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exhaslo · 6 months

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Hiii i was wondering if you could do a miguel x cinnamon bun reader who’s a chubby baker and catches Miguel’s eye sometime when he was out as spiderman and decides to wife her up. And now that they’re together since she’s always baking at home miguel comes home to the smell of cinnamon buns and her as well who’s filled with flour on her face. You can make it smutty if you want, i was just thinking that this scenario was cute 😭😩

have a good dayyy

Crying bc I wrote like half of this before Tumblr froze and deleted everything so I gotta rewrite it again.

Anyway, this is a cute idea. It would be super adorable if Miguel didn't like sweets either...so...without further ado...Time to write again

Warning: None, just fluff, light mentions of sex

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You owned a small bakery in the middle of Nueva York. It was no surprise that the smell of your bakery would attract anyone walking down the block. The aroma of your desserts would attract even the most grumpiest of people.

You were working in the kitchen, sweating as you tried to perfect your latest batch of cupcakes. You took a look around at your workers, smiling as they had fun while making your desserts. You loved your job.

"Hm, I'll take whatever you recommend. I don't really like sweets." A voice from outside said.

Your ears perked up as you heard such a phase. Your curiosity got the best of you as you poked your head out of the kitchen. You saw two men at the counter with your cashier. One was giddy with joy, ordering a bunch of sweets while the other had a stern look at his face.

Slowly, you made your way behind your cashier, avoiding the tall man's gaze. He was handsome, but also somewhat scary. Pulling one of your not so sweet desserts, you carefully placed it in a cute box and slid it towards him on the counter.

"T-This is on the house. I...I hope you like it." You whispered, glancing up at him.

"Oh, sorry, I didn't think anyone but this idiot heard me." The man said while pointing at his companion.

"Migueeeel!"

"Thank you," Miguel said with a fanged smile.

You felt your cheeks flush as you rubbed your eyes. You had to be exhausted from working because you swore you saw fangs. Returning your gaze to the handsome man, you smiled as he took a bite. His eyes widen, licking his lips,

"It's good,"

Miguel was surprised by the delightful treat you gave him. He glanced towards you, caught off guard by the cute smile you gave him. He watched as you hurried into the kitchen, shaking with excitement. Unable to stop staring, Miguel looked back down at the dessert.

"Shall I get more of those for you~" Gabriel, Miguel's brother, said with a silly grin. Miguel nudged him away,

"No. I can get these myself."

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Miguel was swinging around the city, patrolling for any crime. He stopped, catching whiff of something ridiculously sweet. Disgruntled, he stoop and searched for the source of the smell. His shoulders sunk, spotting your bakery.

Perhaps you were working on a new recipe? Miguel made it a habit to stop by once a week. He enjoyed your company. You were different. Miguel was willing to try anything you gave him as long as it meant seeing your smile.

Sitting against the roof of the building, Miguel just sat there and watched you. You were hard working, helping every customer and your employees. He knew the struggle of managing a business. Hell, Miguel was technally in charge of two companies, if the Spider Society counted as one.

"Haha! She probably eats all her sweets! Look at her!" A rude teenager yelled as his obnoxious friends laughed alongside him.

"P-Please leave!" You begged.

Miguel stepped in once he saw tears form. He jumped onto the sidewalk and quietly walked behind you. His presence scaring the teenagers away. You whimpered, rubbing your eyes and sniffing before turning around and yelping.

"It's okay. I just scared them away," Miguel whispered, not wanting to spook you.

"Thank you," You whispered, still shaking. Miguel wanted to comfort you, but he knew this wasn't the right time or place,

"Don't let those kids get to you."

"I-I'm used to it...A chubby girl who owns a bakery. I hear it a lot." You whispered. Miguel grinded his teeth together,

"You're beautiful."

"Haha, thanks. That cheered me up," You said with that sweet smile of yours, "Here, let me give you a treat as thanks."

You hummed happily as you held Spiderman's hand, leading him into your bakery. Your customers were surprised, but went about their business. You looked behind the counter and took out one of your newest desserts, placing it in a cute box.

"I just made this, I hope you like it."

You watched as Spiderman's mask slowly disappeared revealing his lower half of his face. Your eyes widen as you saw fangs when he took a bite. Your smile widen as you thought of your regular Miguel, whom you liked.

"It's good." He said. You just giggled,

"Thank you."

--------

Miguel was determined to wife you up. He had started to stop by your bakery three times a week, chatting and getting to know you on a deeper level. Once he found out that you were single, he did not hesitate to ask you out.

Miguel wanted you. He was determined to protect you and keep his sweet little baker by his side. You were so sweet and cute that Miguel was having a hard time restraining himself. He wanted to swing you in his arms and make you his.

By your fifth date, Miguel kissed you. He held you close to him, enjoying your flushed cheeks and shy expression. He was your first for everything and Miguel was going to savior everything about that. He was going to enjoy giving you everything.

By your twelfth date, you admitted to him that you knew he was Spiderman. Miguel was slightly embarrassed, but felt a weight off his chest since he didn't have to hide it from you anymore. With his secret known to you, Miguel was able to give you even more affection due to his powers.

The first time you guys had sex, Miguel went overboard. He joked about you being his dessert for the night and ended up filling you like one of your cupcakes. He had to apologize to you, but you weren't complaining. It was the best night of your life.

Finally, after a few months, Miguel offered to have you move in with him. You were hesitate, but after some reassuring, you agreed. You were currently in your shared house, making a new recipe while waiting for Miguel to return from work.

"Mhm~ I wonder if my customers will like this~" You cooed, trying the cookies.

"Of course they will. You're the one making them," Miguel hummed as he wrapped his arms around your waist.

"Miguel~ You're home!" You chirped. Miguel kissed your neck, his hands groping your tummy,

"Missed you, baby. Couldn't stop thinking about you all day,"

"M-Miguel," You glanced away, feeling flustered, "D-Do you want to try my cookies?"

"Of course, but I'll be enjoying my cookies later," He whispered, groping your breasts.

"Miguel~"

Miguel chuckled lowly, capturing your lips in a kiss before willingly tried the cookie. He scrunched his face up, still not liking sweets, but told you that they were amazing.

You chuckled towards him, letting him know that you'll make some dinner. Miguel wanted to complain, saying something about feasting on you, but you managed to convince him to shower. You couldn't help but smile, happy that you found someone who loved you just the way you are.

"Oh, (Y/N), I've been meaning to ask," Miguel started as he came out of the shower, "Did you give Spider Chef a recipe for a Spiderman burger that looks like me?"

"..."

Miguel sighed heavily, "It's a best seller." He muttered,

"Yai~ I knew it~" You cheered happily.

Miguel resisted a chuckle as he watched you do your cute little cheer. You were defiantly going to make it up later. Miguel did think it was time for you to have little helpers after all.

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Hehe, hope you enjoyed~

Part 2 (smut)

#miguel o'hara #miguel o'hara x reader #spiderman 2099 #miguel spiderverse #miguel o’hara x reader #miguel spiderman #atsv miguel #across the spiderverse

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insomniumstella · 8 months

Text

spice & honey

bucky x baker!reader

summary: cinnamon buns and wickedly strong coffee must be the only reasons James Buchanan Barnes visits your bakery daily, despite the inconvenience of driving to a small town on the outskirts of Upstate New York. right?

warnings: first dates and crushes (absolutely classified as warnings), mead consumption, a curse word or two, soft!bucky

word count: 4,565

author's note: i've been watching Gilmore Girls a little too much lately (hence the little easter egg). on another note, autumn is my favourite season, so prepared to be sick of James attending harvest festivals and drinking apple cider 🍂🥧🎃

all the stories i've written

September 21st marks the official arrival of Autumn. Though the weather has been rather cheerful lately, today’s air is much crisper and heavier with the promise of looming rain. The streets of Eldermont remain far too green to your dismay, but Spice & Honey—the bakery you’ve owned for the past five years—is rich in shades of marigold and copper. A wide assortment of mugs, mostly in various shapes of pumpkins, and spiced teas, line the shelves, while the fresh jars of apple butter are neatly stacked alongside the register. Besides the usual treats, the glass display teems with seasonal favourite pumpkin tarts and apple cider donuts.

The everlasting chatter of customers and soft sounds of a vintage record you scored at a neighbour’s garage sale just last month saturate the space as you place the second batch of cinnamon rolls on the counter. The clock reads 10:57 AM, and though you’ve been attempting to conceal your excitement, Vivienne could sense it the second you stepped through the door, teasing you about the very special visitor who’s always in need of sugary buns and black coffee at exactly five past eleven.

James Buchanan Barnes is a regular customer, you often argue. The nervous babble, flustered movements, and beaming smiles convey otherwise. And so yes, you might have a little bit of a schoolgirl crush on the freakishly tall, muscular brunette who brings in the latest editions of The Culinary Canvas magazine each Monday and notices the smallest of changes in your recipes. Just maybe, you reluctantly ponder when your thoughts inadvertently wander to that charming grin and baby blue eyes every time you knead the dough for his adored treat — a dessert once reserved for Autumn suddenly available year around.

“Staring at the entrance won’t make time pass quicker,” Vivienne whispers, arranging butterscotch cupcakes by the pumpkin tarts.

“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” you whisper back, covering the pans with aluminum foil.

Perhaps hiding the pastries, a favourite amongst Spice & Honey shoppers, is not the best business decision, but Eldermont is merely a small town in Upstate New York. If it wasn’t located a thirty minute drive south of the Avengers compound, most people wouldn’t be aware of its presence in the first place. And besides, everybody in Eldermont is connected to everybody — the town holds no secrets, including the pastries you keep warm and frost fresh.

“The tall, dark, and handsome man,” she points out, “still has a few minutes. Perchance the preparations of Eldermont’s Annual Harvest Festival made it trickier to find parking.” Vivienne turns to you with a mirthful grin, the cupcakes resting perfectly positioned in the glass case. “You should invite him. Heard Brad brewed an incredible batch of apple cider mead this year.”

You sigh, snatching the golden tray out of her grasp. “I’m not asking Bucky out.”

“Ah! Bucky!” The woman’s grin widens. “Forgot his name for a second.” Shades of mischief dance in her tone as she marks Elijah’s, the eccentric owner of Marigold Meadows flower shop across the street, special order of fifty maple bacon BLTs as completed.

“What’s that supposed to mean?”

“Only that you mention Bucky at least seven times a day.”

“Seven’s oddly specific,” you note and swiftly, “also I do not,” disagree.

“Bucky smelled great today,” Vivienne mocks your voice, the grin you’ve come to love—and hate—remaining on her features. “Should I add apple to the cinnamon rolls? I wonder if Bucky would enjoy apple cinnamon rolls with brown butter and maple icing unless he’s a creature of habit. Maybe I should suggest a sprinkle of nutmeg in his coffee to test the waters first—“

“Vivienne,” you groan, yet she persists.

“What’s the worst that could happen? Bucky could say no. Bucky could also choose The Sugared Whisk. Bucky wouldn’t. I adore their croissants, but the coffee is terribly weak, and even their tea selection is mediocre. Indigo should include spiced teas. And sure, Luke's doesn't offer spiced teas, but Luke’s sells great coffee and danishes, except the danishes are only available on Wednesdays.” She recites a recent monologue of yours, and if you weren’t mortified, you’d actually be quite surprised at Vivienne’s ability to remember conversations as if they happened minutes ago.

The doorbell chimes before she has the chance to finish, and you’re highly unsure of whether it’s a saved by the bell kind of situation or if you’d rather the floor magically swallow you whole.

“Good morning.” James smiles, and it’s then that you decide you’d rather the floor split open because you’re awfully flustered by his entrance despite secretly anticipating the moment since the sun arose.

“Hiya, Bucky,” she returns the favour, secretly nudging your side. “Have you ever been to the annual Eldermont’s Harvest Festival?”

“Cannot say I have,” he chuckles, breaking eye contact between the two for just a second to glance at her.

Though you’d never admit it aloud, those eyes, baby blue on sunny days and resembling the ocean on the ones of rain, cross your mind more than a pair of eyes should. This infatuation borders on obsessive, you often contemplate. James Buchanan Barnes is an Avenger for heaven’s sake, and you’re almost sure a man of his maturity and composure wouldn’t agree to a date with a baker, a clutz one at that. It’s not that you’d want to, nevertheless. The two of you have a great thing together — you serve coffee, he survives on coffee, and if time allows, the lighthearted conversations you have bring colours to otherwise monotone days.

“The decorations, the food, the people are phenomenal.” You might have to assign the redhead to kneading duty if she’s heading to that territory. “This beauty right here could take you on a real good tour. Eldermont is gorgeous this time of year.” Enjoy kneading bread, Vivi.

“Is it?” James grins, his stare flicking between you and Vivienne.

“Drop dead,” she reiterates, “much like the women.”

“Vivienne,” you suddenly cut in, “the coffee station is out of paper cups. Could you bring some from the back?”

She gives you another grin, less mischievous and more understanding, nodding at Bucky before she disappears into the kitchen. The heavy wooden doors create a boisterous sound once they close, and you couldn’t be happier for a distraction because you cannot look at the brunette just yet. The bakery is sweltering, and your hands are sweaty, and, if it wasn’t evident you’ve been nurturing a crush on James, Vivienne practically plastered a HEAD BAKER IN LOVE WITH SERGEANT BARNES sign out front.

“The station’s out of cups?”

“Yes!” You glimpse behind the shoulder, deciding to keep the lie alive. “Spice & Honey gets busy during the afternoons, and we run out quickly.” The words leave your mouth rushed and a bit muttered, but the effort is there. “Black coffee and a cinnamon bun?”

“It’s a habit,” his smile is as charming as always. James hesitates for a beat, observing you locate the plastic to-go containers. “The festival Vivienne touched on, have you ever been?”

The atmosphere stills for an awkward second as you gawk at him. “Oh, sure,” you answer at last, praying her babbling wasn’t too obvious because you couldn’t fathom Bucky choosing The Sugared Whisk. “Every year since I was four. The festival’s great. Brad brews the best mead, and Johnny, the mayor, is comically strict about the decorations, so it’s all pumpkins, and string lights, and festive garlands,” you mumble, scrambling for the pan and cream cheese frosting. “I’ve even heard whispers of fireworks this year. It’s next Saturday if you want to drop by. Cassie bakes the best apple pies.”

“Better than yours?”

“I don’t serve apple pies,” averting your eyes to study the grinder seems like the best decision to avoid his piercing gaze.

“I’m sure they’d be the best if you did.” Bucky beams, leaning against the counter as he observes you make coffee.

“Thank you,” the expression of gratitude melts into somewhat of a question despite your best attempts at keeping your voice level, “but the pies I bake often turn out horribly wrong. The apples were overcooked, and the dough raw last time I tried.”

“How undercooked?”

“The trash can enjoyed most of it.”

James laughs at that, the sound of it hearty and endearing. “I’m sure it found the pie delicious.” If he’s flirting with you, you can’t tell, and you don’t exactly want to, for expectations are the fool’s hope. “If you’re not terribly busy during the festival,” he speaks after a protracted moment of doubt, “I’d love to take you up on that tour Vivienne mentioned.”

“Tour?” The man in front of you must almost all but hear your heart pounding rapidly inside your chest.

“The tour of mead, pies, and decorations.”

“Oh?” You tinker with a couple napkins, peering at him. “I’m not sure I could give you a real good tour, I’m barely a guide, believe me. I got lost in that new Target on Cedar Lane, and I cannot understand maps, and—“

“I’m asking you out on a date.” Bucky chuckles at your flustered visage, baby blues never once breaking the eye contact.

“Shit,” the curse word leaves your mouth before you can stop it, and you silently reprimand yourself for the rash impulse of colourful words. “Alright.”

The sergeant titters at your sudden reaction, a shy smile dancing on his lips. “We don’t have to do this if you’re uncomfortable. I just thought we might have something between us, chemistry of sorts, and that it might’ve been fun,” he briefly pauses, eyes wild and roaming around your face. “It’s just that Vivienne mentioned Eldermont being gorgeous in the fall, and it got me thinking that I’ve never truly experienced it, because the only thing I visit in this town is your bakery, not that it’s the only place worth visiting—“

“Bucky—“

“There are many stores I should probably check out, and Samuel’s birthday is in a couple of days, which is convenient. I wouldn’t describe Sam and I as the best of pals, but Steve likes him, so I should probably get him a gift.”

“Who’s Samuel?” You ask puzzled, but the flustered soldier standing before you continues to ramble.

“Something small to indicate I remembered but not necessarily care. Something that screams I’m not a total jerk, but you are for reminding the whole compound that your birthday’s on the twenty third. A wooden statue of a bird. Sam likes birds, particularly Redwing, though Redwing’s not technically a bird. A wooden bird statue would certainly insult him, so it’s settled — the plan is to visit Artists & Wood on Land.”

“The shop’s name is Woodland Artistry,” you correct with a gentle smile.

“Right!” James clicks his tongue, studying your softly amused features. “We should probably forget this conversation happened. It was a stupid idea too—“

“Yes,” you interject. “I mean no.” Surely, this scenario is a strange dream that wicked mind of yours created to punish you for the sins you assumably committed in every single one of your previous lives. It’s the only possible explanation for the sergeant’s flustered behaviour. “I would absolutely love to go on a date,” you say and pinch the flesh of your thigh for reassurance, but the scene remains as it was, “with you.”

Gently placing a twenty on the counter, James gleams at you. “I’ve never actually given you my number, have I?”

"No," you shake your head to indicate disagreement, pinching the flesh of your thighs once more. “Only the pleasure of our little chats,” the response makes you wince. The pleasure of our little chats? Something’s definitely wrong with me.

Chuckling, James grasps one of the pens you keep by the cash register and scribbles down a series of numbers on his receipt. "If I don't reply, Steve must be holding me hostage.”

"Duly noted," you grin, folding the piece of paper to tuck it into the back pocket of your denim shorts.

He stands there for a second as if absorbing the situation. “Good. It’s a date, then.” he smiles in the end, taking the coffee and the plastic box, and peeks at you behind his shoulder. “And keep the change, please. These treats of yours are more than worth it.”

A timid smile spreads across your lips at the compliment before you sink your teeth into the soft of your bottom lip, observing the soldier scramble out of the bakery, the phone in his flannel jacket ringing for attention.

“Next time,” the redhead appears beside you once James disappears out of sight with a final wave goodbye, “you should give the man coffee and buns on the house," Vivienne nudges you, "both of them."

A surge of warmth rushes to your cheeks at her innuendo. “It’s great you suddenly possessed the ability to teleport and all, but the dough back there won’t knead itself.”

“No,” she gasps, and you only laugh at her realisation, turning to help the next customer.

It’s a date.

The evening of Eldermont’s harvest festival is pleasant, neither too blazing nor cold, but despite the temperature and the appropriate sundress you’ve chosen for it, you’re on the verge of fainting. I cannot faint on our first date, you think and decide it’s the man next to you’s fault, really. The smell of his cologne is too addicting, the hints of pine and cinnamon in his aftershave too intoxicating. James is a gentleman, which you expected and appreciate, but it’s overwhelming, the way he holds your hand to lead you through crowds and attentively listens to your overdrawn stories about the origins of pumpkin carving. Heavens help me.

“Have you checked out the corn maze yet?” Brad asks cheerfully. He’s surrounded by large beverage urns and stacks of disposable drinkware. “Mary mentioned Elijah’s still in there,” he chuckles, pouring two paper cups full of steaming apple cider mead. “The fool must’ve gotten lost or something.”

“Must’ve,” you glance at him, the corner of your mouth quirking up into a half smile. “Happens every year.”

“The two of you should go,” Brad speaks once again before smiling at Bucky. “It’s a great first date activity.”

James chuckles, and you wonder if he regrets asking you on a date. The small town you call home is ludicrously close, and if Vivienne didn’t spill the beans to Mary as she promised, Mary must’ve spread the ‘rumours’ around herself. The town’s beloved bookshop owner is an incredible woman, but she loves to gossip, and you should’ve expected the second person after Vivienne to consistently insert themselves into your dating life to jump to conclusions. Though the situation isn’t precisely comfortable for you, it must be worse for James. Whilst he has never outright mentioned, the soldier has important reasons to stay under the radar. Bucky has witnessed a lot, horrors you’ve even heard about on the TV, and currently, every resident of Eldermont is aware that James Buchanan Barnes is on a date. With a local baker, nonetheless. Participating in acorn tossing and harvest bingo and conversing with Brad Monty about all kinds of sneaky activities couples get up to in the corn maze. You're certain that James is bound to vanish without a trace due to the town's antics if your diffident and often rather awkward behavior hasn't already scared him away. The anxious parts of your brain have even compiled a mental list of today's disasters:

Johnny wiped his sweaty hands on Bucky’s jacket, realising the blunder only to mumble “I love this jacket, Sergeant Barnes”, and pretending he wanted to initiate a hug before he disappeared.

Cassie offered you a sample of pecan pie, which you eagerly tasted due to Bucky’s “If I had to choose the second best pie after apple, it would be pecan” comment, and completely choked on.

Vivienne located you in the farmer’s market to say “hello”, and persuaded James to purchase a pair of beaded bracelets, the two of you had ridiculed moments earlier, for “every first date needs a souvenir to remember it by”.

James guided you to Mary’s bookstore because you conferred a series of rare hardbacks Mary hides in the back for special customers, and the older woman steered you towards a selection of intimacy guides.

Indigo, The Sugared Whisk owner, pleaded with James for Captain America’s number in the middle of a busy intersection and discussed his “timeless looks” for the next couple of minutes until a car almost struck the three of you.

Elijah phoned you in distress, panicking about “having to live out his best years in a smelly corn maze”, which disturbed the sergeant and resulted in an “Elijah will find the exit eventually” monologue on your side.

You accepted to take a photo of a tourist couple, accidentally dropping the wife’s phone and shattering the screen because James stood so close, your hands wouldn’t stop shaking.

“Thanks, Brad,” you fumble with your wallet, hastily placing a ten on the stand. “See you around.”

“Doll,” Bucky doesn’t move once you attempt to remove him from the nightmare that is the situation the two of you found yourselves in. It gives you a second to evaluate his expression, and much to your surprise, his features are as soft as ever. James is blushing, too. “I wanted to pay for that.”

“You paid for the apple pie,” the words slip past your lips mumbled because the only thing you can truly concentrate on is the fact James is blushing. Blushing as a result of Brad’s stories about couples so in love they simply cannot be bothered to locate the labyrinth’s exit before proving their emotions to the world. Couples that could be the two of you. Possibly. A sane person shouldn’t rush to assumptions unless they earned the sweetest nickname from a dream of a man. You’ve never paid much thought to whether you would enjoy being called a ‘doll’—you do, but you would probably adore every label he’d choose. The notion steers your head toward unexpected and dirty waters, and you couldn’t be happier for Brad’s decision to chime in.

“Cassie outdid herself this year,” he nods. “I’m most definitely going to dream about that blackberry pie tonight.”

“Yes,” James agrees never once breaking the eye contact with you. “The pies were delicious, and it was my pleasure to pay. It was me who demanded a tour.”

“You may pay for the maze then,” you smile at him, “but leave the ten — I’m not that great of a tour guide, and I’m afraid of the dark.”

“Dates should be fun,” James suddenly speaks. “We could’ve skipped the labyrinth.”

The corn maze is high and intimidating, but Bucky’s presence and the soft glow of an orange sunset manage to silence your fears a bit. The passages are almost entirely empty except for the two of you, and each corner you take makes your heart jump at the possibility of encountering spooky surprises.

“This is fun,” you reassure, taking a sip of mead. James shoots you a look you cannot truly decipher, but you decide the meaning is somewhere between worried and teasing. “It is,” you hesitate for a beat. “I just keep remembering the haunted corn maze in Greenwood. They have scare actors there, who jump out of the bushes when you least expect it and completely startle you. Vivienne took me there last year, and I cannot shake the memories.”

The expression on his face melts into sympathy. “If it’s any consolation, I would protect you against all the zombies and monsters this maze might throw at us,” he speaks before, “not that it has any,” adding.

“If theme’s anything to go by, I think we’re OK,” you chuckle at his offer, referring to the cutesy signs and charmingly painted pumpkins scattered throughout the labyrinth, “unless Johnny decided to include a couple gory scenes at the end, though it’d end worse for him than it would for me.”

“Johnny The Mayor?”

“Johnny The Mayor,” you take yet another sip, nodding. The beverage is barely warm twenty minutes into the attraction, providing only the comfort of a soft alcohol tipsiness.

“He’s a charming little fella,” Bucky notes, and you don’t have it in yourself to deny the statement. “I’ve never experienced someone initiating a hug by wiping their hands on my jacket.”

“Sorry,” you offer sheepishly because what could you say after an occurrence so bizarre. Everyone in this town is strange? James must’ve caught on to the fact by this time.

“It’s alright, and besides, I now have a humorous story to recount at parties, which is a first,” he gleams at you. “It may come as a surprise, but I’m not usually the life of it.”

“Can I ask you a question?” You shift to gaze at him before emptying the cup of mead to steady your nerves.

“I don’t promise to answer,” James grins, fiddling with the beaded bracelet, “but yes.”

“Who’s Samuel?”

“That’s your question?” He laughs as his flesh arm slithers to rest upon your waist. At least you think it’s his flesh arm. The man wears gloves whether the sun shines or the rain pours. You’ve seen pictures, though, and read stories of The Winter Soldier in possession of a metal arm. Neither raise concern, not for the reason you’re smitten with Bucky. Rather, because James was manipulated and stripped of free will, and if heaven would descend, perhaps because that metal arm is sinfully attractive. It’s a thought forbidden to be mentioned aloud, for the gloves are a large indicator he’d enjoy staying silent about the matter. “Who’s Samuel?”

“Yes,” you sputter. The butterflies his simple action caused you don’t mention. “I want to hear about this Samuel. I’ve been informed he likes birds, especially Redwing, who’s not technically a bird?”

“The Samuel I was babbling about is Sam Wilson. The Falcon, if you’re a fan of CNN,” James teases, steering you into the left pathway of the maze. Despite your instinct to choose right, you stay silent. “Redwing’s a drone of sorts Sam uses on missions, and, this is a direct quote, for surveillance. I despise the thing.”

“If we get lost, forget the second date,” you playfully threaten. Though the coziness of his body pressed to yours is intoxicating, it does nothing to ease the goosebumps painted on your skin, and as the sky bleeds in shades of crimson and purple, the sun melts into the horizon, teasing you for forgetting a sweater. “I would’ve categorised holding a grudge against an object as below you.”

“If the shoe fits,” he chortles, leading you down a long passage before abruptly stopping. Hesitating for a beat, he drapes the flannel jacket you’ve come to love on the man around your body. The garment is red and weighty, and it smells of James. The gesture makes your heart swell with admiration, but you ignore it. Dates should be approached with a blank slate because expectations are easily shattered. “I shouldn’t deliver Steve that woman’s phone number, should I?” Bucky’s arm finds your waist again.

Sinking your teeth into your bottom lip, “on the bright side, Indigo is quite a pleasant woman,” you verbalise the thought. James observes your expression, baby blues studying the same features he cannot resist thinking about at nightfall. Blood rushes to his cheeks at the notice of your fingers on his lower back, the heat of your skin piercing through his charcoal henley. “She’d certainly treat Captain America right. On the downside,” you pause, “Indigo is the exact opposite of Steve as the media portrays him. Come to think about it, both of us are.”

“How so?”

“The media portrays supersoldiers as courageous, but Indigo and I once had to call Luke to get rid of a teeny spider. Steve’s active in politics, whilst we often skip the town’s meetings—“

“Eldermont holds town meetings?” James chuckles, subconsciously drawing you in closer.

“Once a month, always on the first Tuesday,” you gleam at him before drawing in a deep breath to calm your violently beating heart. “Last time, we discussed the very pressing issue of Halloween decorations. Johnny insists every business on the main street must participate in the festivities. Indigo and I escaped out the back before the mayor could finish his speech. At the least, Steve would’ve stayed in that meeting, and at the most, he would’ve managed it.”

“People do say opposites attract.”

“Heard that before,” you agree. The loose strand of Bucky’s auburn hair tempts you to tuck it behind his ear, but you halt the impulse of committing such a ludicrous decision. “It must be true because you drink coffee black, and I prefer lattes. You have cinnamon buns for breakfast, and I, if time would be gracious enough for breakfast, would choose danishes.”

“The jury’s decided, then.” The corners of his mouth quirk up into a lazy and wickedly attractive smile, and, you almost wonder if Bucky’s aware of the effect he has on your body because if he isn't, your buckling knees must’ve given it away. “Opposites do attract.” His wildly confident attitude is a new discovery, but you decide you like it. “It would be a shame to ignore matters of the universe.” Confidence is a good shade on him.

“Is this your way of asking me on a second date?” You tease the man, memorising the pink hues veiling his cheekbones.

James guides you around the corner, observing the corn maze’s exit, and halts his movements. “Only if the lady agrees,” he shifts to stand before you, catching your forearms in his gloved hands, “which I’m sincerely hoping she does.”

Resting your arms on his shoulders, you gift yourself a quick moment to explore his features — the stubble gently lining his sharp jaw, the little scar above his eyebrow, and the red lips you, despite hiding it, wanted to kiss since he first visited Spice & Honey. “The lady would love to go on a second date.”

“Good,” an emotion you cannot comprehend waltzes in his eyes, but, for the sake of your composure, you abstain from thinking it could possibly be lust. “The gentleman is looking forward to it.” There's an argument happening inside him, you can sense it by the way he keeps drawing you closer until the space between your bodies is virtually erased, but retains his posture straight and almost rigid. The weight of should he or should he not lingers in the air around you before James catches your stare and smiles timidly, shattering the flicker of hope you have for him to kiss you. You don’t exactly yearn for him to kiss you. In theory, kiss-less first dates are a great idea, paving the way for deeper conversations and a closer bond. They build anticipation. Anticipation is good, you ponder for a second, but all you can truly focus on is whether James would taste like apple cider mead or the sugary desserts you two savoured earlier. “The night is still young," he speaks, the tone of his voice light and reticent. "It would be a shame to end the date this early."

“Luke’s open if you want to grab a quick dinner,” you say with a grin, stepping away from him. “Though we should probably exit the maze first.”

“Yes,” Bucky laughs and extends his arm towards the light at the end of the passage. “Lead the way, pretty lady.”

#bucky x reader #bucky barnes x reader #bucky x reader fluff #bucky imagine #bucky barnes imagine #bucky x you #bucky barnes x you #bucky barnes x female reader #bucky x female reader #bucky x baker reader #bucky x baker!reader #insomniumstella #bucky x reader spice & honey

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hanjisunglover · 5 months

Text

001. 𝐌𝐔𝐒𝐓 𝐁𝐄 𝐅𝐔𝐍𝐍𝐘 𝐈𝐍 𝐓𝐇𝐄 𝐑𝐈𝐂𝐇 𝐌𝐄𝐍'𝐒 𝐖𝐎𝐑𝐋𝐃

MASTERLIST. ! <- 001. -> 002.

warnings: mentioning of guns and weapons, blood, reader has some PTSD, minho calls reader pet names.

words count: 3.8k

There are two types of people in the world: those who support heroes and those who believe they only bring chaos to the city.

You are not part of any of these categories. You don't care about heroes, your life in a tiny apartment in Manhattan has never changed thanks to them. Your small business as a Pizza's restaurant in one of the quietest neighborhoods of New York hasn't paid off thanks to them.

You're just there, waiting for the big event in your life. Until then? you just pass your time listening to some cheap music from your dad's radio.

"Y/n, vien qua, c'è gente!" Your father's voice wakes you up, his strong Italian accent stops your music and put your headphones down from your head, the song still playing on your phone but you can't look or stop right now. You have to go back to work.

Your family runs a little business, your father works in the kitchen - cooking pizza with the true receipt from Italy. Your mother on the other hand get ready some typical desserts, like tiramisù, panna cotta and even gelato. Your grandma stays the whole day in the same spot, with her purple shawl on her shoulders, her glasses falling to the tip of her nose, her eyes on some Hispanic soap opera and her puzzle week.

You, just work as a cashier, giving them a little help when you're off from University. You got into a really expensive place, with people that have been spoiled their entire life, you just learned in another way the meaning of money.

Your grandmother came to the US when she just turned 25, in one hand she had her suitcase, in the other one her dreams. Learning English from the scratch, with three jobs part-time and her husband with two more jobs. They had a simple, chaotic but happy life. Until your grandfather passed away, leaving your dad the small business that they started on their own after saving the few pennies set aside.

You can't actually understand why they bought the place so far away from Little Italy, closer to Time Square than the rest of the really famous restaurants. Every time you ask to your grandmother, she just justifies herself saying, "your nonno was really stubborn".

Your grandfather, really thought that was the best option, with an apartment include with the small place for the 'sliced pizza's business', enough room for you and the rest of your family.

You know the place isn't very successful, there are few regulars, just enough to make reaching the end of the month with the end-of-month expenses. You know you can't ask for too much, and your college grades must remain impeccable to continue receiving the scholarship. Everyday you think how lucky the other people are, not really knowing their story, but just the fact that during your uni lessons they can normally say things such as 'let's go to a karaoke after this', makes you jealous.

You're not popular, you're not rich. That cut a lot of your social life, but not enough to not have any friends. As you walk out the back of the restaurant to get in the cashier spot, you can see your best friend with a big smile in her face, waving at you. "Yo mama is fine as hell."

You can't contain a laugh, her obsession with milfs and girls in general always finds the way to change your mood, your hand on your abdomen makes her laugh too. "What are you looking for today?"

"Some girls to kiss, wanna be the next one?" Her cheeky pick-up lines never failed of making you smile, you start to count the price for two slides of pizza, "it's 3 dollars," she hisses as she takes out her wallet from her expensive bag, "if I really have to."

You chuckle as you grab the three banknotes from her hand, her smile makes you smile. And for a moment, you're really happy. No worries, no thoughts. For a single second, your life is not that miserable as you think.

Until.

Until you can hear screaming, glass that breaks and terrifying looks in the faces of the people that you love. You never imagined that your life can change in an amount of seconds, when you can see a dark red costume. With weapons on his back and a gun in his hand.

You are not a big nerdy, but you know for sure that this costume it's just for one person only, Deadpool. He's not a hero, he's not a villain, he defines himself to the police as 'cleaner of shit from the others'. He's basically hitman, that if he is not forced by the person from whom he takes the task, he would not kill. And inside you, as you hide behind the counter while your heart shatters your chest, your hands shaking and the blood buzzing in your ears; you pray that it will be so.

You pray that he's in the wrong place, that he's just in the wrong place at the wrong time, but the direction he's pointing is in the kitchen. You feel your blood almost stop pumping in your heart, you can feel a a presence so gloomy that you can only hide more under the counter.

"No! please!" Your mother's voice wakes you up and you stand up from your spot, your best friend is taking care of your grandmother that fell from the chair, you can feel your eyes watering, but you try your best to push them back for later. Before you can even step inside the kitchen, a shotgun pierces the screams. The silence.

You never thought you could hate silence more than now, you run into the kitchen, your mother on the floor crying as your dad is moaning in pain, the chest wound fills the floor with blood. Deadpool currently cleans his gun with the towel your mother usually keeps on the counter. Tears burst and fall down your face, anger raging inside you.

"I didn't kill him." The antihero speaks as he walks past you, almost as if nothing had happened. his mask is raised to his mouth as he chews on a piece of pizza. "Easy, blondie."

The siren of the police starts to reach the place, that now is a mess. It's just about of time, and you pray every single one. The floor has pieces of glass from the windows, the chairs and tables overturned, the TV that your grandmother usually watch during the day is on the floor. Still working, shows the reporters right outside your business place, suddenly Deadpool throws one of his katanas, breaking perfectly the screen.

"Damn I always hated the reporters." His voice, it's deep, makes you shiver as you get close, but you don't reach his body because one of his guns, it's pointing at your forehead now. You stopped moving.

His chewing sounds fill the place, the only other thing that you can hear it's your dad moaning in pain and your mother crying. "Don't step too close blondie, you're gonna get hurt to try dancing with the evil."

Your breath catches in your throat when he turns his head toward you, you freeze, you can barely speak, "why did you do this? why to us?" It sounds shaky, as he gets too close for your eyes to keep on him, his cologne gets in your senses.

"I just follow work sweet thing, grow up with that." His voice sounds so mean, it makes you shiver from head to toe, you don't see his eyes, his mask drops covering his face before you could spare a few seconds off his half face. His tone becomes playful again as the police point guns at you, windows are blown up, letting the spring wind dust off the floor.

That was the first time, that you ever met Deadpool.

Lee Minho feels like heavy rain. The heavy rain after a thunderstorm, the summer rain, that gets into your bones, making you feel the heaviness of your clothes against your body, your shoes soaking wet and your hair all attached to your neck. That heavy rain. You don't know if it's because of his charm, or the fact that he doesn't let anyone get too close to him, but something in him makes you feel attracted. Since the first day of your University, your eyes were fighting you to look away from him, his features. You don't even know how his voice sounds like, not even the color of his eyes, it's the classic guy that you keep looking for in a room full of loud people.

His copper red hair that sprouts the hood of the hoodie, with a backpack on the shoulder makes its way to the corridors. He never looks at anyone in the eye, you don't even understand why he's in that institute, is difficult for you to imagine him as a spoiled child. Maybe is that the reason why you find him so charming. No one really knows how he can afford a university like this. A thing that you're sure about Minho and his student career is that he doesn't care about his grades, because he is too smart to study, he leaves the room when he feels bored and the professors never stopped him. He's just, the genius in the class, but anyone really cares, they know that he's too smart for them too. No one has ever beaten him on tests and assignments. Always on time with the deadlines, making him look almost too good that it bothers.

At least, that's what you thought, now after your father got arrested you can't even step inside a class without feeling your skin burn at the sight of the windows, scared for your life that suddenly they can break like that day. Your usual sit it's right next a big window, where your desk is with all the little draws on the top, but not today.

Not today because that seat it's already taken, taken by Lee Minho. You can feel your cheeks getting warm up, that has been your seat since the year of the semester. Everyone knows that's your seat.

"Excuse me?" You try to sound as gentle as possible as the guy that is writing in his notebook, his eyes still down, doing some tricks with the pen as he doesn't dare glancing up at you. "Sorry, uhm?"

Minho sigh as you don't move away from his side, standing right next the table that he chose, he takes a deep breath as he turns his face to look at you. It's the first time that you can see his eyes, that are a dark brown, the definition of heavy rain that you gave to him the first day that you saw him feels exactly like his eyes. Cold, his eyes are cold. "What?"

"That's my spot," you point lightly at the table, where his stuff are already placed, and Minho does not like moving around when he finds his spot. He's like a cat, it's hard to make him move from his new favorite angle of the room, "No it's mine." The whole conversation is too childish for you to talk back.

You can feel your cheeks warm up because his voice is firm, making you almost trip in your words as you turn in your feet to find another table, part of you it's a relief. Because your seat it's right beside the window, and being that close to them would make you panic, but of course; Minho doesn't know that. Or that's what you think.

˚　　　　✦　　　.　　. 　 ˚　.　　　　　 . ✦　　　　˚　　　　 . ★⋆.

For the entire week, Minho took your spot, you didn't know why and he's not that close to anyone to actually ask and know the reason, you just.. accepted. Who are you to tell him what to do?

Every morning - you're not sure how long ago that started but however - you passed there to greet, and leave a juice jug that you bought the machines, nobody had ever approached him like this. You knew you were not special from the others, but you were pleased to see how Minho after about ten seconds that left the juice on the table, smiled by raising just the corners of the mouth. That made you feel good. The following Monday, Minho is not there, he is never late, which makes you worry. Not that you are friends or more, but that situation was created where you feel you are the duty to.. understand, to know why it is not there.

"Do you know where Minho is?" murmurs to your friends, that are just talking to each other about the last assignment that was hell on earth, your head is in your hands as you look around, your eyes are just looking for one person ad one only.

"y/n, why are you so interested in him?"

Your expression is pure surprise as you look up at your friend, "me? uh, no reason?" You can't lie when your cheeks are getting red just to think about the man that is living in your mind rent free. "you keep asking about him today! and murmuring stuff, do you have a crush on him?"

Their sudden questions makes you close yourself a little in your thoughts, is really like that?, you're not sure, you never named what you felt for Minho before. You just, let it happened, you can't control your feelings. You can hear the door slamming against the wall, shaking the windows a little and that makes you shake silently.

Minho enter into the room, surrounded by silence, no one says a single thing. 'Cause his face is covered in wounds, a split lip and a cut to his eyebrow, you feel dizzy at the sight. "What do you have to look at?"he spits out like he's surprised that everyone is paying attention to him now, they never have before.

But he's hurt, and you can't stand it, you can't stand of the sight of more people hurt. You almost jump off the chair where you're sitting, making a really high pitch sound with it on the floor, now the attention it's all around you. Your friends murmur something to convince you to sit back but you can't. Your eyes are locked in his. You can see his surprise of seeing you standing up for him even if he's not moving any muscle of his face. He knows that you care. More than everyone else.

Your walk is the only sound that the room can hear, your mind keeps whispering: don't do that, don't do that, don't do that. You never skipped a lesson, you never put yourself in trouble, you are always the perfect student. Oh, fuck it.

You grab Minho's hand, he hisses at the feeling of his hand against yours, the skin it's almost burning for the feeling that makes his cheeks red up, but he doesn't want to admit it. You guys walked out of the class, his eyes on you are making you feel so stupid right now.

"what do you think you're doing?" he mumbles letting his hand grab tighter around yours, he's complaining but he's not letting you go.

You just let yourself go to the nursing room, opening the door nd making him take a seat in one of the beds, "let, let me take a look." You try to move away from him but his hand it's still holding yours tight, your breath catches your throat as you take a deep breath, his thumb passing against your knuckles.

He lets you grab some bandages and disinfectant for the cut on his lip, you stand right in front of him, he moves his thighs spread to let you get closer. His hands finish to play with the edge of your skirt, feeling your whole body shakes a little. You can't stop yourself from crying at his injuries, your hands touch his face so gently that he's surprised too.

Minho chuckles as he looks over you his eyes are gentle, feels more warmer than the first time that they ever made eye contact, "why are you crying blondie?"

The nickname makes you chuckle, he's not gonna be the first one to call you like that, and he's never gonna be the last one. "nothing I, I don't like when people I care gets hurt," you sniff and he stays silent, you can't read his face, you never did.

"what happened? if I can ask," for the first time, Minho seems really interested in what you're about to say, so you just let your thoughts speak. "two months ago, my dad's business got under attack from a hero, he stabbed my father and then he left letting him go away with the police, seems like he had an under business with some drugs thing, not sure. I really.. didn't know that, so I don't feel totally okay in the last couple weeks."

His chuckle stops your thoughts and you raise your eyes to look at him, his lips are showing his teeth from the laugh, "a hero? no hero would do that in such a cool way princess," his voice stops before going more into that topic, noticing your confused expression, "I mean, still horrible, but he took your father for a good thing. but I wouldn't call him a hero. pff."

Minho seems almost pissed at the way that you called Deadpool, a hero, you chuckle as you move his jaw to check for other cuts or other injuries, "you seem almost a fan."

"he sounds cool, are you scared of him now?" his voice it's deeper than usual, shivers run down your spine as you stop your actions, his eyes are locked on yours as his hands slowly grab the back of your thighs. "are you scared, bunny?"

"I'm.. not."

"you sounds like," his smirk makes you swallow. He stands up and you are facing him now, well, for the best that you can due your small height. Minho walk slowly towards you and you slightly move more backward, until your back find the wall. You're fucked.

You can't properly speak when his hands travel up to your waist, designing your hips with his fingers as he presses your body against the wall harder, "you seem, scared."

"no! no I'm not.. I'm not scared." you mumble as you close lightly your eyes, he's bending slowly lower in your face, his skin smells like disinfectant, "turn on then?"

His low giggle makes you whimper under his eyes and his touch, because it's definitely a yes, he knows. He knows that his actions have a weird power over you, he suddenly moves away from your body making you whine a little louder than expected. "w-why are you teasing me like that!"

His laugh fills the room, making you blush because it's the first time that he doesn't look like an adult, he doesn't look like someone that you should be scared of. He just looks like Minho. "God you are damn cute bun."

˚　　　　✦　　　.　　. 　 ˚　.　　　　　 . ✦　　　　˚　　　　 . ★⋆.

After that moment he got more and more relaxed, he started to ask you out more and more frequently. He also started to call and text you regularly, using the excuse to make you read his assignments, just to clarify that he didn't made any errors. He's so unaware that you know that's just an excuse to hear from you, but that started to be so normal that you forgot about everything else when Minho comes around. You feel, safe. And he started to feel safe too, he's not hiding under his hood anymore, he smile even more - but only with you, his smile shows bigger with you and your presence around. He looks so, different. He's still your heavy rain, you can't see him otherwise, but the fact that he got closer to you in such a short time makes you feel good. You're not sure to call what you started to have, but your feelings for him are strong enough to make your heart skip a beat when you're walking down the hall from the last class that you just had when his hands cover your eyes, making you jump in surprise. His chuckle reaches your ears, making you blush under his touch, you grab gently his wrists to move his hand down. "I got you again bunny."

"you always get me, min," you chuckle when the guy starts to walk right next to you, his arm around your shoulders as he smiles towards you as you both walk towards the outside, "wanna grab some dinner together?"

You sigh, shaking your head, "sorry, have to work with mom."

"oh, you guys opened the Pizze-?" He starts wondering with his words, not really sure how to really pronounce it, you chuckle as you start to speed up with you walk to pass the green light in time on the sidewalk. "it's Pizzeria, and yes we did. It's hard without my dad but, it's the best that we can do for now."

Minho nods as he walks still beside you not letting you go away from his side, his phone buzz but you're more important right now, "okay then, I'll help."

"you what?"

"h-e-l-p, is it your Italian mind not working today?" he chuckles pressing his index against your forehead, moving you backward move close to his chest. You missed the green light so you stopped walking with the other people, Minho get closer behind you, moving both of his arms on your shoulders. You're so small compare do him, he glances around, like he usually does when he's at work.

His phone buzzes again and you can feel it cause it's in his pocket against your back, "your phone."

"I heard it the first time, still not care about it." he mumbles as he leans his chin on top of your head, the action makes you blush like a teenager. He's getting so touchy in the last period that makes you feel too good to really confess it.

As you guys walk in the green light you can hear a really loud honking, you turn your head just in time before some cobwebs stop the car that was about to crash against you and Minho. Minho moves you behind himself, your tiny body almost disappear behind him.

"Are you okay?" Minho whispers as he holds your shoulders, moving slowly his hands on your cheeks, your surprise and shock stops you from moving every single muscle; you can barely nod as you feel your breath quick up.

That was the first time that you ever saw Spiderman in your life.

TAGLIST -@binnies-binna @ihrtlix @yeahsspider @p0eticjust1c3 @manuosorioh @hanjsquokka @boi-bi-ahaha @im-sinking-in-mud @weareapackofstrays @dprkbyn @cupidcures @i2nsstuff @xtegannoelx @lyramundana @catiuskaa @felinows @5starluvr @kpopsstuffs @xxstrayland @tiapatito202278ok

author note ! I loved writing this chapter so I hope y'all likes it!

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w1ldthoughts · 9 months

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Bad Decisions

A/n: anon requested! Sorry it took me so long, hope it was worth the wait.

Warning: smut

You were a rule follower. Rules were good. They guide us and keep us in line and hopefully prevent us from making detrimental mistakes. And you didn’t want to deal with the consequences of making mistakes so you tried your best to let life take its course. You and Chris dated three years and were engaged for one before you got married. He worked for a private equity firm, had graduated at the top of his class and provided you with a life that most people could only dream of. And your work-from-home job provided you extra security because your mom had always warned you to have your own bank account so you weren’t solely relying on your husband, having money of your own. Chris was a great boyfriend when you met. He was fun and adventurous and kind, who shared all of your hopes and dreams for the future. It felt like you had met your perfect match. But then you got married and he got complacent. There were no more surprise date nights or trips to the Bahamas. Your nights were occupied by stuffy rich-guy dinners, impressing CEOs of various companies and rubbing elbows with trophy wives who hated their husbands. Over time, you eventually became one of them. It wasn’t that Chris was a bad man, he just loved his job more than he would ever love you. And after five years of essentially being ignored, you had hit an emotional wall.

Until you met him.

Chris had dragged you to the Chargers Invitational, a golf tournament that doubled as a fundraiser for the Chargers Impact Fund. Of course, his firm was a big donor and your husband would never miss an opportunity for a photo op and to parade you around like the trophy you’d become. It was humiliating. After shaking hands with countless players, other donors and random people whose names you couldn’t remember, you went inside for a moment of peace. You were nursing your second “Sex on the Beach” cocktail when he grabbed a seat next to you.

“I see you’ve found my hiding spot.” His voice was so soothing, like a warm hug.

It took everything in you not to look up from your drink. “How does the face of the franchise even manage to hide at team events? Don’t you have treaties to sign and babies to kiss?”

He laughed and placed his drink on the table. “You make me sound like European royalty, which I am very much not.” He holds a hand out for you to shake, a wide smile plastered on his face when you finally decide to meet his gaze. “I’m Justin by the way, it’s a pleasure to meet you.”

“I know who you are, golden boy,” you utter softly, your heart beating in your ears. “I’m y/n.”

From the first day, you felt it. That spark, that unspoken tension in the room that was obvious to both of you. But then you looked down at your left hand and were reminded of the commitment you made and you couldn’t do it. But of course the universe wanted to punish you anyway. Chris’ firm had partnered with the Chargers during the offseason which included a few appearances at Sofi stadium. Chris was in New York for a conference during one of these appearances and begged you to go. The donors were to be partnering with a player and collecting donations for a non-profit benefiting the Los Angeles inner city area. Of course, you were partnered up with Justin. He was clad in a black suit that fit him perfectly and the two of you made your rounds, collecting a total of $15,000 in donations by the end of the night. You were getting ready to order your Uber when Justin offered to take you home.

“Can we make a quick stop on the way?” You asked and he nodded, laughing to himself when you told him where you wanted to go.

The two of you sat in the parking lot of Dairy Queen, thoroughly enjoying your blizzards. “When I was in college, my parents used to get these for us all the time, this reminds me of home a little bit.”

“I’m a sucker for ice cream. Very much into the whole dessert before dinner thing. Also an advocate for dessert after dinner. It’s nice to have someone to share it with for a change.” You whisper sadly.

He looks at you with an equally dejected expression. “I don’t mean to pry but, do you and your husband not eat together?”

“Oh it’s fine.” You wave him off. “Um, we don’t do anything together. Not anymore. I am basically married to myself most of the time and he makes a cameo appearance when it’s a money making opportunity.” You laugh sadly, disappointed at how your life has gone.

“I don’t know, it’s like he only married me because it looks good to have a wife on your arm when it comes to talking to investors. Being a husband makes you look more trustworthy with people’s money in a sense.”

“That is…terrible.” He exclaims. “You should be with someone who makes you happy and cherishes every waking moment because they get to wake up next to you. And of course, someone to enjoy blizzards with.”

“You deserve more.”

When he said that, something in you broke. You reached over to cup his face in your hands and kissed him like you’ve never kissed anyone before. There was so much fire and desire in the kiss, until he pulled away.

“Y/n, I don’t know if we should do this. If we start, I don’t know if I’ll be able to stop.”

“Then don’t.” You said simply.

He connected your lips again, his tongue gaining access to the inside of your mouth with a muffled moan as you smiled into the kiss. It had been so long since you’d been kissed this way that it sent shivers down every inch of your body. When he dropped you off at home, you couldn’t wait to do it again.

So you did…for the next three months.

You spent every waking moment you could together. You surprised him one weekend by renting out a place in Oregon when he went home. And you spent countless nights in his house watching movies and bonding with his cat. As much as you had prided yourself in following the rules before, you couldn’t help but feel the most alive you’d ever felt when you were with Justin. He was kind and dedicated to his job but when he was with you it wasn’t about football, it was about life and the endless possibilities of the world. A world that had gone gray for you during your marriage. A world that was now full of vibrant colors because you were definitely falling in love with the Chargers quarterback. You needed to have a talk with your husband when he came home from his latest work trip.

“Well…Chris just texted to let me know that he’s not coming home until Monday so, we have the place to ourselves for the next two days. What do you wanna do?” You beamed at him, wrapping your arms around his waist.

The look on his face didn’t match your excitement. “What are we doing here? I mean, I thought this was just going to be a short fling where we have a little fun and then pretend it never happened. But I don’t think I can do that anymore. I can’t do this anymore.”

Your face drops, “Justin what—what do you mean you can’t do this anymore?”

“I mean that I’m in love with a married woman and if I keep doing this I’m just going to end up looking like an idiot when you inevitably choose him over me. Not sure I can handle that.” He sighs, your foreheads touching before he takes a step back. “I should go, I’m so sor—”

“Justin, I love you.” You state honestly, stopping him in his tracks. “I love you, not Chris. And you’re right it’s not fair to you. I’m going to talk to him when he gets home and ask for a divorce. Someone reminded me that I deserve more. And I think I’ve found it. It’s you.”

The way he tipped your chin up to kiss you spoke louder than any words he could say. Both of his hands tenderly held your face, allowing the two of you to melt into the kiss as you grabbed onto his shirt to pull him in even closer. “I love you too,” he mumbled against your lips when you broke apart for a breath. He led you upstairs, taking his time with you, his fingers finding your sweet spot and talking you through your first orgasm. His movements were slow and meticulous, taking his time with you as he felt his own arousal increase by the second at your sounds of pleasure. You watched in anticipation as he rolled the condom on and made his way back to you in bed. Your arms were lazily placed around his neck as your stomachs were pressed against each other and his lips placed chaste kisses along your neck and shoulder. Allowing yourself to fully relax at the feeling of his pillowy lips, Justin lined himself up against your entrance and pushed in slowly, waves of ecstasy flooding the room. He maintained a steady rhythm with his thrusts, holding one of your hands against the bed while his other hand held your hips steady, your moans matching his strength for strength like you were perfectly made for each other. You squeezed his fingers in the hand that was firmly holding yours, eyes falling shut. It had been so long since you felt wanted, loved and cared for. This was the first time in a long time that you felt beautiful. And then he abruptly stopped.

“Are you okay? Should—should we stop?” He sounded breathless as he pulled out and you opened your eyes to see a slight glimmer on his skin.

“Yeah I’m fine,” you barely got out, “more than fine.” Justin ran his thumb under your eye to wipe a tear that you hadn’t even felt coming down your face. “This is just so much better than I could imagine and I guess it just got me emotional.” You let out a wet laugh and he joined in, wrapping his arms around you and holding you until you fell asleep.

You woke up to the sound of the front door opening and Chris walked up the stairs to find you and Justin in bed.

“I came home early to surprise you but I guess I’m the one who’s surprised.” He bit out.

Your life as a rule follower has definitely just become a lot more interesting.

#justin herbert #justin herbert imagine #justin herbert smut #nfl imagine #Justin Herbert x reader #Justin Herbert fanfic

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lilac-hecox · 9 months

Note

For Anthony's Day! Ian and Anthony celebrating his birthday together for the first time in forever. It's an intimate thing nothing too extravagant but good food and company and maybe a final confession as a birthday gift? Idk just ianthony cuteness

Ian/Anthony (Ianthony) - Sixteen Candles

“Have you ever seen the movie Sixteen Candles?” Ian asks. He adjusts his glasses, something he does when he’s a little nervous, that’s something new about him that Anthony has learned. Though, why Ian is nervous, Anthony doesn’t know. It’s just the two of them at Anthony’s place. It’s Anthony’s birthday, but the last thing he wanted was a big party or a lot of attention. Work has been intense lately, both Smosh and his solo channel. Anthony’s been tired, and he can’t say he is exactly thrilled at turning thirty-six years old.

So, when Ian suggested that he and Anthony go and grab dinner at Anthony’s favorite vegan restaurant, Anthony was quick to agree, happy to have a quiet evening with his best friend than a huge party with a lot of people. Most of the time, Ian was who he wanted to spend all his time with anyway. As they had eaten Anthony thought about New York, about missing Ian’s birthday, about calling the waiters over to bring a dessert to Ian and sing to him. Anthony had half-heartedly worried that this was going to be his payback, seven years later, but Ian granted him mercy and didn’t have anyone sing to him. Instead, they laughed together, shared stories, memories, nostalgia for birthdays past.

After the restaurant they ended up at Anthony’s place, intent on watching a movie that Ian had been begging him to watch. Drinking glasses of whiskey, sitting side by side on Anthony’s couch.

“No, is that what you wanted to watch?” Anthony asks, using the remote to begin searching for the title of the movie on the streaming service.

Ian smiles, a soft tilt of his mouth. “Not really, you probably wouldn’t like it. I barely like it.”

“Okay,” Anthony says. Ian’s caught his interest. He never really knows where Ian is going with something, but he’s always eager to follow, to find where his train of thought will lead them, “so, why bring it up?”

Ian leans forward and picks up his glass of alcohol, taking a sip before setting it back down on the coffee table in front of them. He wipes his mouth with the back of his hand and then stands up, from the couch, tilting his head towards the direction of the dining room.

“Follow me,” Ian says, instead of explaining shit.

Anthony stands, following Ian to the dining room of Anthony’s house.

“In the movie,” Ian says, as they walk, “all you really need to know is that there’s a girl and a boy, girl likes boy, boy doesn’t know she exists, then at the very end they find their way to each other.”

“Sounds like most rom coms,” Anthony says.

“Right,” Ian says. Then, they are in the kitchen and Ian stops the two of them in the darkened space, “There’s kind of an iconic scene in the movie. It’s been parodied a lot. All you really need to know is that the girl, it’s her birthday, and the guy surprises her.”

Anthony’s brow furrows. Ian is smiling like an idiot and it makes Anthony smile despite the feeling of nerves rising up inside of him. Ian keeps walking and he leads Anthony into the dining room. The lights are off, but in the center of the long table is a cake, small, professionally decorated.

“How the hell did you manage to set up a cake in here without me knowing?” Anthony asks, turning to look at Ian.

Ian shrugs, “You were in the bathroom, and I made sure to hurry.”

“So,” Anthony says with a laugh, though his heart fills with fondness for his best friend, for what he did. Ian has always been more of a show and less of a tell kind of person. It was like that with the get-well card back in the day, with this cake now, he is less likely to tell Anthony that he cares about him but more likely to show it in small gestures like this, in surprising him with a birthday cake, “you’re saying you set me up my own Sixteen Candles iconic scene?”

Ian nods, his eyes bright, and he fidgets again, nerves peeking through his actions.

“Except it isn’t the full scene yet. Our actors need to be in place.”

Anthony smiles, glancing at the set-up before he looks back at Ian.

“Alright, direct me.”

Anthony swears he sees the lightest flush of pink color Ian’s cheeks, but it’s hard to tell in the dimness of the room.

“You and I sit on top of the table, legs crossed, across from each other on opposite sides of the cake,” Ian explains, his voice smaller, Anthony knows it from when he is doubting himself and his ideas, when he acts like he isn’t thinking of pure genius.

Anthony nods and tugs at the sleeve of Ian’s jacket, “C’mon then.”

They recreate the scene easily. Anthony on the right side of the cake, Ian on the left, their legs folded so they both fit on top of the long dining room table.

“It is vegan,” Ian says after a moment of silence. Maybe he sees the hint of confusion on Anthony’s face because he waves a hand at the dessert between them, “the cake, I mean.”

“I never had any doubts,” Anthony says. He feels that soft squeeze in his heart. Ian did this for him, put this together for no reason besides that he wanted to, that he wanted to do this for Anthony.

“Finishing touches,” Ian says, fishing into the pocket of his jacket before he pulls out a lighter. It’s then that Anthony notices the long thin candles stuck into the surface of the cake. Not sixteen, not thirty-six either. It’s a strategic smattering of candles, Ian using that filmmaker’s eye to predict the perfect amount.

Ian flicks the lighter to life and lights the candles and then the room glows around them in a hazy orange, light and shadow dancing across Ian’s face as he leans back and settles into his spot, tucking his lighter back into his pocket.

“So, how does the movie end?” Anthony finds himself asking, his voice quieter than it should be, but he can feel an undercurrent of magic in this moment, and he doesn’t want to disrupt it, he wants to live alongside of it, exist in this moment with Ian, no matter where it leads.

Ian glances at him, candlelight caught in his glasses and Anthony can barely see the blue of his eyes, but he knows it’s there.

“I’m going to, um, go a little off script here,” Ian says, and he sounds nervous now.

“I trust you,” Anthony says with a smile, because he does, he always will.

“I’m glad to spend your birthday with you,” Ian says, “just the two of us. It makes me feel like a kid again in some ways, where we’d spend the night with each other on our birthdays, eat cake ‘till we felt sick, and laugh all night.”

Anthony grins at the memory, frosting and Ian’s laugh, and the warmth of knowing you had a constant companion always at your side. He’s missed that feeling these last few birthdays. There were always people, always well-wishes, but never Ian. Never who Anthony wanted to see the most.

“I’m glad you’re here with me,” Anthony says, his own face feeling warm and his heart feeling full. He feels the damn pinpricks of affection poking at him, threatening to make him tear up and really it is only Ian and their shared memories and history that has this effect on him. “Thank you for this. You’re my best friend.”

Ian nods, “What if…what if I wanted to be more than that now?”

Anthony blinks, feels like he’s been punched, but in a good way. All the air knocked out of his lungs, but something new filling him, like he’s evolved past the need for oxygen.

“What?”

Ian straightens his jacket, “Since we reconnected I…God, man, you know I’m shitty at this right?” Ian laughs and Anthony feels a smile crack across his face even though he can barely breathe in this moment, “I can feel myself falling in love with you.” “Ian,” Anthony says, breathless, surprised. This was the last thing he expected, but it felt like everything he’s ever wanted, but been too afraid to ask for, a wish he’s convinced himself he’ll never get to have. Deep down, he knows it’s true for Ian, for himself too.

“It’s okay if you don’t feel the same way!” Ian says quickly, “I understand it’s-“

“Stop,” Anthony says, and he reaches around the cake, safely avoiding the fire as he takes Ian’s hand in his own, rubbing his thumb across the back of Ian’s hand. “I feel it too.”

Ian smiles, shaky, a little breathless of his own.

Anthony keeps rubbing his thumb across the smooth skin of Ian’s hand.

“Will you tell me how the movie ends?” Anthony asks, feeling he already has an idea.

“It ends like any good teenaged romance. The girl gets her movie perfect kiss.”

Anthony smiles, leans in, careful of the candles he can feel the warmth from. Ian mimics the motion, copying him, their faces close together.

“Happy birthday, Anthony,” Ian whispers, Anthony can feel the heat from the words on his face.

“Thank you, Ian.”

Then, they meet in the middle, their lips touching in a movie perfect kiss.

#ianthony #☀️🔍#smosh fic #smosh fics #anthonys day #anthony's day #Anthony's Day #prompts #anthony's day prompts #fluff #birthday fluff #ty anon!!#fyi i have never seen sixteen candles i just know this one scene #and it wouldn't leave my head #so here we are #my writing

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draftsandrecs · 5 months

Text

Pairing: Bucky X Reader

Summary: Reader and Bucky often dream about each other. Which isn't weird until you realize that they're strangers in two different states who have never met.

Word Count: 3,305

Warnings: 18+, a little bit of smut

Taglist: @jbbarnes-dog-tags

The recurring dreams began about six months ago. At first it just seemed like any normal dream. Walking around your hometown, grocery shopping, being back in high school. But the same pattern wasn’t a place or theme. It was a person, but someone you know you’ve never met or seen online or in other media forms. But anytime you interacted with them you felt drawn to them like you knew them. At first the same man was another customer in a grocery store or someone you asked the time for. But now wherever you go when you dream or what you do, he is there.

You often wake up not remembering your entire dream the night before. But you do know it had to be with him regardless of adventure or mundane task that you went on. You figured out that lucid dreaming is what you’ve been experiencing. At least based on the few Google and Reddit searches you’ve done. It led you through a rabbit hole filled with academic papers, blogs, and of course Reddit users' opinions. Which actually made you feel a lot less alone and crazy. Lately you’ve been questioning yourself if the dreams you have been having are just dreams or if there’s more to them. There’s a small part of you that wonders if they are just dreams then why is it the same person showing up over and over again. But if it isn’t just a dream and something more, is the dream being shared as well?

Friday Night’s Dream

You’ve never visited New York before but here it is. The subway entrance nearby welcomes regular crowds, billboards galore light up with ads, and tourists walk amongst themselves. As you stand there watching the world move around you, you hear a familiar voice.

“Hey! Come on, I want to show you a place nearby.” There he is standing in front of you now. A smile lays on his face as he holds out his arm to grab.

“Lead the way.” You say grabbing his arm. His denim jacket feels warm against your thin top. His presence as always makes you feel warm.

You and him walk through a set of doors that immediately send you down a flight of stairs before coming to an entrance. A bright sign that outlines ‘JAZZ CLUB’ catches your attention. The place is dimly lit with soothing music playing. Patrons are spread out through the place talking to each other, dancing, or smoking cigars. It feels like a time capsule that few people know exists.

You’re led to a table near a wall secluded from most others. A small lamp is attached on the wall by the tables for light to brighten up the dark atmosphere. He gets to your chair before you do, allowing you to sit down. You say a small thank you as he sits across from you.

“I see you put your best outfit on.” He says teasingly pointing out that you’re wearing pajamas compared to his attire.

“Well excuse me, if I would’ve known you were taking me here tonight I would’ve worn my going out pajamas to bed.” He laughs at your comeback, making your heart swell. His laugh is something you always remember even if you have no recollection of your conversation.

“You smoke?” He takes a puff out of his cigar that just appeared, letting little rings fill the air.

“Cigars, no. I’ve never taken an interest.” He hands you the cigar, lighting the end again to get a better burn.

“Don’t inhale, just suck in.” You do as he says, sucking in then removing the cigar as you blow the smoke out.

“It’s sweet. What is that?” The taste is decadent on your buds. Almost like a dessert.

He takes the cigar back to taste it again,“It’s like chocolate? Maybe even espresso,” he continues smoking before asking if you enjoyed it.

“Maybe but I probably won't do it again. Not my thing. Though it is by far better than cigarettes.”He hums in understanding as he discards the ashes of the cigar into a tray.

You’re aware. You’re aware of the building you’re in. The dark lights and little lamps around you. The smoke that travels through out the space. You know you don’t have much time left before you are about to wake up.

“You’re in a dream.” You tell him quickly, wanting to ask him a question.

“I know, you are too.” He says it like it’s the most natural thing in the world.

“What’s your name?” You’re rushing now feeling yourself half asleep half awake not wanting to forget his reply.

“James, don’t forget it.” How could you?

Saturday Morning

His voice is still in your head when you wake up.

James. James. You repeat his name a few times letting it settle on your tongue. You’re almost tempted to google his name and the city you were in but lord knows how many James that live in New York there are. (You did in fact look up how many there were and it was well over 20,000 people). You know you’re not crazy. But you wish you had some form of confirmation that it wasn’t just you observing, dreaming, a part of it. This is an experience you’re having with someone.An experience you’re sharing with James.

“I’ll have the french toast please with syrup on the side thank you.” You hand the waitress your menu as she writes your order down before leaving the table.

“Any new dreams or the same old same guy?” Wanda asks next you as she sips on her mimosa.

“No new dreams but I did get some information. I was finally able to ask a question.” You feel proud of yourself. You know your friends don’t not believe you. But you can even see that you may just be stressed or reading too much fiction.

Natasha’s perked up at this answer, both girls have been following this ‘saga’ since the beginning.

“We were in New York and I was wearing pajamas. Don’t know why, but anyway he took me to an underground jazz club. It was really neat and vintage. You know how when you’re dreaming you kinda know when you’re about to wake up? Or like that half asleep half awake?”

“Yes! I hate that, it’s always during the good part of a dream too. And you can never go back to the dream again.” Wanda chimes in with her own experience.

Natasha nods at you encouraging you to continue.

“Exactly! Well usually I wake up before I can’t even ask anything but I was able to ask for his name. His name is James.” You’re so excited to share the information you’re beaming.

Natasha and Wanda exchange a look.

“James. Just James? No address or instagram handle? Not even a last name?” Natasha smirks at you poking fun.

You know she means well. She isn’t trying to downplay or hurt your feelings. But she is a realist after all. It’s why you love her. She’s honest and upfront.

“Look I didn’t have much time, okay? I got nervous.” You pout and sink into your chair chewing on your lip.

“It’s okay Y/N, you have his name at least. Maybe now you can figure out more about him.” Wanda’s words of support make you feel a little better.

Hopefully the french toast can help bury your feelings.

‘Okay, two melatonins, Or should I do one? I’m a grown adult. I'll do two. It is the weekend after all. If I knock out till the afternoon then who cares.’ You chew both gummies before washing it down with some sleepy bear tea. You can’t recall the name of the brand but it’s the one with the bear sleeping in the chair. Fingers crossed you’ll end up like him soon.

Saturday Night’s Dream

Your body is relaxed, you feel so lightweight that you feel like you're sinking into the bed. You can still hear the faint hum of the air conditioner and the sounds of cars passing by. You know you’re seconds away from a deep sleep. Until you’re not. Your body is frozen, paralyzed. Sleep paralysis is occurring.

You curse yourself in your mind telling yourself that you should’ve never taken two melatonins. Now. you’re stuck for who knows how long. Your eyes stare ahead. You’re watching the shadows of the car lights pass through the blinds. Projecting slightly onto the wall in front of you. Your dresser sits beside the door. You make a mental note to clean it off soon. There’s way too many things cluttering that piece of furniture. An unfamiliar sound catches your attention quickly, your bedroom door knob is rattling like someone is trying to get in. Now, you’re no stranger to hallucinations during sleep paralysis but hardly ever when on your stomach. But you’re on your back this time. You brace yourself as the door begins to open, trying to scream but only a whimper comes out. Mouth forced shut, heart beating a million miles.

The hallway light is off when the door creaks open a little. You can’t see the figure but you can feel it. You shut your eyes scared to see anything even if it’s nothing. You begin reciting every prayer you know. Praying you can somehow move your body to get you out of this.

“We don’t usually meet like this.” James' voice breaks the silence.

Your eyes shot open, finding him in the doorway with that stupid looking grin he always wears.

Before you know it you’re speaking with ease, “you scared me half to death. How’d you even find me?” Your body relaxes, supporting you to gain control of it.

“I don’t know actually. I thought of you and I was then standing in front of a door.” He walks in, looking around the room.

“Sorry, I just got scared. Sometimes I see scary stuff when I get sleep paralysis,” You’re sitting up in the bed now. Hoping you look someone decent. It feels personal now that he’s in your space when all you know is his name.

“Oh no, I get that. Sleep paralysis is no joke. Especially when you start making up scary stuff.” At least he understands. You aren’t the only scaredy cat.

He motions to sit on the bed which you nod yes in confirmation. He’s sitting on the edge of the bed which makes you feel compelled to get closer. You sit in front of him, knees tucked to the side. Wanting to be in his embrace. Wanting to be as close as possible to him.

“You know my name, It’s only fair I know yours, Don’t you think?” His question makes you stop for a second. This is a confirmation that it isn’t one sided. It isn’t crazy- you aren’t crazy.

“Wait, you remember yesterday’s dream the on-” You’re cut off as he finishes your question.

“At the jazz club, yes.” His answer continues, “I wanted to ask what your name was but you left too soon. I wanted a pretty name to match the pretty face.” His pickup line makes your face breakout into a smile.

“My name is Y/N. Y/N Y/L/N.” You hold out your hand for formalities, half joking half not.

“It’s nice to meet you Y/N. I’m James Buchanan Barnes.” Your hands meet, his overtaking yours and your heart skips a beat.

Even in the dark room the light from outside shines in just enough for you to see his face clearer than in dreams. His eyes are incredible. Pulling you in with its color, He has a stubble that most men can’t get away with but he could probably pull off anything. You realize you’re staring, you both are. You find yourself wanting to kiss him. But would it be wrong or should you ask for consent? Technically it is a dream of sorts, it wouldn't be bad. Oh fuck it kiss him.

Your brain shuts off as you grab his face to kiss him. Your lips meet his and it’s as if fireworks are going off inside your body. You can’t help but feel- actually feel how real this experience is. The softness of his lips along with the roughness of the kiss absolutely make you go feral for more. For him. You're dominating his upper lip, kissing like you’ve been touch starved for ages. His hands find their way to your waist, pulling you closer. You enjoy the control you have as the kiss deepens allowing you to set the pace.

Before you know it both your clothes are off and nowhere to be found. He’s inside of you, you’re on top riding him. His cock feels so delicious inside of you. Completely stretching you out and deeply sitting inside. Your cunt molds around him to fit like it was made for him. You grind against him wondering how life like this feels. And how you never want it to stop. He’s staring up at you in admiration holding your hips letting you go at your own pace. You feel so full. He’s as deep as he can be and it feels like nothing you’ve ever experienced. It feels incredible, pleasurable, and magical. You’ve never felt so secure in front of anybody especially during something so intimate. It makes you feel free knowing you don’t have to hide yourself as he accepts you for you. James wants you for you.

“I’ve missed you.” His words come out clearly. You know he doesn’t mean miss when it comes to skipped dreams but real life.

“I know, I’ve missed you too.” You lean down to kiss him, letting him take control this time.

Sunday Morning

Your body is riddled with anxiety as you and Natasha search for James Bunchanan Barnes. James B Barnes. James Barnes. James, James, James.

“I’m sorry but I literally can’t find anything about him. Not from his full name or variations. Or even narrowing it to New York. Maybe we got the wrong last name like you misheard it?” Her voice is full of sympathy as she looks up from the computer. You’ve been at this for hours racking through New York’s white pages, Facebook, Instagram, even Linkedin.

“No, I know I had it right. I know. Maybe it’s just a dream I don’t know.” You sit down on your couch in defeat feeling awful. Maybe you were crazy and your brain just made this man up.

“How about we take a break, we’ve been at this for a while you know?” She gets up to stretch her legs as you continue to sit in your misery.

“Yeah that’s probably for the best. I just don’t understand why the clues aren’t adding up. Like why always place me in New York and take me to places-” Your heart stops for a second as you stop talking to grab the laptop.

“What?” Natasha sits beside you confused as you type furiously on the search bar.

Once you’re done you turn the page towards her. On Facebook there’s a profile page for a bar and cigar lounge called ‘JAZZ CLUB’.

“No way. There’s got to be a few tagged people or likes.” She opens up the app on her phone to help find the profile.

After 30 minutes you and Natasha were able to cross reference likes, comments, shares, other profiles to find James. Except it’s not James. It’s Bucky. Bucky Barnes.

Monday Morning

You called into work excusing yourself because of covid. You weren’t sick or in bed. You were in New York. You booked a ticket within the same hour you found his profile. Natasha was very reluctant to let you go but she also knew that once you set your mind to something you weren;t going to stop. She made sure to book a hotel for a night in case you ended up not being able to find any more traces of James/Bucky.

You arrived at 1pm with nothing but your phone, wallet, and the clothes on your back. The profile had no picture, no birthday, or anything except a job location. It was a record store that seemed to sell used and new vinyls of all genres. You used Apple Maps to guide you to the store. You were too anxious to get a taxi and instead began walking. You also wanted some time to yourself to play out some scenarios of what might happen, what could happen, and your plans to cry yourself to sleep if all else fails.

Your heart performs palpitations as the road on the map gets more narrow counting down how many feet you are. All until you’re standing right in front of the small looking store. The sign looks like it hasn’t been painted since the day it was put on. The store itself looks like it could be run down itself and abandoned until you see a group of teenagers walk out laughing about something that you don’t hear. Just go in. Literally go in. Open the door, step in, and ask for him. That’s all you have to do. But it feels like more than that. It feels like hanging your feet off a cliff and asking yourself to jump.

‘Okay calm it, You kissed and you had sex. Just walk in, ask for him and leave. Maybe you’ll even get a vinyl out of it.’

You’re walking in right as you finish your pep talk. The store is larger than expected. Posters hang on the walls along with shelves displaying records and stickers. There’s aisles of records in milk crates and wooden boxes with scribbled handwriting identifying the alphabetical order and genre.

“Welcome to Lucid Dreaming, I’m Steve, let me know if I can help you find anything.” A male’s voice pulls you from the record stacks. He’s standing near a box unloading a shipment it looks like. He’s tall and blonde, looks far too clean cut for this kind of store. But kind nonetheless.

“Actually, I was wondering if you could help me find someone.” You almost regret even asking, cringing on the inside in case you made a mistake.

“I can try, shoot.” He’s stops working to focus on you.

“Do you know a James or Bucky? I’m not sure the name he goes by actually.” Your voice trails off not trying to stutter or make a complete fool of yourself.

“Yeah, he’s the co-owner of this place. He said he needed to step out for a minute but let me check in the office. Just give me one sec!”His eyes light up as he heads to the door behind him labeled ‘EMPLOYEES ONLY’. At least he knows a James or Bucky. That gives you some hope.

You can’t believe it. You’re seconds away from meeting your potential soulmate or being crushed. Either way at least you tried. You’re mindlessly flipping through records as the door opens and you look up to find not only Steve walking out but James. Your James. The one from your shared dreams. The one from last night and the night before. Exactly as you pictured even down to the stubble. Your heart feels like it’s going to pound out of your chest as your eyes meet. James looks like a deer caught in headlights. Eyes wide and no words. Steve looks between you and Bucky trying to understand the connection.

“You know her?” Steve asks, trying to get an answer of what’s going on as Bucky walks towards you.

Bucky’s voice almost breaks in disbelief, not taking his eyes off you as he replies to Steve.“It’s her. It’s the girl from the dreams.” Bucky whispers the last part as he is now standing in front of you, “The girl of my dreams”.

#bucky barnes x reader #bucky barnes x you #bucky x reader #bucky barns fanfiction #bucky barns imagine #draftsandrecs #bucky barnes x y/n #bucky barnes fluff

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lilaclaufeyson · 6 months

Text

Tolerate It

trigger warnings: anger? I tried to make this gender neutral bc there’s no description of the reader. angst, a bit of anxiety idk lol thanks for reading

You had planned this dinner out for weeks. Every detail was planned out, down to the color of the napkins. It was your second anniversary, and you were delusional enough to believe he could propose. You had taken the time to research Asgaridian dinner traditions and superstitions. You had gone out and bought gold plates, cups, and silverware. You wanted everything to be perfect for him. You dressed in your best green attire.

You took hours, days even to prepare dinner and dessert. The candles you bought were his favorite scent, and were placed strategically around the dining room to provide just enough ambient lighting. Everything was set and ready. Everything was perfect. And so you sat, waiting at your end of the table, waiting. Every second felt like eons, dripping past as slow as honey.

Half an hour passed similarly before Loki passed through the front door of your New York City flat. He was dressed in his usual black two-piece suit. You shot up immediately, smiling wide as you made your way to see him. He was toeing off his shoes to the shoe rack you kept by the door. The front door opened to the living room, and then an archway to your dining room as well as your bedroom on the other side. He only looked up as your arms wrapped around him, beaming. He glanced at you, not returning your smile for more than a second.

“Welcome home, don’t you look handsome.” You coo at him. He moved away from you to move towards the dining room. He sighed.

“What have you cooked tonight?” He asked, and paused before continuing, “I surely hope it is still warm. I am sorry to have kept you waiting.” He sat down then at the opposite end of the table. You hurried over, unveiling the dishes in the center of the table in lieu of an answer. You were beaming, a nervously excited smile graced your face.

“Only some of your favorites, from home. I hope they are good.” You knock into the corner of the table on your way back to your seat. You glance up at him to notice the irritated crease form between his eyebrows briefly. He slowly starts to put some food on his plate, silent the whole time. The anxiety of cooking the foreign food mixed with his silence is eating you alive. He hadn’t even realized you were dressed up yet. You figured he had had a hard day at Stark Industries.

You get a plate only after he has started eating. It is quiet for a couple minutes, save for the clink of silverware hitting your plates. You are eating slowly, the cuisine is good enough for you, but not your favorite cup of tea. The silence was killing you, so you spoke up.

“How was your day?” Your voice felt too quiet in the silence, cascading through the air like a leaf in autumn.

“Twas fine. Passed just as any other day.” He replied, his tone short. It had taken him a moment to respond because he finished chewing first. You just nodded in response. He did not seem like talking. You pushed what was left of your meal around your plate, your appetite slowly dwindling. Did he not even remember what day it was? A handful of quiet moments pass before you notice he is starting to get up. He left his napkin by his plate. As he passes by you to get to the bedroom, he kisses the top of your head.

After he leaves, you feel the tension uncoil from your spine. You sagged in the chair like a rag doll. A deep breath in and out occurred before you got up to clean up. You binned up all of the leftovers before hand washing each dish. You dried them after you were finished and put them back in the cabinet you allotted for them. You put the untouched dessert in the fridge. Lastly, you blew all of the candles out. You sat back down in the dining room, elbows on the table and head in your hands.

You do not know how much time passed, but Loki was soon back out of the bedroom, freshly showered. You jumped a little, spooking out of your stupor. He sat down on the couch, glancing at you with some philosophy book in his grasp. The watch on his wrist paired with the plain white t-shirt, sweatpants, and his black wet hair pushed back was devilishly handsome. You sighed, thinking about how you used to be able to curl up next to him while he read on the couch, laughing about his boring reading preferences.

“What are you all dressed up for, darling?” He had just opened the book, looking away from you. Your breath caught in your throat, a few tears slipping right down your face almost instantly. No sounds left your body, but you turned to look at him. How dare he pair that sweet endearment with such harsh words. You just looked at him while tears continued down your face.

His book slammed shut after your continued silence. “Now what could you ever be crying about? You had the day off,” He scoffed, mumbling something. You gulped, wiping your face.

“You don’t remember what today is, do you?” You asked, voice unwavering despite the tears. The sadness in your veins was being replaced with anger. He furrowed his brows at you.

“It is only Tuesday. Have I missed something?” He asked, his voice slowly filling with anger. You huffed, standing from where you were previously sitting. “It is only Tuesday?” You hiss, arms crossing over your chest. “Only Tuesday? It is only our second anniversary!” You raised your voice, but not quite to a yell. He seemed to think, but only for a second before he also stood.

“Two years is almost nothing to a God, (y/n). I have roamed this very universe for hundreds of years!” His hands flew wildly in frustration. All emotion leaves your body to refill with dread before he continues, “You try doing as I do every day and remembering what day of the week it even is!” His voice is louder than yours, you realize. He was always the one who remembered the anniversary of your first kiss or the day you moved in together. Your breath seemed to escape your lungs all in one go.

“Nothing to a God,” You mumble, “alright, I must go. I think we need to spend some time apart, Loki. I’ll be back tomorrow to pack my things.” You back up, heading towards the bedroom to pack some things. You realize he doesn't try to stop you. How could he not even realize when he was wrong?

You called your friend, asking if you could stay the night. As you carried your bag to the living room and towards the front door, you glanced back at Loki. Savagely, Loki was sitting back down on the couch, reading like nothing had happened between you two mere minutes before.

#angst #loki x reader #loki laufeyson #au #loki au #idk i was listening to music and this happeened #ive never done this before be nice #pls

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spiritually-a-blorb · 8 months

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I LOVE MONSTER HIGHHHHHH AHHHHHH

so here are some headcannons/movie ideas beacuse we deserve movies like the originals

- If Elizabat had died, Draculara would have actually been the Vampire Queen

- On that note, I think the Vampire's Heart picks two candidates, and whoever is best suited for ruling will be the one the Heart chooses to follow, so if one dies, the Heart just follows to the other person

- In a stipulation included in the contract Clawdeen signed, the one chosen in the competition would inherit Monatella Ghostier's company and fortune if she were to die, making it more believable that she was "passing on" her company.

- Clawdeen now owns a fashion company, long story short, and she collabs with Jinafire and Skelita to help make fashion designs for the company. Everything else is taken care of until Clawdeen is of age

- Lagoona runs a swim team that tries to unite saltwater and freshwater monsters, along with Gil. She also helps monsters get over their fears.

- Ghoulia runs a quiz bowl and mathlete team! Her and Frankie are some of the star members, along with Jackson Hyde and Heath!

- Speaking of Heath, I feel like he gets surprisingly good grades, and knows a lot of random facts

- Frankie plays volleyball! She's pretty good at it, actually. one of her main reasons was she wants to improve her strength in limbs, since Frankenstein's are typically really strong monsters. Plus, she wants to get stronger so her limbs don't keep flying off whenever she falls. The fearleading team is good for some of that, but volleyball gives her stamina and concentration, since her limbs are more prone to flying off when she's tired.

- Abby loves making traditional food for her friends, along with ice cream and desserts. She specializes in colder dishes, like cold soup and other things served cold, but she's good at everything, really.

- She knows exactly what temperature the food is when she touches it, and it works with any object, really.

- Cleo offers to show the girls around Egypt and the Pyramids, and they learn that Cleo caught the attention of the next Pharaoh, and he funds a lot of her shopping. She dosen't know how to feel, since she loves Deuce, but she also feels obligated to the Pharaoh.

- If this was a movie, the lesson would be about toxic couples, and how Cleo goes back to Deuce because she shouldn't be obligated to date the Pharaoh because he buys her stuff. It also features Deuce not feeling good enough against the Pharaoh, and Cleo showing that she loves him for him, not what he provides.

- It would be kinda similar to Boo York, but since it already happened, he would be grappling with an issue that's already been "resolved". It would show that some issues take time to heal, and even then, they might not fully heal.

- All of the girls would've slayed at Just Dance and we should've gotten an episode or movie about friendly competition to teach kids to be good sports.

- The movie would focus on a schoolwide competition, and show different ways to be kind to your opponent and the people being unkind, how to spot it, and how to stop it. They showed that a little in the rollerblading movie, but I think it would be good to focus on it more

- Frankie being non-binary in the reboot is actually really cool, and that is now canon thank you. It would be a good lesson on how people can struggle with dysphoria and would just be really cool to focus on that on a movie, like how she discovered it, her friends being supportive, the whole coming out experience.

MOVING ON FROM POTENTIAL MOVIES BEACUSE I TORTURE MYSELF WITH POSSBILITES AND I CANNOT DO IT ANYMORE

- Spectra grows up to be the new principal of the ghost school. She brings good quality education to the school, and causes major reform in ghost society and how they view other monsters.

- Abby always has candy in her purse for her ghoulfriends

- whenever the girls go out to eat, they always pick a place with vegetarian options for Draculaura

- Clawdeen almost got expelled for fighting students when she was younger. They insulted her friends and family and she went nuts. To this day students are scared of her. But she's a lot calmer now, and prefers to solve her problems with words. Get her mad enough though, and she will start swinging.

- Draculaura is a pacifist!

- Ghoulia has little plants growing on her body. She's a reanimated corpse, so her body is stuck in a rotting phase, it just dosen't rot anymore. It rots slowly until she's barely skin on bones, and then she fades into the dirt and decomposes. (That's how zombies die.) Anyways! she's just rotted enough to support moss/fungus life, and she loves her plant children

IV'E GOTTA STOP THIS IS TOO LONG✋️

#clawdeen wolf #monster high #draculaura #lagoona blue #cleo de nile #ghoulia yelps #heath ledger #frankie stein #abby bominable

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robertdowneyjjr · 2 years

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tony takes steve to his favorite italian restaurant in new york on their first date. at the end of the meal he orders the tiramisu to share, telling him about how he’d visit italy during the summer growing up, and his mom would make the cake using his nonna’s recipe every year for his birthday. at every restaurant and dessert place he ever visits, if there’s tiramisu on the menu, it’s what he’d order. but no place has ever made it quite like maria did.

steve learns to make tiramisu the first time tony goes away on a business trip after they start dating. it’s a little lumpy and the espresso powder is unevenly distributed on the surface, but he cuts a piece and takes a picture, sending it to tony and captioning it tiramissyou. when tony gets back two days later steve pulls the cake out of the fridge for him to try, and even though tony still misses his mother viscerally every time he sees a tiramisu, he can taste the love and care that steve has put into the cake and he instantly decides it’s the best he’s ever had since his mom passed away all those years ago.

#listen…. i saw ‘tiramissyou’ on a post somewhere and this just came to me #stevetony #stony #headcanon things

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sebsgirl71479 · 1 year

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Shoot Your Shot The Sequel

Sebastian Stan X Curvy Actress Reader

A/N Yup im baaaack with a little sequel that i didn't think would happen but here we are. Let see how our beautiful celebrity couple are up to in this story at the Golden Globes. Again reblogs always appreciated and loved.

Word Count :2006k

Warnings: Fluffy AF, Sexual content, smut 18+ only No Minors

It had been 4 months since the emmy awards, where you not so subtly asked out Sebastian Stan on live tv. After your wonderful night together just talking and kissing, you both were head of heels for each other. When December rolled around, Sebastian was nominated again for Pam and Tommy, first a Golden Globe then a Critics Choice Award. You were so happy for him, a day after you went with him to his agent's office and what waited for him was a massive bouquet of flowers from the Hollywood foreign press for his nomination.

“Sebastian, are you sure you're okay walking all the way back home carrying those? We could get a cab if you want.” “Printesa, I’ll be fine, besides I want to see peoples faces as I walk with this monstrosity in pink.” He giggles a little bit while you picture the streets of New York City watching a 6ft tall man in pink himself no-less carrying a bouquet of pink flowers.

When you both got back to Sebs’s apartment full of laughter, you started planning your trip to LA next month. You were still on hiatus from ted lasso and Sebastian was in between films at the moment so it was perfect timing. “Baby are we staying at my place or yours when we get to LA?” While you're in Sebastian's closet picking out clothes for him to take to California he comes up behind you to wrap you up in his arms. Placing gentle kisses on your shoulder and neck, humming in content you look over your shoulder into his eyes and just drink them in. He's rocking you back and forth in the closet like there is music playing in both your heads.

“How about we split our time between both? We can stay at my place just before the golden globes, then after we can go to your place and be ready for the other awards show and beyond.” You turn around to face him and place your hands in his hair to comb through it, Looking deep into his eyes. “I think it’s a great idea, but I have one question? How big is your bathtub?” “Hmmmm, big enough to fit both of us with plenty of room to spare, what do you have planned printesa?” Still swaying back and forth with him just taking him in. “ I was thinking when we land we leave our luggage by the door and spend an hour in a hot, steamy bath to relax and maybe a little something extra?” Wiggling your eyebrows and giving him a sly smile. “I think you have one of the best ideas ever. Now how about we celebrate a little bit tonight with some take out, wine and some dessert?” He winks at you, that's your cue that when he does that you know what he has in mind.

Before you knew it it was new year's day and you both were all packed and ready to head to LA a week before the Golden Globes. You decided to have a lazy night in for new years eve considering you had a 6 am flight the next day. Just the 2 of you, a few glasses of wine and a home cooked meal made by you. When the clock strikes midnight you stood out on Sebastian's balcony and watched the fireworks go off around the city, and a midnight kiss that lasted 2 mins. The perfect way to start 2023 in your opinion. Because of the time change you got to LA around 9am, plenty of time to have that relaxing bath you promised Sebastian. The bathroom was filled with the scent of roses from the bath soaps and candles. Sebastian dimmed the lights to make it more romantic. You sat in front of him while he took a loofa and caressed your body, getting the smell of the airplane off. He abandoned it for his own hands not 5 mins into the bath. You didn't mind it, you preferred it. He started at your shoulders rubbing them and kissing the area afterwards, his new beard he was sporting was tickling you a little bit making you giggle.

Next he grabbed your chin to have you look at him giving you a strong passionate kiss. Midway you fully turned around and straddled his waist holding on to the back of his head to ground you. You both moan into each other's mouths getting more needy for one another. You rocked your hips back and forth on Sebastian's already hardened cock with how wet you were for him already. “Angel, baby I need you so bad, I need to be inside you right now.” “Seb, oh baby, make me feel good.” He lifted you up a little bit and you sank down on his cock so easily. Sebastian threw his head back with how good you felt. You melted into him, staying still for a bit to get used to his size. No matter how many times you've had sex with him it takes a min to get used to him. Sebastian lifts his head and rests his forehead against yours. You started to move your hips up and down just enough to not let any water out of the tub.

"Draga, you feel so good, keep it up and we will be done sooner than I expected." You throw your head back in ecstasy as your organism washes over you in now time. "Oh Sebastian cum for me baby, fill me up." “I’m cumming baby oh god you feel so fucking good. AHHHHH!” You both came together basking in your highs resting your foreheads together. You began to comb your hands through his hair to sooth him, he rubbed your back at the same time. You opened your eyes after your breathing came back to normal, Sebastian was already looking at you. Both of you having a silent conversation looking deep into each other's eyes, Sebastian lifted you up slightly with a little hiss and had you sit sideways in his lap. It was another 10 mins before the water really started to get cold and decided to get out of the tub.

The rest of the week leading up to the golden globes was spent arranging the makeup artist for you and making sure you and Seb had the right outfits. You also spent days being lazy in his house but also taking in LA by hiking Runyun Canyon a few days and grocery shopping as well. It felt so domestic at times you wondered what it would be like to spend the rest of your life with Sebastian but you put that in the back of your head for another time. Little did you know Sebastian had packed a beautiful diamond engagement ring in his luggage and left it under his bed for the right time.

The day of the golden globes came and it was super busy at Sebastian's house, even his longtime manager came by to check up on you two to make sure things were running smoothly. By 4pm you both were ready to go to the Beverly Hilton. It would take almost an hour to get there with how LA traffic was. Walking the red carpet with Sebastian as a couple was a huge deal and everyone took the opportunity to tell you and show you when the camera went absolutely crazy when you showed up. You both took pictures together and individually. You entered the ballroom just in time to have dinner served with plenty of champagne for the table. By the time all the plates were taken away the show was beginning to start. While the show was being broadcast you both sat holding each other's hand and never letting go. When they broke for commercials, that's when you both would stand and start talking to a few other actors. Paul Walter Hauser came over and introduced himself to you since he was at the table next to you. Sebastian looked over at you talking to Paul, one of best friends and his heart swelled. You looked like you were having an animated conversation with him and it made him happy.

Paul finally saw Sebastian looking over at you two and smiled. That was his way of saying ‘you have a good one here’ He came over to say hi to Paul and congratulate each other just before the broadcast came back. It was finally time for Sebastians category, you held his hand tight in yours your nerves were so high for him that your leg was bouncing so much he let go of your hand and started rubbing your thigh to calm you. You looked over at him and gave a small smile mouthing him a ‘thank you’. When they announced Evan had won the award you were more disappointed for Sebastian than he was for himself. He felt your body slack after that after being wound tight for the last 5 mins. He took your hand and kissed the back of it. “It's ok baby, it won't be the last one.” “I know sweetheart but I really wanted this for you, but understand I’m just happy you got nominated and are finally getting recognized for the hard work you have been doing.” “Thank you draga, I love you.” I love you too Sebastian.”

The night had been wonderful, at some point during the show you and Sebastian got to speak to Billy Porter you were in heaven. You both went to an after party at the chateau marmot and talked to more celebrities. By the time 1am rolled around you both were tired and ready to head home. Sebastian helped you out of your dress and shoes and you went to steal one of his t-shirts for the dresser. “Baby you looked wonderful tonight but seeing you in my shirt makes me love you even more.” “I only do it because it smells like you and helps me sleep better.” He is only in his dress pants at this moment, you're just taking him all in. Then he starts coming towards you and in no time he has you weak in the knees with a body numbing kiss. After the thought of breathing comes to you both you part with chests heaving staring into each others eyes. Its at this moment that Sebastian has his perfect moment to propose. “Draga, wait right here I have something for you.” Before you have the chance to say anything he is on the other side of the bed taking his luggage out. He comes back with his hands behind his back as he stands less than a foot away from you.

“Sebastian baby, what is it?” With a big smile on his face he begins to get down slowly on one knee. Your lip is quivering at this moment ready to just ball your eyes out. “Y/N when you asked me out on live tv 5 months ago i knew that when i met you i would never regret it. Tonight I may not have won an award but you won my heart. Y/N Y/L/N draga will you stand by me for every awards show, every premiere and every other milestone in our lives forever? MARRY ME BABY.” You look at the beautiful sapphire engagement ring in the black box. Vision blurry which most likely you still have mascara running down your face. You look him in the eye and place your hand on his face with a water smile. “Yes Sebastian, I'll marry you. With all my heart.” He slipped the ring on your finger and you both just held each other for the next 10 mins just basking in the other's warmth and love. Finally parting he held your face in his hands and kissed you so softly and sweetly.

“I love you y/n so much I can't wait to marry you.” “I love you too Sebastian forever and always.”

Tag list: @christycurlswrites @buckyalpine @frostironfudge @allandoflimbo @peaches1958 @altagraye

#sebastian stan x plus size reader #sebastain stan x y/n #sebastian stan x reader #sebastian stan fanfiction #sebastian stan smut #sebastian stan x curvy reader #Sebastian Stan #sebastian stan daddy #romanian god #romanian sweetheart #tz

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dragqueen-eddie · 2 years

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Dont Leave Me

Will Byers x Platonic!Reader

Stranger things 4 spoilers!

Request: I need some angst like a ship that is very wholesome that you thought they’ll have a happy ending and instead they got a sad one.

Will Byers x reader where the reader is a new girl in town just like Max, she would always carry a polaroid around. (Y/n) was good in wrestling due to her father who was a pro wrestler and moved to Hawkins to settle in.

They met in the woods, (y/n) was taking some pictures of flowers. She encountered Will, and it seemed that they keep hanging out at the same place. (Y/n) even helped him from the mind flayer where they meditated. Will always felt safe and peaceful around her.

The gang would even tease them for being close, even though they weren’t together yet, and in season 4 when they were rescuing Eleven, at the dessert.

She was shot and Will was the one holding her close as he was trying to stop her from bleeding. He was crying badly that (y/n) was still alive luckily and got her to the hospital. Will stayed by her side and he was afraid of losing her again. @oyasumimosura

A/N: AU where Will actually has a good friend that cares about him that isn’t just Mike ignoring him for El >:( REQUESTSARE OPEN (SPECIFIACLLY EDDIE)

Hawkins was never what you expected. When you were 12, you moved here with your parents, you weren’t excited by any means. You were leaving New York City behind. But you had to accept it, your dad was a pro wrestler and he was set to retire, and he didn’t want to be around the temptation of jumping back into the ring. So, it was agreed to move back to your parents' quaint small town of Hawkins. Your family had visited over the years, to see family, for holidays, but you barely knew anyone here you weren’t related to, it made going to school a lot scarier. Your dad, the ever protective, had taught you how to defend yourself, mainly for the possible case of mugging in the city, but also for his own piece of mind. To say you were a talented wrestler was an understatement, you were trained by one of the best in new york.

And so here you were, in Hawkins. It had been a few days since you started. You’d made a few friends, but nothing major, you still sat and ate lunch alone. To combat the fear you walked around the middle school, looking for any good spots to take pictures. A polaroid camera that was practically attached to your hip was your best friend, eventually you stumbled across a field in the back of the school. Just far enough for it to be calm, but close enough to hear the bell signalling the end of lunch. Smiling, You set your things down and began happily snapping the meadow, the wild flowers, the trees, a few birds, all until your camera had run out of film. Huffing, you sat with your bag and began to change the film, convinced you were completely alone, all up until you saw a pair of legs standing in front of you. Looking up in surprise you saw him, your eyes widened, before you could speak he noticed the pile of pictures beside you that had just developed.

“No way, these are amazing.” The boy smiled at you as he bent down and took the pile, gently flipping through them and admiring each one individually. You smiled at him.

“Thanks, it's just a silly hobby, I didn’t think anyone would come out here.” You spoke gently as he took a seat beside you “What's your name?”

“Will Byers, I’m in your history class.” He smiled

“Im Y/N L/N, nice to meet you.”

That is where your friendship began. The two of you would meet there regularly to talk and take pictures, Will even began borrowing library books to help identify the birds or the flowers that grew there. By the time you were 14 and had left Middle School, the two of you were nearly experts on every species you had come across in the small meadow.

Not to say there were downsides of the friendship, but there were definitely obstacles. The minute you found out about the Upside down, the demogorgon, everything Will had been through, you were petrified. This prompted a promise to him, that if things ever got bad again, you’d be right by his side.

When he was possessed by the mind flayer, you brought him to the meadow with Joyce and Johnathan, hoping that somehow that would help him. It did, eventually you broke through to him, only briefly, after spending 5 minutes pointing out the different plant life of the meadow. He looked up at you with scared eyes and repeated the name of some tree you had spoken to him.

“Y/N… I don’t want this, help me.” He muttered to you, the fear in his voice was evident. But it was evidence to you, Joyce, and Johnathan that he was still in there. You stuck by his side with Nancy and Johntahn through everything, through trying to burn the mind flayer from him, and to the minute he woke up. It was one of the most terrifying experiences of your life. But you wouldn’t give up on your best friend.

After that, you became friends with everyone, you’d had wanted to meet them before that, but the opportunity never came up. They convinced you to play DND, start playing video games, Max taught you how to skate, you had sleepovers with her and El, and life was bliss for a while. All up until the events at Starcourt, when Joyce packed hima nd the rest of the family up to California.

It broke your heart to leave your best friend, but you wrote to him as often as you could. Visiting the meadow, and snapping pictures of whatever you could. Many letters had attached pictures of your friends, even of Eddie and Hellfire once you started highschool. The two of you had a scheduled phone call every sunday night, you’d discuss what had happened through the week in person, get any missed details from letters, and just talk, whatever you could fit into the 30 minutes your parents agreed on when Will moved. When Mike approached you about going to California on Spring Break with him, so he could visit El, and you to see Will you were ecstatic.

Right off the plane you practically tackled Will into a hug before saying your hellos to Johnathan and El, and the four of you were soon off to the roller rink. Things happened, like El smacking the bitchy girl in the face with a roller skate. You were shocked, but also proud that she could stick up for herself like that, also admiring her form when she threw the punch. Of course you’d taught her how to do that, what's the point of having a wrestler dad if you didn’t teach your friends self defence after all?

And then everything went south. The cops, the agents, El ebing taken to Nina, not exactly how you envisioned spring break, but then again nothing in your life since moving had been normal. Unexpectedly you found yourself in a Surfer Boy Pizza van, with Will, Mike, Jonathan, and Argyle ona rescue mission for El. After many arguments, and wrong turns, the five of you were tearing through the desert to the coordinates that Susie had found and you were close to the base. From the back you saw helicopters, people being shot at, and El, stood there with her powers back in full force. The five of you ran out of the van and tried to reach her as fast as you could. You were near the forefront, being a lot more athe;tically able than the rest thanks to your dad, one of the first to reach her as bullets were flying. She was concentrating on the helicopter that was shooting at her. Just before you reached her you shouted to her, a mistake on your part.

El’s concentration wavered just long enough for a stray bullet to hit you square in the shoulder. You let out a scream and fell to the floor. Though, it gave El enough anger to concentrate into her powers, and just as you hit the ground, so did the helicopter. All attention was on you. On the ground, writhing in agony. Willow was the first to reach you, he held you in your arms as you cried.

“Y/N! Y/N! Stay with me you're ok, you're fine i promise-” His voice was shaking as he held you, Jonathan was on your otherside with Mike, El and Argyle stood around you. Jonathan took his jacket off and pressed it hard against your shoulder and you let out another scream.

Will had tears in his eyes as he held you. He was shaking, trying to keep you conscious.

“We need to go, guys look!” Mike shouted, he could see the soldiers emerging from the bunker, without another word Johnathan scooped you up in his arms and with the rest ran to the van.

You were lying on El’s lap as she tried to soothe you, Will was a mess, MIke was panicking, Jonathan was desperately trying to stop the bleeding while Argyle drove the van out as fast as he could.

“Y/N, you’re going to be okay, okay? We’re gonna get you to a hospital, and you’re going to be fine.” He held tightly onto your hand as you grew pale, your breathing was hitched and you nodded, unable to speak.

Eventually, you were taken to the hospital. Some story was created about a rouge shooter on the road and the doctors had assured everyone you were going to be fine. There was still the world to save, and so Mike Johnathan and Argyle went off to do whatever they were doing, while Will stayed by your side in the Hospital. You were going to be fine, you just needed rest and time to heal. Will had never been so relieved.

He was sitting in the chair beside yours, you had been asleep and he was busy reading some sci fi comic he had found in the waiting room. When you woke up you rolled your head to the side and smiled.

“Hey loser.” You chuckled as he whipped his head up and smiled at you, he jumped and gave you a tight hug, quickly moving away after you let out a pained ‘Ouch!’, slightly forgetting the reason you were here.

“I was so worried. You can’t do that to me again Y/N I cant lose my best friend.” He stood over you, you gave him a smile and took his hand.

“Of course I won’t. Who else is going to document the wildlife of Hawkins for you while you're in california?” He chuckled and leant down to give you another hug, this time being wary of your shoulder.

#Will Byers #Will Byers x reader #will byers x platonic! reader #will byers imagine #stranger things #stranger things 4 #stranger things imagine #stranger things 4 imagine

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lascapigliata · 2 months

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i had like a spoonful of egg salad at the first shiva last week and it was just all wrong. my grandma made it with a mouli grater so it was much smoother and less mayo-y. i haven’t had any since idk when but before october definitely & i used to be fine w egg salad that wasn’t my grandma’s but i think that’s bc i knew i’d always have my grandma’s again eventually too but now i never will and eating it made me feel sick. i’m sure one day i’ll have an egg salad sandwich and be fine which will be nice bc it’s one of new yorks great pleasures but in the meantime like. do i get a mouli grater and butcher her recipe? we tried making her pasta salad once before she died and it was absolutely wrong. do i just abstain and wait for it to pass? it’s just like how passover we won’t have any of her haroses. nevermind that i’ll never have her desserts again, ever, and i don’t have the patience or baking prowess to even try to recreate her best ones. i know how to make her tuna salad but that’s not that impressive bc it’s nothing that special. eventually the cookbooks i took from the house won’t smell like the house anymore either. it’s all just disappearing

anyway i’ve just been staring at my grandfathers painting all day which i love and has pride of place right above my tv but at this moment it’s all a little. raw.

#it’s grieving hours at micaela dot tumblr

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aenariasbookshelf · 1 year

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you say you want (me) (part seven of ?)

title: you say you want (me) (part seven of ?)

author: Aenaria

rating: G

Weekly prompt: Cherry week at the @darcylewisbingohq

Characters: Darcy Lewis, Steve Rogers

tags/warnings: Darcy/Steve, soulmate AU

Summary: In a world where having a soulmate mark is the norm for most people, Darcy Lewis is one of the rare few unmarked people. Of course, this doesn’t stop her from finding the right partner.

Previous parts can be found here: https://www.tumblr.com/aenariasbookshelf/719213889614708736

I really should put these ficlets into some sort of order and get them posted to AO3, shouldn't I?

“I can’t believe you’re taking me to Staten fucking Island for a date.”

“No, I took you to Brooklyn for a date, we’re making a quick stop for dessert before heading back to the compound. Besides, you said you liked Italian ice; this place supposedly has some of the best around.”

Darcy just rolls her eyes bemusedly as she hops out of the passenger seat of the inconspicuous black SUV. Steve shuts the door behind her and they begin to walk down the street to where the Italian ice place of legend is. He slings an arm around her shoulders and pulls her close, providing a little bit of extra warmth in the chill of the fall evening.

The place is surprisingly crowded, people waiting on various lines inching towards the ordering counter. Steve tugs his baseball cap just a little bit lower and makes sure that the lensless glasses are still on his face. Darcy privately thinks it’s the dumbest disguise ever, but it seems to work better than imagined. But also, maybe it’s because people don’t expect to see someone as famous and well known as Captain America doing something as normal as going out to dinner or getting some ice cream. Which is both a curse and a blessing in itself.

Still, Darcy notices a couple of sly glances tossed their way that she’s not quite sure what to make of. So she just stays curled into Steve’s side as they wait their turn.

This being New York (even if they are in a part that Darcy would barely consider a part of the city) however, no one says anything and soon enough they’re walking back to the car, icy cold treats in hand. She licks at the ice, orange creamsicle flavors melting on her tongue, cold and creamy and a nice little kick of nostalgia. For just a moment, she’s a child on the boardwalk with her parents, tucking into some Italian ice after spending a long day baking on the beach, getting sand in every crevice and her hair tangled from salt water.

Maybe next summer she can take Steve to the beach also. He needs a vacation more than anyone she knows.

There’s a soft noise next to her, and she sees Steve looking down at her, a soft smile on his face, pink lips made even redder from the cherry ice he’s been eating. “What are you thinking?” he asks.

“I’m thinking I want to, when it’s warmer out, show you the beach where I grew up. And we can just spend a day there being lazy and warm and there’s nothing more important than the water in front of us and the sun in the sky.” Fanciful, yes, but that’s her deepest secret, after all.

That for all her feelings about soulmates being an entire and utter racket, Darcy Lewis is still a romantic at heart.

“In the summer then,” Steve nods. “We’ll make a tradition out of it.” There’s a little flush on his cheeks, just barely visible under the yellow glow of a street light, but it’s the same shade as the cherry on his lips.

“In the summer,” Darcy agrees, grinning. “In the meantime - it’s a Friday night. Neither one of us is working tomorrow. We don’t really need to rush back to the compound, do we?”

Steve shakes his head slowly. “No, no rush at all,” he smirks.

When he bends down to kiss her, he tastes like cherries.

#darcy lewis x steve rogers #darcy lewis #steve rogers #shieldshock #fic #my fic #darcy lewis bingo #mcu

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sunburnacoustic · 1 year

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The First Great British Guitar Band of the 21st Century

(NME, October 1999 after the release of Showbiz)

Oh the angst! The Pain! Searching for truth in a meaning less world.. Such is life in Teignmouth. Just ask Muse, three lads who've escaped small-town hell to be the toast of America. This just looks silly.

Three 21-year-olds from the sleepy fringes of Devon, lording it up in a glitzy Manhattan hotel lounge, chomping gleefully on tree-trunk cigars like they've just shagged New York senseless and eaten the entire music business for dessert. Any minute now these straggly indie-kid interlopers are sure to be turfed out on to the sidewalk with all the other guitar toting losers, back to their Transit van world. See ya. Keep dreaming, suckers. Except this never happens. Because even if they remain just above toilet-gig level at home. Muse are trainee rock royalty in America right now. Madonna herself beat half-a-dozen bidders to sign the youngsters to her Maverick label last November. Which is why the Teignmouth trio are billeted in New York for three weeks of back-to-back promotion for an album that hasn't even been released yet.

When British record companies sniffed around Muse, they declared them 'the new Radiohead' and shuffled away. When American labels saw them in New York's CMJ in November, they declared them 'The new Radiohead!' and formed a queue to sign their asses on the spot - cultural differences or Brit snobbery? Probably a bit of both, as Muse are more than the new Radiohead - they're the new Pixies, Nirvana, Mansun, Queen and Guns N' Roses too. And in their own broody intense way, they are about to explode.

Matthew Bellamy (singer/guitarist), Chris Wolstenholme (bass) and Dominic Howard (drums) were thrown together in a dark place of stagnation and decay, despair and degradation. It's called Teignmouth. Just below Torquay on the English Riviera, Teignmouth is a black hearted realm of eternal torment from which few souls emerge unscathed. Beneath its sleepy surface of genteel retirement homes and crazy-golf ranges, something deeply wicked festers in the remorseless south Devon sun. Possibly. "It's sort of like Torquay without the nightclubs" shudders Dom. Sounds pretty sinister. Like one of those elegantly shabby red-brick English towns where it's forever 1952 apart from the raging crack problem... "I think the best way to describe Teignmouth would be if we sent you the article that was printed on the front page of the local paper," sneers Matthew. There's a picture of the mayor of Teignmouth putting our CD in the bin because apparently we said in some interview that Teignmouth is a boring place, full of drug-takers. He said "I don't know who these drug-takers are, no-one takes drugs here...' Hahaha! That gives you an idea of what the town is like." Naturally, growing up in a stifling backwater run by rock-hating killjoys straight out of Footloose, the Muse boys were sometimes suicidally bored. They even resorted to doing 'dodgy stuff' on occasion.

There was a whole lot of nights when there was nothing to do and the only stuff that was fun to do was music," recalls Matthew. "You ended up doing dodgy stuff like breaking in to swimming pools, just because that was something to do. Most of the friends we had have either gone to University or become drug dealers." Ooh, the mayor will love that. Picture a bonfire of NME's outside the town hall. But at least the nascent Muse had something to kick against. And kick they did, starting with their debut sixth form gig five years ago. "The first gig we ever played together was a Battle of the Bands contest," says Matthew. "We wore loads of make-up, played loads of trashy punk stuff and got the crowd to invade the stage and smash all our gear. And we won! That's the weird thing. Because we beat all these bands that were really technically proficient, bands that sounded like Jamiroquai. People were shouting, you fucking cunts!' That totally affected our view of what music's about - it's not necessarily about music, it's about really believing in what you're doing."

So Muse kept plugging away, ignoring their critics, trashing their gear, dreaming of the big league. They eventually signed with a West Country management company and won a UK record deal with Mushroom, home of Garbage. And now, five years later, Madonna owns their souls. Sweet revenge on snobby old Britain and tight-arsed little Teignmouth, right? "That's what started us but I don't think that's what we're doing now," says Matthew. "The stuff we write now is more of a realisation of what the world's like. It's easy to blame stuff on a small town but then you go out there and you realise that some of the attitudes that you thought were just in your small town are actually all over." Muse's debut album is called 'Showbiz'. Oh yes. Most first albums contain two or three half-great peaks padded out with fillers. 'Showbiz' has a dozen tracks. ALL of which are heart-wrenching Wagnerian uber-anthems with fiery Spanish rhythms seismic meta-choruses and bile-spewing ultra-lyrics from the scabrous depths of Matthew Bellamy's charred-black heart. In other words, it's fucking great. But, bloody hell, is it miserable. Not trouser-fumbling hey-nonny-no Belle and Sebastian wistful nor chest thumping Daddy-never-loved-me Pearl Jam feel-my-pain self pity. Not even beautifully desolate and fragile like Thom Yorke, but aaaargh! post-apocalyptic heart-on-skewer Nick Cave tormented and urrrgggh! self-lacerating edge-of-darkness Ian Curtis fucked-up desperate. Heroically, bracingly, cathartically tragic. Hooray!

And yet Matthew seems like a pleasant well-balanced chap in person. Why the long face Sadboy-Slim? "Erm.... is this the time or the place?" Matthew wonders nervously "I don't think it is. Aren't we all tormented in some way? I've always had trouble.... I think it's like existentialism or something. The problems I'm having, if everyone else is having them the world's a scary place." Is miserable music some kind of perverse comfort in a cruel world? "All I can say is some of the music I listened to when I was young was like how we sound," shrugs Matthew. "That emotional deep stuff was what made me feel good because someone else out there is saying things the same as me. I used to listen to a lot of blues - Robert Johnson, Ray Charles I think that music was way deeper than I could have understood but for some reason it spoke to me."

Of course, Muse will be roundly mocked for taking themselves so seriously. But cynics said the same thing about Nirvana at the end of the '80s. Remember these boys are only 21, hurtling into a new millennium with their emotional wounds wide open. "I think things pick up generally towards the start of every decade." nods Matthew, spotting light at the end of a very long, very dark tunnel. "In 2000 or 2001, people will start getting more positive. There's a lot of fear hanging around which people are trying to deny but there is. And when that's over hopefully there will be a positive thing. Either that or extremely negative, hahaha! And it will all be over..." The first great British guitar band of the 21st century has arrived. Enjoy them while there's still time.

#Muse band #Muse interviews #1999 #NME #Matt Bellamy #Dom Howard #from the archives - rocketbabydolls.com #where would we be without the internet archive #the websites are all gone #muse band #matt bellamy #dom howard #muse #muse interviews #Showbiz Muse #Showbiz era

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