattles in the afternoon sun and you ignore him as you toss clumps of cream and toilet paper onto the ground. You unlock the door and he catches it from the outside, holding it in place.

"Do you get the hint now?" He asks darkly.

"Leave me alone," you tug on the door and it doesn't budge.

"Naomi is better than you. You're just some stupid nerd who doesn't know her place. The only reason Peter was interested is because he wants to make MJ jealous--"

"I don't care--"

"You're too boring for her," he sneers, "so better go off back to your corner and cry, little girl."

"Frig off," you spit at him, "and let go!"

You try to jerk the door away and he just snickers again. You bear your teeth in frustration and roll your eyes. If he wants you gone, why won't he let you go?

"She helped. The eggs were her idea," he taunts. You don't care if she did or not, her loyalties are clear enough. You saw them last night.

"Hey," Bucky's voice rips through your standoff and you turn as he storms up the driveway. "Back up, jackass."

"Jesus Christ, not this geezer," Harry snarls.

"Yes, this geezer," Bucky barks, "go inside before I show you what an old man can do."

"Whatever, bro."

"Whatever," Bucky stomps past you and stops only inches from Harry, looming over him, "I'm up for whatever you choose, boy."

Harry huffs and curls his lip. He raises his hands and takes a step back, "you're not worth the trouble."

"Sure," Bucky keeps his shoulder in front of you, blocking you in, "go on and run back to your posse of dumbasses."

Harry waves him off and turns on his heel, slides flopping under him as he tramps like a toddler back to the house. You shudder and look at Bucky as he turns to you. He rests his hand on the top of the door.

"You alright, doll?" He softens his tone.

"Yeah, fine, he's just dumb."

"Mm," he looks past you, "assholes. Let's get this thing cleaned up and--" He pauses and shifts away, bending to examine the message etched into the paint, "hmmmmm," he growls, "good thing I know how to buff this stuff out." He stands straight, hands on his hips, his pose accentuating his chest and biceps, "you want me to drive this thing till we get it washed or--"

"No, no, it's okay," you murmur, "I just wanna get out off here."

"Sure thing," he tries to smile but his cheek ticks as his eyes drift angrily to the house, "don't let appearances fool you, there people are trash."

🌞

When you get back to Bucky's, he unfolds a lawn chair and points you to it. There's little argument to be had as his anger has you tongue-tied. You know it's not directed at you but you can feel it steaming off of him. You've never been good at handling that sort of emotion, especially from others.

It's probably for the better. Your head is pounding, even in the shadow of the awning, and you stomach is still wobbly with uncertainty. You rest your chin in your hand as you watch him spraying your car with the nozzle of the hose. As he does, the splash back dampens the front of his tee, the fabric clinging to his stomach as he sneers at his task.

He shut the hose off and grabs the sponge from the bucket, scrubbing at the harder to get patches until has has it mostly clean. He gives it another rinse with hose and rolls it up, dumping the bucket in the grass and dropping the sponge inside. He puts the pail down and sits on the steps, only a foot away from you.

"Sure made a mess of myself," he looks down at his wet shirt, wiping his hands on it before tugging it upwards. He strips it off and shakes it out as you avert your wiley gaze. "I'll buff the side later and it should be fine. Probably have to find somewhere to fix the paint properly, though."

"Thanks, uh, you've really done... enough."

"Shitty," he mutters clutching the shirt in his hand. As he leans an elbow on his knee, your eyes stray to the trim of hair across his broad chest. You hide your wandering gaze and focus on your hands, "I'm sorry she dragged you into all this. Really... and I know I've probably not made it any easier."

"I guess I'm just confused. I don't know what to do with myself. I guess I should keep looking for a job but at this rate, I won't have one until I have to head back to campus. If I even get to go." You exhale shakily, "my parents split tuition but if my mom cuts me off... I don't know what to do."

He nods and gives a thoughtful hum. He sits back and props his elbow on the step behind him, his muscled stomach tugging at your gaze. No, stop.

"I never had kids. Obviously. Always knew I couldn't give them everything I would want to, you know? But if I did, I'd give them everything I could. I just don't get it. I really don't, you're a good girl and they just don't see what's right in front of them," he sucks his teeth, "well, how about..." he stops himself and lets his leg sway one way then the other, "I could offer you a job. You could do some work around the shop. Sweeping up sawdust and stuff but the pay is good."

You nod and chew your lip. It's a nice idea. More than you deserve.

"What... what about..."

"Steve? You let me handle him. Really, he's just a dumbass. Gets carried away. Besides, sounds like he has his hands full with your mom and his wife," he scoffs, "you'll be working with me, not him."

You wiggle your foot, "I don't know..."

"It's your choice but it'll keep you busy and it could help with money problems," he puts his hand flat, "all you have to do is say yes. Oh, and obviously, whatever you decide, you got a place to stay."

You glance up at the house and frown, "I don't... what about Naomi?"

"What about her? If she comes back, same thing for her. She has a room here. I made promises and I don't break those. However she feels about me, I wasn't the one who hit the self-destruct button."

You drop your head, holding it tight as it feels ready to splinter. It's not just your hangover, it's everything else. You squeak and rub your temples with your thumbs.

"You okay?" Bucky leans forward and touches your elbow.

You lift your head gently, "yeah. I just feel awful. That I ever thought you were... bad. After everything, you won't even turn her away."

"She's lost. She's careless but she's young. I only ever wanted to help her, I was just selfish about how," he shrugs and retracts his hand, "but anyway," he stands and touches his lower back, "I think you should go inside, chill out on the couch, and watch some Netflix. I'll get you something nice and greasy to eat for that hangover."

You whimper and give a pathetic smile, "I'm sorry about that," you stand with some effort, "I don't usually drink like that--"

He laughs, "don't apologise," he waves you up the steps ahead of him, "I'm going to start being honest with you so I do need to tell you that it was really cute."

You giggle and shake your head as you reach for the front door. He's fast and extends his arm past you, opening it around you, close, so close you can feel the heat roiling off of him.

"No, it wasn't," you insist.

"It really was," he snorts as he follows you inside, "you get this pout and it's just..." he's quiet as you slip your shoes off, a lull as he weighs his words, "gorgeous."

You chuckle nervously and rub your neck. He clears his throat and toes off his sneakers. He moves around you cautiously, as if fighting not to get any closer.

"I'll go grab my phone and we'll figure out what to order," he mutters, his tone uneven, "you just make yourself at home."

🌞

You feel a bit more stable once you have a good meal in your stomach. Good being a relative term. The greasy cheeseburger and onions rings are hardly nutritious but they are satisfying.

You slurp on your diet coke as you lay with your head up against the armrest and lose yourself in the shallow drama of the reality show personalities. An argument about a dress really is compelling theatre. You put the cup down and hug the cushion to your chest, laughing as a woman storms out, tossing her wine in the process. Wow, and you thought your life was ridiculous.

You yawn and close your eyes. It's getting late. You should probably go to the guest room and try to sleep off the last of your alcoholic regret.

The end of the couch dips and your eyes snap open. Bucky sits just below your feet, tilting his head at the screen. He arches his brow as his eyes search the television. His mouth slants as he looks at you.

"So, why are these women screaming at each other?" He asks.

"Oh, uh, you can change it," you go to sit up but he firmly puts his hand on your ankle.

"No, I'm curious. Genuinely."

"Really, it's just a stupid show--"

"I want to know," he smiles and glances back at the TV, "they are really angry."

"Well, the blonde one borrowed a dress from the brunette and never gave it back but the blonde claims she did and the other woman is lying. And the other blonde is saying she saw the dress in the brunette's closet," you explain and end with a chortle, "it really is nonsense."

He keeps his hand on your ankle, his thumb rubbing through the cotton of your sock. He nods and squints, "the brunette is lying."

"Hmm? How do you know?"

"You can tell," he points with his other hand, his other slipping down your foot. "She keeps looking left."

"Oh?" You look between him and the television, overly aware of his hand. He pushes his thumb into your sole and you groan at the delightful pressure.

"You ticklish?" He wonders as he drags his thumb along your arch, "huh?"

"A little," you confess, "what are you--"

"Just... being nice," he grips your foot as you try to pull away once more, "just lay back. Everyone loves a good foot massage, don't they?"

"I... I wouldn't know," you push yourself up on your elbows and watch him knead your foot, barely withholding a moan. He knows what he's doing. "Never had one before."

"Really? Well, you got a lot of tension right... here," he poke his thumb into you and your squeal. It sends a zing up your leg. "See? I told you, you need to relax. I'm just helping." He grabs your ankle higher up and yanks, just hard enough to have you flat on your back, "sit back and enjoy, doll. You deserve it."

#bucky barnes #dark bucky barnes #dark!bucky barnes #bucky barnes x reader #fic #dark fic #dark!fic #au #steve rogers #dark steve rogers #dark!steve rogers #steve rogers x reader #series #mcu #marvel #avengers #captain america #winter soldier #all the good girls go to hell

406 notes · View notes

extrasfromthevoid · 2 months

Text

Sibling Saga (part 1/5)

@tmntbestsibscompetiton

Raph and Milo have my favorite sibling dynamic because they're both the eldest of the bunch and feel a responsibility to protect their brothers. Milo feels it strongest as the elder sister (and the oracle), but Raph still has that protective brother inclination he has in the canon. It's a bit reduced though since he doesn't have the pressure of being the oldest and biggest, and being the team leader. With Milo in the picture, Raph is just the biggest.

For Raph, Milo is like...his personal hero. She's strong and kind and always gives it her all to protect them, and Raph wants more than anything to protect Milo back in turn. This is the moment in their childhood that really solidified that for him.

For Milo, Raph is the brother she has the closest bond with. He's her little shadow and someone she trusts to protect their family should she be absent. She adores his bold spirit and how he's unafraid to express his interests and joys. She's also the only one in the family to show any interest in wrestling, so Milo and Raph frequently watch together. Unlike Raph, Milo doesn't have a favorite wrestler as she just enjoys watching the performances and cheering alongside her biggest little brother.

(also, I believe in field-medic!Raph supremacy. He takes the relatively minor/everyday injuries while Leo takes the more in-depth surgical knowledge. If you've got a bad scrape or burn or flesh wound, you go to Raph. If you've got broken bones and potential internal bleeding, you go to Leo)

[fic below cut]

“And stay gone!” Milo shouts, waving her bokken threateningly as the dog runs back down the alley from whence it came.

Her breath comes out in ragged huffs and her left arm stings painfully, but at least the threat is gone.

Exhaling heavily, Milo puts the bokken on her back again and turns back to her brothers. Raph is curled protectively around Mikey, Leo, and Donnie, his spiky shell facing outwards defensively but a noticeable tremble in his shoulders.

“Everyone okay?” She asks, crouching down to them.

Mikey pops out of his shell and nods. “I’m okay.”

Donnie mumbles something Milo can’t quite catch.

"Donnie and I are okay too,” Leo says.

Milo nods. “And you, Raph? You were really taking the brunt of that,” she says, eyeing the sluggishly oozing scratches and the scuffed sections of his shell and shoulders, and a couple of scrapes on his legs from when he hit the ground.

He turns to look her in the eye, about to answer her when his eyes abruptly focus on Milo’s arm. “You’re hurt!”

Glancing down, Milo finds that the aching wound on her arm is a lot more visually distressing than she thought. At some point, the dog had lunged for her face and Milo put her arm up in a rising block to defend. Instead of sinking its sharp teeth into her face, it sunk them into Milo’s forearm. She didn’t think much of it at the time. It hurt, sure, but she could still fight and the threat was still present. So she kept going.

She hadn’t realized it was so deep until now as she watches the blood dribble down her arm, off her fingertips and splatter on the pavement of the alley.

“Oh. It’s okay, Raph. It’s just a scratch,” she says, trying—and clearly failing if her brothers’ expressions are any indication—to hide her profusely bleeding arm.

Raph pivots fully to face her, releasing their other brothers, who are circling, clearly torn between wanting to help and wanting to vomit—mostly the latter in Donnie’s case—though Mikey is visibly on the verge of tears.

Milo hisses a little in pain as Raph pulls her arm out between them to inspect her injury. Her heart breaks a little at the sad whine that comes from her little brother as he gets a clearer look at the damage.

The distant noise of the human city suddenly becomes less distant and Milo is starkly aware of how exposed she and her brothers are.

“Come on. Let’s go!” She hisses, abruptly herding her brothers towards the manhole.

Milo doesn’t relax until all five of them are safely sequestered in the cool dampness of the sewers and out of sight. Leo wastes no time climbing up onto Milo’s back and Donnie onto Raph’s shell with Mikey—the latter a little grumpy about being beat by Leo to his favorite spot, that being Milo’s back.

With the looming danger gone, Milo lets herself relax. However, Raph immediately starts pulling Milo along—thankfully by her uninjured arm.

“Whoa! Raph!” Milo exclaims in surprise.

“We gotta bandage your arm before it gets infected,” Raph stats firmly.

From his perch on Raph’s shell, Donnie nods. “No repeats of The Incident, dear sister,” he declares.

Milo grimaces, thinking of the ugly, puckered scar on her left thigh and the miserable sickness that followed the injury that caused it. Her brothers hadn’t left her side for a month as she’d been bedridden with a high fever, even after she’d recovered thanks to the medicine Dad brought her from the surface.

Admittedly, Milo’s a little surprised they remembered given it was four years ago now, but she’s also quite touched. Still, Milo wishes they wouldn’t worry so much about her. Worrying is supposed to be her job.

Quietly, Milo relents to letting Raph tug her along as Donnie, Leo, and Mikey chat loudly amongst themselves. When they return home, the three youngest dismount from Raph and Milo.

“We’re gonna go tell Dad what happened,” Leo declares.

Donnie goes rigid. “Wait! Leo, maybe Dad doesn’t need to know all of it—!”

He’s gone—Donnie and Mikey on his heels, begging for Leo to minimize their own involvement in the events leading up to their close encounter—before Milo can object, and Raph pulls her towards their designated med bay.

It’s just a small side room, nowhere near as impressive as Baba’s was, but in the years that Milo has lived with Dad, she’s found that none of them need anything near the level that she had with Baba. They’ve got a fairly robust stockpile for dire emergencies like broken bones and cracked shells, but the bulk of their medical supplies are bandages and anti-bacterial salve because that’s most of what they need.

Raph immediately bee-lines for the metal box covered in stickers that sits in the lowest cabinet—well within easy reach for their smaller brothers just in case they need it for whatever reason—and sits on the ground in front of Milo. Silently, she does the same, watching as Raph picks out the salve tube and cotton swabs and gauze wraps from amongst the collection of bandaids and gets to work.

They sit in silence for a while as Raph applies disinfectant and looks over the bite mark on Milo’s forearm.

And then…

“You shouldn’t have done that, sis,” Raph mumbles.

Milo starts. “Huh? Of course I had to do it, Raph!” She protests. “That dog was really mean and it could have hurt you all really badly.”

Raph’s eyes shine wetly. “But you got hurt protecting us…”

“I’m your big sister, Raph,” Milo says quietly as Raph wraps her injury.

“It's my job to protect you. I don’t mind getting a scrape or two out of it.”

His beak scrunches irritably at that, tears spilling from his eyes. “But if you’re protecting us, who’s protecting you?” He asks.

Milo doesn’t have a good answer to that. She doesn’t see herself as someone who needs protecting. She’s supposed to be the one doing the protecting. If there comes a day where that isn’t the case, then that means that Milo isn’t doing her job right.

She’s about to say as much when Raph continues.

“You matter so much to us, Milo. I hate it when you risk yourself like this,” he admits. He wipes his tears on the back of his arm and when he meets Milo’s gaze, it’s with a look of absolute determination. “That’s why Raph’s gonna to protect you right back!”

Milo finds herself chuckling at that. “Okay, sure.”

“I’m serious!” Raph protests, face flushing with his indignation.

“You’ll see! When I’m bigger, I’ll be able to protect all of us, just like you!”

Despite herself, Milo can’t help the warm, fuzzy feeling that blooms in her chest. She smiles fondly at her little brother.

When he wraps her arm, Milo turns the favor right back on him. Raph’s injuries are a lot more superficial than Milo’s but are more numerous. They’re giggling amongst themselves, picking through the selection of novelty bandaids when Dad comes stumbling in, Leo, Mikey, and Donnie shuffling sheepishly behind him.

“Green! Red! Are you both alright?” He exclaims.

Dad doesn’t even wait for them to answer before fretting over them both, looking visibly pained by the deep, still oozing bite wound on Milo’s left arm. Even now, little spots of red peak through the bandage, but not enough to warrant changing it right now. Later, definitely, but it’ll be fine until the bleeding stops completely.

“Oh, Green…”

“It’s alright, Dad,” Milo assures him. “It’s just a flesh wound.”

“Milo…that dog bit you pretty deep…,” Mikey whimpers.

“Yeah! What if you get rabies!” Leo shouts. “Are we gonna have to get you to a human hospital? Rabies is no joke! You’ll die from it!”

Donnie elbows Leo sharply in the side. “Nardo, that dog definitely didn’t have rabies,” he states calmly. “It was just aggressive and poorly trained. Still, our dear sister is at risk of infection. Who knows what that beast put in its mouth before biting her.” Donnie sticks out his tongue at the thought.

Dad exhales shakily and ruffles Milo’s hair, messing up the strands she has tucked behind her green bandana. She laughs, putting up a token protest against the show of affection.

“At least you all are alright,” Dad says.

“Of course we are!” Milo beams. “I’ll always make sure we come home safe.”

Raph shoulders in, pouting. “And I’ll make sure sis comes back too!”

Dad smiles softly, visibly relieved. “I am glad to hear it,” he says.

“Now. You’ve all had a trying day. How about some fruit?”

All five of them cheer, following their dad to the kitchen, and leaving behind the mess of bloodied cotton balls and torn up bandaid wrappers, the ordeal temporarily forgotten.

(But Raph never forgets the oath he made this day. Even if Milo admittedly didn’t take it very seriously, so sure that no matter what happens, her little brother will never have to shoulder her burden of safeguarding their family alone.)

#void’s art #void's writing #rottmnt oc: milo hamato #rottmnt #rise of the teenage mutant ninja turtles #tmnt best siblings competition #raph is definitely the brother that hates milo's habit of bearing the weight of the world on her own the most #he WANTS to help but for the longest time milo doesnt really let him #milo trusts raph to look after their brothers but...not her #in her eyes: SHE'S the one that does the bulk of the protecting and while she knows she cant be everywhere at once--#--milo often forgets herself in that; confident she can power through whatever stands in her way (even tho she doesnt HAVE to)

11 notes · View notes

super-predictable98 · 8 months

Text

The Nightingale Girl (Good Omens AU)

Chapter 1: On a Rainy Day You Can See Forever

Word Count: 2 k

Warning: Strong language, very mild sexual content

a/n: Hello everyone, so as most of you know, English is my second language, so forgive me for any mistakes. I've been so in love with Good Omens lately and I just decided to start a new series. You can all expect more Michael Sheen and David Tennant related fics as well as more chapters in the future. Hope you all enjoy it <3 Oh, and this contains SPOILERS for season 2 of Good Omens

Rain was pouring and Aziraphale was looking through the glass of the front door of the bookshop. Cars would pass by splashing water everywhere and disturbing the mirror puddles on the pavement that reflected the London sky.

What he didn't notice was a young lady approaching the door in a black coat, her hood covered her face nearly entirely, and the only visible parts of her were her mouth and nose.

"Sorry, dear, we're closed," he said when he finally noticed she stopped in front of him.

"I know, but I... I'm soaked, can I come inside just for a moment?" She asked.

"Oh, of course," as usual, he was completely unsuspecting. He just saw someone who needed help and helped, being an angel he just couldn't resist.

Aziraphale opened the door and let the young lady in. She carefully dried her bright pink combat boots on the doormat before stepping inside.

"Thank you," she murmured.

"Can I take your coat? Would you like some tea? Maybe a towel?" He offered.

"That would be nice, thank you."

"And what is your name, dear?"

"Rhiannon," she said, finally taking the coat off and exposing her hypnotic beauty.

She had bright brown eyes like the night sky, very pale skin, a captivating smile, and long hair in a middle part. One half was dark red and the other was pure white.

"Oh my- that is an interesting look... must be pretty hard to maintain."

"Not really, I was born like this. The doctors think it might be some sort of pigmentation issue."

"You were born with-" Aziraphale's voice disappeared when he noticed she had his smile, but Crowley's eyes. Not the snake-like ones he had now, but the ones he had when he was created, before the fall.

To make it even more daunting, she had a nose that looked like his own, but expressive eyebrows that looked like Crowley's.

"Hey, Angel, how did you- holy hell!" Crowley nearly dropped the plant he was carrying when he saw the girl standing there. "How did she...?"

"She was born like this," Aziraphale whispered before turning back to Rhiannon. "I should get us some tea."

"Wait no! Don't leave me alone with this... creature!" Crowley hissed.

Aziraphale didn't even listen, he had something to look for while the water boiled.

He had gotten a letter right after the apocalypse nearly happened, he never understood what it said, but it must be true since the sender was Agnes Nutter herself.

The note inside said: Angel shall not lie with angel, heavenly or fallen. For if two angels fall in love the consequence is a fruit made of two unmatching halves that might fall in a distant garden but shall roll until it hits your feet.

"Oh no... oh no!" He cried. "What have we done?"

When Aziraphale came back with the tray in hand, he was terrified of what he was going to find, but then he heard... laughter.

When he walked into the room, Crowley was laughing like a maniac while Rhiannon told him some story about how she got a teacher fired by organizing a riot in class.

"We had proper flags and chants, I really put my soul into it," she smiled.

"I see you two are getting along," Aziraphale chirped. If that girl was really who he thought she was, it was good they were getting along.

"Oh yeah, Rhiannon is great," Crowley nodded.

That was odd, the demon never warmed up to someone so quickly. Most times he didn't warm up to them at all, but she got under his skin.

She takes after him, I see... the angel thought as he served the tea.

"Rhiannon, do you live around here?" He asked, trying not to sound too curious.

"I just moved to London from Italy. My mother is British but my dad is Italian," she explained.

"Your dad! Yes, how lovely!"

"I was actually born here, they adopted me right before I turned two."

"Oh dear... that is a wonderful story," Aziraphale cleared his throat and handed the note to his partner. "Crowley, would you take a look at this?"

The demon read over the note a couple of times before it clicked and his mouth fell open. He looked from the girl to Aziraphale and back to her, that little nose... that smile... those cheeks!

"Shit!" He cried.

"Is everything okay?" Rhiannon asked.

"Yes, everything is tickety-boo," Aziraphale assured calmly. "If you don't mind me asking, did you ever wonder about your biological parents?"

"I tried to look for them when I turned eighteen, but the orphanage didn't know a thing. I was left by their door without a trace of anything. Not even a blanket, no letter, no basket, just... me. They had no way of knowing where I came from."

"And how old are you now?" Crowley asked.

"I'm twenty-four, I turn twenty-five next December," Rhiannon sipped on her tea without a suspicion in the world.

"That tracks actually. Remember? That was the first time when we.." Crowley whispered and was quickly cut off by his partner.

"Yes! Yes, I do remember that!" Aziraphale murmured, blushing from head to toe.

"What are you two talking about?" The girl laughed.

"We... we have reason to believe that you are... related to us."

"What?" She stared at them confused.

"You see, we're partners. We think you might be our daughter."

"Am I missing something? I don't think that's physically possible. I wouldn't mind having gay dads, but two men can't really accidentally have a baby."

"That's easy, we're not men," Crowley shrugged. "I did feel a little morning sickness around that time..." he joked.

Rhiannon looked down at her long hair and frowned. She had no idea how to feel, that was a very weird and confusing situation at best and a cruel joke at worst.

"Why do you think that?" She mumbled.

"The resemblance is uncanny. You have so much of both of us," Aziraphale smiled. "And um, we got a prediction once that warned us about your existence."

"What does that mean? I don't understand, you're not men, but you're not... what? How?"

"He's an angel," Crowley said, knowing his partner would just dance around the issue and if she really was theirs, she had to know. If she wasn't, he could always erase her memory or something of the sort.

"I know, he's really sweet, but-"

"No, I don't mean figuratively. He's an angel, I'm a demon. Apparently when angels or fallen angels get together for the first time... you happen."

Without another word, Rhiannon's vision went black and she fainted.

"Why did you have to be so blunt? She was clearly having a hard time processing it!" Aziraphale whispered angrily while the girl's head was on his lap.

"I thought it was easier to get it over with like taking off a plaster, I didn't think she'd pass out," Crowley hissed back.

"Well, she's sensitive, she's my daughter!"

"We don't know that yet and if she is, she's also my daughter which should make her pretty tough."

"Ah, I know how tough you are... couldn't even slaughter a bunch of goats that one time!"

"The goats didn't do anything, why would I do that?"

Rhiannon slowly opened her eyes and saw Aziraphale staring back down at her with a gentle smile.

"Oh! She's awake! Hello, dear, how are you feeling?" He asked calmly.

"My head hurts..."

"I can fix that!" He carefully placed his fingers on her forehead and with the help of a tiny miracle, made her feel brand new. "Better?"

"Actually yes," she mumbled. "I guess that makes you really an angel. And you..."

"Really a demon, I'm afraid," Crowley took off his glasses, exposing his yellow snake eyes.

"Jesus Christ!"

"No, just me, but I've met him once. Really nice fella, too bad what happened with the cross and everything."

She didn't get it, did one of them get pregnant with her? No, definitely not, they seemed just as surprised as she was. Did she just magically appear somewhere with little red and white curls? Just knowing she wasn't actually abandoned took a weight off her shoulders she never knew she carried.

"How do we know for sure? I don't imagine you can order a DNA test," Rhiannon chuckled. "Your blood is probably... I don't know... glittery and fluorescent."

"Oh no, these bodies are perfectly human, dear," Aziraphale laughed. "But you were not made from our DNA, you are a miracle."

"And who do we know that can check out if a miracle happened and where it took place?" Crowley looked pointedly at his partner.

"Muriel! Of course!"

The angel who had been reading a book, carefully not listening to the conversation (after all, it was private), lifted her head when she heard her name.

"Yes?" Muriel smiled and looked at their guest. "Oh hello! When did you get here?"

"Who's that?" Rhiannon asked.

"That's my new assistant, since the last one moved away," Aziraphale explained. "Muriel, we need a big favor."

"Anything, what can I do?" She put the book down.

"Go upstairs, check the miracle records, 22nd of December 1998 around... 10 P.M was it?" Crowley gestured, asking for confirmation.

"Between 10:24 and 11:15," Aziraphale nearly whispered.

"Wow! At least now we know where I got my stamina from," Rhiannon joked which made Crowley chuckle proudly.

"So please check what happened that day, how many Lazarii was it, and where it took place," Aziraphale whispered as if someone else could hear it even though there was no one else there.

Muriel nodded and waved before she left with a big grin, happy to have her own little mission.

"Now what?" Rhiannon asked.

"Now we wait," Crowley groaned.

She leaned back in her chair, but suddenly her vision became hazy again. Only this time she did not faint, the room she was in crumbled before her eyes and she saw the bookshop from the outside. She was standing on the sidewalk on a beautiful sunny day, wearing a completely different outfit, and her hair was tied up in a ponytail.

"How did I get here?" Rhiannon mumbled to herself, not understanding what happened.

"Come on, Ann. Your father isn't doing so well right now," Crowley said, holding his hand out for her.

"What? Dad! Dad!" She screamed out of the window, seeing Aziraphale inside. She somehow knew that she was his and for some reason, she knew something bad was happening.

Aziraphale looked at her with a sad smile and waved, mouthing goodbye.

"He's leaving," Crowley pretended not to care, but behind his sunglasses, his eyes told another story.

"Leaving? Where is he going?"

"Heaven, he'll become an archangel or something."

"Dad! Don't leave me, don't leave us, Dad!" She pleaded, but it was useless.

Rhiannon started to cry, so human as she is, and Crowley took her in his arms, awkwardly rubbing her back.

"You're not leaving too, are you?" He asked.

"No, I'm not going anywhere, Dad," the girl hugged him fiercely. "Let's get to your flat, the plants need water."

And just like that, Rhiannon was back to the moment she was before the vision. Nobody was crying or distressed, everything was peaceful again, and the rain was still pouring outside.

"Hey... I think I just saw the future," she breathed, not even believing her own words.

"You did?" Aziraphale asked, intrigued.

"Yeah, and it's not good!"

Tag List: @jozstankovich @elliethesuperfruitlover (message me to be added to the tag list)

#good omens #good omens fanfic #aziraphale x crowley #good omens oc #good omens au #fanfiction #multichapter

12 notes · View notes

viscerax · 2 years

Note

can you make a fic that is based off the song by Bad Habit - Steve Lacey? I've been imagining Vance in this song for that past week and it's been killing me LOL

Bad Habit

"Watch where you're going, asshole." Vance grumbled as some kid bumped into him on his way out of the Grab N Go, almost spilling his Icee all over himself.

"Oh, fuck off, dickhead." The kid replied, trying to bump past Vance again.

Vance scoffed and handed his Icee off to his friend, not wasting anymore time as he grabbed the kids shirt and throwing him to the floor. He grabbed his shoulders and hit the kids head against the pavement, practically knocking him out instantly.

The kids friend came up from behind, trying to tackle Vance, but one swift elbow to the nose deterred him from any future attacks.

The police were quick to arrive. Vance was shoved into the back of the all familiar car and driven to his home.

Vance knew that constantly starting fights wasn't good for him. He knew the consequences. He knew he wouldn't be let off so easily every time, especially when he got older.

But fighting was the only thing Vance could do to get feelings out. It was the only time anyone payed attention to him. Sure, there were girls that swooned over him, but none of them actually cared about him, and that was proven time after time when every one of them simply used him for his looks or his status as the big, bad boy.

And then there was you. Y/n, the most perfect person Vance had ever laid eyes on. You had perfect skin, perfect lips, perfect hair. But there was more to you then that. You were nice to everyone. Vance had never seen you even send an ill look towards someone. You always had a smile on your face. You were perfect.

He was convinced he would never have a chance with you. All your previous partners were way different then him. Well, at least he thought they were. They certainly looked different.

All of your previous partners treated you like shit. They could act all soft and sweet in front of everyone, but behind closed doors they were horrible. Everyone saw you as a pushover. The kind of person to say yes to anything, simply because you were to kind to reject them. And when you did stand up for yourself, it was suddenly a huge problem.

Vance was sure you would never go for a guy like him, as much as he wished you would. But for now, he would simply adore you from afar. Simply drinking in your presence was good enough for him, even if he longed for more.

Little did he know, you were also pining for him. The two of you were both convinced you weren't good enough for the other. You figured that your "hints" would be enough for him to catch on and he just simply wasn't interested. You would constantly follow him from afar, and even started taking a similar route home, just in hopes of being able to approach him. Sure, it was a bit stalker-ish, but all you wanted was for him to notice you.

You admired the way he could stand up for himself. How he was so strong-willed and not afraid to beat the shit out of anyone who bothered him. Meanwhile, you would simply smile or joke something off if someone practically punched you in the face.

The two of you just wished you could read each others minds, to know how each felt about the other. But you would never know unless you asked.

But there was one day. One day where you had a particularly huge amount of confidence, you strode up to Vance while he was eating lunch with his friends, smile wide.

You tapped him on the shoulder to get his attention, waving slightly and laughing awkwardly when he turned around. "Uh- hi! Um, Vance, right?" You paused, immediately embarrassed that you had asked his name, when you fully well knew his name. Everyone did. "Uhm- sorry! Can I talk to you. In private?"

You gave him your classic joyful smile that practically made him weak at the knees. Vance tried to hide his blush, but his friends definitely noticed and were snickering. Vance just nodded, setting down the sandwich in his hands and getting up to follow you. You led him back behind the school, which was usually crowded with teens making out or smoking, but for some reason, it was cleared out.

Once you were out of eye and earshot of everyone, you let put a shaky breath.

"Okay hi, uhm, qell first off, I don't know if you know me. I'm Y/n. We never really talk so I just figured I should introduce myself. Uhm, well anyways... crap" you sighed, fidgeting nervously with the sleeves to your cardigan. "Uhm well, I've had this weighing on my chest for a really long time and I just needed to tell you something. I uhm-" Vance just stared at you, which made you even more nervous, and you started talking really fast,making it very difficult for Vance to capture anything that you said. "Well I just really really like you and I don't really expect you to like me back. I mean you're way out of my league. I mean like- you're perfect, and cool, and very strong. And also really hot. I like that you can stand up for yourself, because I have a lot of trouble with that. I just kind of let people walk all over me and it really sucks and just-" you gasped and stopped yourself before you could keep rambling. "S-sorry. Basically. I like you, like in a crush way. Wow that was cheesy. Anyways, I don't really expect you to like me back, so yeah thats it-"

You were cut off by Vance pressing a chased kiss on your lips. He was as red as a tomato, which matched the shade of embarrassment on your face.

"I like you too, Y/n." He smirked and leaned away, simply staring and waiting for a reaction. You just stood there for a second, kind of dumbfounded.

You mumbled incomprehensible words under your breath before a wide smile spread across your lips. "Uh- okay. Uhm thats great like really really good. Uhm, wow. This went better then I expected. Uhm you're a really good kisser-" you let out some kind of noise, almost like a squeak, and covered your mouth. "I'm sorry! Shoot. Uh- what I meant to say was-" you cleared your throat and tried to stop the quivering in your voice. "Vance Hopper, would you care to join me on a trip to the diner after school for milkshakes. As a date." You held out your hand, as if you wanted him to shake it, which you immediately regretted seconds later and began to move it away.

Vance smirked, letting out a chuckle before nodding and grabbing your hand, placing a kiss on your knuckles. That small action practically made you lightheaded. "I think I'd like that very much, Y/n." Vance hummed and let go of your hand, calmly walking away, while you just stood there, absolutely dumbfounded.

A/N: I LOVED THIS REQUEST!!! HAD SO MUCH FUN WRITING FOR IT BECAUSE I LOVE THIS SONG AND I ALSO LOVE STEVE LACEY. IDK IF THIS IS AT ALL WHAT YOU HAD IN MIND, BUT I HOPE YOU LIKE ITTT <3333

#vance hopper #the black phone #robin arellano #the black phone x reader #black phone edit #finney shaw #vance hopper x reader #headcanon #steve lacey #bad habit

81 notes · View notes

thegoblinboy · 1 year

Text

I know it’s WIP Wednesday! And I have some asks that I have to answer from last week 😭 I got so distracted with my bang fic and now this new werewolf fic that I started. Ahhhh I’ll try doing some of the asks but my brain is in one spot right now Lmao. So I’ll just show you guys a small snippet of what I’m currently working on for the day!

Snippet from my upcoming story “Bark At The Moon”

"Chris, I think you need to cut back on 'The Last Of Us', It might be getting to your head because I will not die from foot fungus." He laughs gently, a small snort leaving him before he turns his head to look back forward. Carefully nodding his head in acknowledgement to a group of kids that he recognized from school. Wincing as his feet lands back onto dry pavement, causing him to bounce a little bit again, hearing the slight laughter from a couple of people around him.

"Athletes foot existed way before that show started to air Munson," Chrissy snorts out as she moves her hand up to her hair, that was down past her shoulders only for a second before she had to tie it up into ponytail for the pool. Wearing two hair ties on her wrist, one that was for her and the other for Eddie. Who had been too distracted with the idea of seeing a boy back from the dead then swimming or looking up pool rules."Now, don't change the topic! Did you? Or did you not come only for Steve Harrington?" She accuses, walking a bit faster to playfully poke the back of the others right shoulder. Green sandals slapping the scolding pavement loudly, nearly hitting the others heels in the process.

"Well there was that one other time when Johnny Depp's face randomly popped up in an ad when I was watching po-"

"Ew, don't you dare finish that sentence dude or I will seriously jump in this pool and drown myself." Chrissy's nose is scrunched up at him in disgust. Gagging lightly as she quickly adds, "And there's children!" She squeals a little bit as they finally find the worst spot to sit at. A small area near the corner of the fence that everyone avoided due to the amount of ants that lived in said corner. Both of them scrunch their noses up at the sight of bugs, Eddie being extra careful not to squish any from underneath him as he held a battle with his sensitive feet.

"Well, you did ask me if I've ever come for anyone but Steve Harrington." Eddie comments with a sleazy smile, tilting his head to look away from the ground back to Chrissy. He knew exactly what he was doing as he keeps squirming around, eyes fleeting down to the towel that the other was carrying along with the bag filled with their things. Snapping his fingers at her to drop the towel to the ground, being impatient. Still doing a slight jig in attempt at making sure to keep his feet from burning to a crisp.

"I should let your feet burn off," She playfully growls, setting the bag down off to the side first, furthest away from the bugs as possible. Purposely not setting the towel down to the ground, knowing exactly what she was doing before quickly rolling up the towel in a tight twist. Swinging it in a small circle to get the twist effect before moving forward and slapping the others side with it, causing a loud slapping noise to go over the buzzing sound of chatter that surrounded them. Eddie yelps out, hand flying to his side skin turning a light pink with little goosebumps forming from where the towel impacted. Now hopping up and down in a little circle, hissing from the pain of his feet and his side. "Feet still hurt?" The girl teases, batting her eyelashes at him playfully. Breaking out in soft giggles when he begins to glare at her, though a softness still left in his demeanor.

"You abuse me woman," he whines in complaint right as she finally lays the towel out evenly on the ground. Barely getting it on the ground before Eddie's standing on top of it with a dramatic sigh. "Poor things were about to turn into fried dogs." He jokes, referencing his feet in a way that he knew Chrissy hated. Earning a small pinch at the fattiest part of his arm, causing him to giggle manically at the other. Closing his eyes for a second as the sun flashes itself into his eyes, blinding him leaving him to only be able to hear Chrissy digging into her bag loudly. Moving item after item around with soft clacks.

#steddie #stranger things #eddie munson #steve x eddie #steve harrington #bxb #steveharrington #steveddie #eddie stranger things #steve and eddie #chrissy cunningham #wip wednesday

6 notes · View notes

katblu42 · 2 years

Text

Midnight Snack

This is actually a re-post of a fic I wrote over a year ago now - at the time it had no name, but it does now!

It is Scott whump (pretty much the only time I've managed to do that to him, I think) with Gordon to the rescue.

Based on a spin of a prompt generator wheel that gave me Drowning, and the location of an Alley.

He was here in New York City for a week, staying in the penthouse apartment a short car ride away from the office. A week filled with unavoidable, important Tracy Industries meetings. A week he was already wishing was over despite it being only Tuesday. He was over it. The petty bickering, the business politics, the smug, know-it-all idiots, the over-confident jerks and the patronising old-hats who forced him to continually prove he knew what he was doing. He’d had enough. And he’d already had his fill of being under the watchful eye of his security detail every time he stepped outside the apartment.

So it was that Scott found his way out onto the pavement, shiny and slick from earlier rain, walking the short distance from the rear of the apartment building to the little coffee shop on the corner. He’d made this sneaky jaunt so many times before – a brief escape from the claustrophobic confines of the constant security presence – without incident. The coffee was good, but it was the pastries that kept him coming back. He wasn’t exactly sure of their official hours, but he’d never yet found them closed, so despite it being just before midnight on a Tuesday he was able to come away with a hot cup of (decaf) coffee and an almond scroll.

Even at this late hour traffic was almost constant, tyres flicking up misty spray from the oil-slick shiny, damp street as each vehicle passed. Almost halfway back to the apartment he heard a cry above the traffic’s white noise. A young, female voice. Indistinct, tearful, painful sounds punctuated by definite “No!”s and a “Please, don’t!”, then a screamed plea for help. It was coming from the narrow alley to he’d just passed. The alley was practically unlit and lined with large dumpsters that obscured his view, but he could see figures moving about deep in the shadows.

Before he had realised what he was doing he’d taken a few steps into the alley, calling out as he looked into the gloom.

“Hey! Everything okay?”

The scuffling sounds ahead of him ceased and he walked carefully forward on the muddy, pocked and potholed bitumen as he headed deeper into the narrow space between dumpsters. Despite his caution he never saw it coming. He had no chance to react. He received a solid blow to the back of the head and saw stars pinpricking his dimming vision. He didn’t feel himself fall, but he was very aware of his face hitting the wet, gravelly ground before he blacked out.

***

Gordon’s squidsense was tingling. He re-checked that everything and everyone was secured before Thunderbird Two could take off on the way to get the injured to hospital. Everything was as it should be but the tingling lingered in the back of his mind.

“Good to go back here, Virgil,” he relayed to his pilot over comms.

“FAB,” was the reply, simultaneous with the roar of VTOL as the giant aircraft began her ascent. “But something’s bothering you. Spill.”

“Squidsense is tingling.”

Having made sure the injured remained settled through take-off, Gordon made his way to his co-pilot seat. He’d barely sat down before contacting John.

“Hey, Thunderbird Five, give me a quick check in on Alan and Scott. I need to shift this uneasy feeling.”

He didn’t miss the concerned look Virgil shot across at him, but any comments he might have made were averted when the space above the dash lit up with John’s hologram.

“Funny you should ask that.” The furrow in John’s brow suggested nothing funny at all. “Alan’s fine, however I had some odd readings on Scott’s vitals, but now there’s nothing, and I can’t raise him on comms. His Security detail haven’t seen him since he returned to the apartment almost three hours ago. Eos is trying to track his phone, but it seems to be turned off.”

“It’s not like Scott to turn his phone off,” Virgil commented. “Could be a flat battery.”

“You’re not fooling anyone, Virge. You’re thinking exactly what I’m thinking – something’s wrong.” Gordon was certain it was Scott that had sent his uncanny knack for sensing trouble into overdrive, and he was formulating a plan of action. “John, send his head of security up to check on him. Since we’re headed to New York with our injured passengers anyway, I’m gonna pay Scott a visit. Virgil can drop me off on the way past.”

Virgil had some thoughts on that, but when John came back to them with word from the head of Tracy Industries Security that Scott was not in his apartment all argument ceased.

They reached NYC in minutes. Rain began to fall as Thunderbird Two hovered above the apartment building long enough for a zipline to be deployed, Gordon to slide down, and the cable to be retrieved. Then, with a quick flare of her rear engines the great green beast was on her way to the hospital. By the time the roar of her engines had faded Gordon was already running down the stairs, heading for the penthouse.

***

Rain was falling. A heavy downpour, pelting the pavement. Scott was aware of the sound, and the sensation of drops falling on his face, and the fact that half his face was lying in water. And pain. A great deal of pain. He breathed out and water bubbled against his lips and nostrils. He tried to move his hand, to push himself up off the ground, but searing pain lanced through his head and for a second he had no sense of where up was. Then he blacked out again.

***

Inside Scott’s apartment Gordon searched for something that might tell him what had happened to his big brother. The security officer there with him was nervous and apologetic, but Gordon had no time for any of that. The other five officers that made up Scott’s night-time detail had headed out to search the immediate area, but no-one knew how long Scott had been gone so it was difficult to define how large an are they should search.

“John, I could really use some info right about now.”

“Eos has found his phone. Signal is pinging off towers in Long Island.”

“That’s nowhere near here, and Scott would have no reason to be there this late at night.” Gordon was finding it difficult to keep the looming panic out of his voice.

“Security Chief Anderson is sending TI officers out there now, and local law enforcement are looking into it as well.”

“You don’t think Scott’s there either.” It was not a question. Gordon’s mind was racing. He was missing something. A thought was trying to form somewhere in the back of his mind, but he wasn’t calm enough to give it time to voice itself.

“No,” John replied, still trying to work through what they knew and find answers too. “Anderson says they didn’t see him leave the apartment after 9pm. Eos is still screening CCTV footage, but there’s been no sign of Scott leaving or anyone else entering until we sent Anderson up here to investigate.”

“Wait, John, check the footage of for the rear of the building. I think I know why no one saw him leave.”

It had finally twigged. The thing Gordon was missing. The thing that was missing from the room, the reason Scott would leave the apartment late at night – coffee and pastry. Gordon was one of the few people who knew about Scott’s sneaky visits to the café. He exited the penthouse at a run, heading for the express elevator that would take him to the building’s parking lot and rear exit. He needed to follow Scott’s route, and he was prepared to leave no stone unturned in the search for any clue as to what had happened to Scott.

Once he was outside the rain pummelled his shoulders and began plastering his hair to his head as he hurried along the street towards the corner coffee shop. He couldn’t go too fast, scared he’d miss something as he swept his gaze from left to right, scanning every shadow, every nook and cranny. He came to the entrance of the narrow, dark ally and his squidsense became so active it almost hurt.

He spotted a rapidly disintegrating paper bag exposing soggy pastry, lying on the wet pavement next to an empty cardboard cup, it's contents long since washed away.

Entering the alley cautiously, still scanning everything in sight, Gordon found he needed more light and reached into his baldric for a glowstick, thankful he still had some left after the earlier rescue. Snapping it and holding it ahead of him to cast it’s green glow, he made his way past a couple of large, dirty dumpsters and then stopped short at the sight that greeted him. There was Scott, lying face down on the uneven ground, his face in a pothole, blood slowly oozing down the back of his neck from a nasty headwound and staining his sodden blue shirt.

Gordon forced himself to step forward through the initial paralysis of shock and hit his comm to call John as he knelt beside his brother. Fingers searching for a pulse on a wrist bereft of watch or comms with one hand while the other gently lifted Scott’s head from the puddle.

“I’ve got him, John!” There was a pulse, but Scott wasn’t breathing. “Shit, Scott! John, I’ve got a weak pulse but he’s not breathing. I’m administering CPR”

Gordon checked the airway was clear and rolled Scott onto his back to administer the necessary rescue breaths as he spoke.

“FAB.” The reply was clipped, emotionless in tone, which told Gordon exactly how John felt at that moment. “Virgil should be with you in less than two minutes.”

To Gordon’s great relief it took less than a minute for his brother to give a cough that expelled dirty water from blue-tinged lips. He rolled Scott into the recovery position and sat beside him, panting. One hand rested gently just above his brother’s hip feeling the rise and fall of the ribcage with every shallow breath, the other hand gently brushing limp, wet hair from his face. He took a moment to process the lack of jacket, and the absence of phone or wallet in the pockets of Scott’s pants. A mugging? Scott knew how to defend himself against a single attacker, this had to have been an ambush of some kind.

Gordon had questions, but for now he was just relieved his brother was breathing. His fingers gently brushed Scott’s forehead again and eyelids flickered open revealing blue eyes searching for the source of the touch. There was a shaky, deep inhale.

“Gordy?” Barely more than a croak.

“I’m here, Scott. I’ve got you.”

#thunderbirds fanfiction #whump #scott tracy #gordon tracy #military bros #fic repost #thunderbirds fandom

13 notes · View notes