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undertheorangetree · 6 months

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Competition

Summary- Aemond is a big fan of healthy competition.

Warnings- MDNI 18+ NSFW. Female Reader. Modern AU. Mutual edging. Handjob. Fingering. Blowjob. Surprisingly fluffy?? Straight up porn.

Author's Note- I wrote this instead of studying for my midterm lmao. This was a request and therefore a tumblr special so I'm posting the full story here below the cut :)

Usually, she finds the competitive nature of her relationship funny.

Aemond has always been competitive. Whether it was a board game amongst friends or trivia night at the pub or something as simple as an arm wrestle, he loved to win. Most of the time, she found the trait endearing and knew it was a habit she shared, especially when he was there to egg her on.

But it is at times like this she thinks perhaps his need for competition has gotten out of hand. Laying naked on their shared bed, Aemond on his knees beside her with his hand between her legs, two fingers pumping in and out of her ceaselessly. Her hand is wrapped around his cock, doing her best to match his pace even while the pleasure his hand is wringing from her licks up her spine, leaving her dizzy and half boneless. He had gotten it into his head that even this had to be a competition, that whoever forced the other to beg to come first would be declared the winner. She doesn't even remember what they're playing for, not now, but she does know that losing is not an option.

Already, they’ve denied each other twice, pulling the other away in their attempt to win. Despite the desperation that is sitting heavy in her gut, her cunt already hyper sensitive and the feeling only getting worse, she can’t make herself look away from Aemond’s face. His eyes are half lidded, the pupil in his real eye blown wide and turning the blue near black, chest heaving with every breath. His hips buck into her hand weakly, matching her strokes as if he wants nothing more than to let the bliss of it pull him under, his need to win the only thing holding him back. She’ll never get tired of that look, the way his features have gone soft and pliant as pleasure runs through him. She wants to immortalize it, stamp it in her mind’s eye and look at it forever.

She knows she looks just as desperate as he does, legs shaking as she feels her orgasm racing toward her. He keeps a steady pace, the sound of her cunt all but echoing through the room while his thumb circles her clit. It’s almost insulting, how well he is working her up even while she does the same to him. She had half hoped that the pleasure running through him would be some kind of distraction but he seems laser focused, staring between her legs as if he never wants to look away. And she's so close. She can feel it right there, knows that if he keeps going she'll fall over the edge, but just as her orgasm is about to run over her, she knocks his hand away. A desperate whine leaves her, hips bucking up to chase his hand despite having been the one to push it away, and she hears him let out a low groan, his wet fingers closing around her knee.

"Fuck, look at you." His other hand comes up to brush across her tits as if he can't stand the thought of not touching her, catching her nipple between his fingers. She jerks, knowing that was more calculated than it was loving, and slaps his hand away irritably. It doesn’t deter him. "You can give up any time you want, baby, just say the word."

Though she's breathless, frustration and disappointment churning in her gut, she knows he hears the petulance in her voice when she says, "Same goes for you, baby."

He grins, hand falling back between her legs again to play with her clit. There's a smugness there she doesn't like, as if he's sure that she will be the one to beg first, and she decides to wipe the arrogance from his face. Turning slightly, she shuffles a little closer, licking the weeping tip of his cock and before sucking the head into her mouth, fist still pumping at the base. She looks up at him with big doe eyes, trying to look as innocent as she can with his cock in her mouth, and very nearly grins at what she sees.

The effect it has on him is almost immediate. His stomach tenses, mouth dropping open and hand going momentarily still as he watches her, black swallowing the blue of his eye whole. She takes full advantage of his distraction, taking him into her mouth a little deeper and hollowing her cheeks. She knows him, knows every mannerism he has just before he falls apart, and she knows from the look on his face and the way he starts thrusting helplessly into her mouth that he's half a second away from finishing.

Unfortunately, he notices it too and she feels his hand in her hair, tugging her gently off his cock with a frustrated groan. A thin cord of spit connects her to him and he lets out an almost pitiful moan at the sight of it, bringing a grin to her face.

He almost sounds as though he's whining as he says, "You're cheating. Don't cheat."

She tilts her head as she takes him back in hand, reveling in the whimper he lets out. "Why? 'Cause you're gonna come?"

"Because I can't put my mouth on you. S'not fair."

She feels her grin broaden. "And we both know how much you like putting your mouth on me."

He very nearly growls at that before all but tackling her to the bed, forcing her onto her back once more. He kisses her hard, almost punishingly, and she moans into his mouth, both hands coming up to capture his face in her hands. She’s happy for the reprieve, the want burning between her legs too distracting, and takes her time kissing him, in feeling his lips pressing against her own.

"You're such a brat," he mutters against her mouth and she laughs, nipping at his bottom lip to further prove his point. His hand falls to spank her lightly in retaliation, making her jolt again before her own hand drops to find revenge in another way.

It takes him less than a second to follow suit, his fingers running through her to collect the arousal that’s gathered there before pushing a finger back inside her, crooking it up immediately to rub against the spot he knows makes her squirm. They’re both on their sides now and she slings her leg over his hip in an attempt to get more comfortable, still kissing him in the hopes that it will be enough to distract her from falling apart. It does little to help, the pleasure rolling to a boiling point in her belly. In any other circumstance, she would be grateful knowing that her boyfriend knew exactly how to touch her, how to work her up so perfectly, but now she knows that it will be her downfall unless she takes matters into her own hands.

Her mouth drops open, a moan escaping her when he begins circling her clit again, fast enough that her whole body shudders. Knowing now that she is sure to lose should he keep that up, she speeds up her hand in an attempt to bring him over the edge before her. She runs her thumb along the head of his cock, stroking at him faster, and fights the urge to giggle when he pulls away to moan, his head dropping to rest against her shoulder. His lips drag along the skin there, leaving lightning bolts of want in his wake, and her free hand comes up to twist in his hair, lifting herself up slightly.

“Please let me make you come,” she breathes near his ear, biting her lip when he moans faintly in response to it. “You look so pretty when you do. Just want to make you feel good, baby, please.”

She grinds down into his hand subconsciously, rolling her hips in her desperate need for more, and revels in the groan he lets out. She can feel herself clenching around nothing, wanting nothing more than to feel him inside her, but she refuses to succumb to her want now. Once she wins, she will gladly keep him in this bed all night and let him do whatever he wants to her. But before then, she wants to watch him fall apart.

“C’mon. Be a good boy for me.”

That does it. He lets out another whiney sound, this one half a moan, as his brows knit together, bucking his hips up into her hand. She strokes at him quickly, once, twice, until he spills himself over her fist with another moan, thrusts stuttering as he finishes.

Though his hand stalled while he came, he picks up where he left off the moment he has recovered, not giving her any time to mourn the loss of her fading orgasm. His fingers comes back up to her clit, circling it as hard and fast as she can handle and pulling a yelp from her. His free hand falls to the leg that still rests across his hip, holding her in place as he rubs at her faster and faster, that familiar coil in the pit of her stomach snapping almost as quickly as it begins to form. She writhes beside him as her orgasm washes over her, a whine leaving her as her head tips back, giving him enough room to press a litany of open mouthed kisses across her throat.

All at once, the room falls silent, the faint droning of the TV in the next room still humming on where they left it. They’re both panting and Aemond turns onto his back, his hand keeping her leg splayed across his lap while he does it, a faint stretch burning in her thigh.

"I win," she announces breathlessly, wiping her hand clean of him before flopping onto her side, cheek pressing tight against his chest.

He vibrates under her face with a huffed laugh, his hand comes up to stroke at her hair mindlessly. "I think you already got your prize."

She turns her head up to meet his eye. "And if I want another one?"

He turns down to kiss her again. This time, it’s much gentler, all the desperation that had filled the air between them simmering down to nearly nothing. A part of her thinks that he may be content to simply lay here with her in their disheveled bed but then he reaches for her ass again, using his grip there to tug her to lay flat on top of him. His cock is already half hard between them and she feels the side of her mouth quirk up at the realization that he is, in fact, not quite done yet.

“That can be arranged.”

#aemond targaryen x reader #aemond x reader #aemond targaryen x you #aemond x you #aemond targaryen x fem!reader #aemond x fem!reader #aemond targaryen smut #aemond smut #aemond targaryen #hotd #hotd smut #hotd fanfic #hotd x reader #house of the dragon #house of the dragon x reader #house of the dragon smut

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twsted-kinks · 5 months

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Malleus x Reader: Biology Nerd (Part II?)

Fluff & NSFW things (slight angst?)

>ageless and minors dni<

Not really a part two just the same Yuu hanging out with Mal.

Reader is gender neutral but this is very self indulgent so they be fat, hairy, and may come across as masc. Also reader is Yuu.

Content Warning: cultural and biological differences leading to situations, assuming things are normal for another culture, accidental sexual stimulation and arousal, sexual tension, trying to hide arousal, Yuu being a nerd about Malleus's biology, Yuu touching Malleus innocently and Malleus getting off on the touching, is Yuu oblivious or is Yuu insecure and doesn't believe they're attractive enough for Malleus to want to fuck them?

Cuddling. There is so much cuddling. Just about every night Malleus would be floating outside Yuu's window, holding pajamas and a toothbrush. This occurred again and again, until Malleus's absence at night was finally noticed, and Sebek freaked out. The half fae's screams woke up the entire dorm. After that incident a lot more attention was put on Malleus's whereabouts. At first Sebek and Silver offered to join Malleus at the Ramshackle Dorm, but Malleus preferred his time with Yuu to be private. Lilia, being able to pick up on Malleus's little crush, found a solution. Have the child of man stay over at Diasomnia. As long as there weren't lectures the next day, Malleus and Yuu could stay up late doing whatever they wanted, and Sebek and Silver could check in as needed.

So, a new tradition started where, 1-2 times a week, Yuu would sleep over and spend the night in Malleus's room. Again, most nights were spent cuddling, talking, and enjoying each others company. Yuu was one of the few people where Malleus can have his scales, tail, and wings out and act normally around him. Well, as normal as Yuu can be. Though, Malleus's favorite thing about these visits was how Yuu would take care of him. Brushing his hair, polishing his horns, massaging his ears. His ears. It took Malleus using every bit of self control he has to remain still when Yuu touches his ears. Caressing the shell, rubbing the lobe. Malleus forced himself to take deep breaths and bite his lips to prevent himself from letting out a moan.

Malleus didn't have the heart to tell Yuu just what they were doing, how sensitive his ears are, how his cocks emerge from his slit. This became such a common occurrence that Malleus has become an expert at hiding his bulges, tucking them away, hiding them behind a pillow, excusing himself to the bathroom to take care of himself before returning. Did Yuu notice any of this weird behavior? Not really no.

Anytime Malleus did something a bit off, Yuu just assumed it was something either normal for him or just a fae thing. Malleus's dilated eyes, his awkward shifting with a pillow in his lap, the flush of his cheeks. Each thing Yuu could explain away. The eyes? Well, it is kinda dark in here. The pillow? Probably an erection, but that's just something the body does. The flushed cheeks and ears? Malleus isn't used to affection. Plus, if he's hard of course he'd be embarrassed! Yuu doesn't want to make it worse by pointing it out.

And so now they're here again, in Malleus's room. Malleus sits on his bed, pillow on his lap, and Yuu sits behind him. The human gently pulls away loose dead skin from the dragon fae's scales.

"I must thank you, child of man. Removing my shedding is often an inconvenience I'd rather not deal with. However, you've made my usual ordeal an enjoyable experience." Malleus hums and flexes his wings.

Yuu giggles. "You don't have to lie and make me feel better. I know you can just magic it off you."

Malleus is quiet for a beat before responding. "That is true. Removing my shedding is not an issue for me. It is a simple task. However, I did not lie when I stated you make the process enjoyable."

"Hm, yeah that checks out." Yuu focuses as they pick dead skin from between two scales. "Social grooming is a common behavior in social species. Makes sense humans and fae enjoy it."

Malleus thinks for a moment. "Yet you are the one always attending to me."

Yuu peels away the last bit of dead skin from Malleus's dark scales. "That's because I enjoy it too. It gives me something to focus on, something to do with my hands while I'm with you. Plus, you're really interesting to look at."

"Interesting to look at?" Malleus asks.

"Of course! Like-" Yuu runs their hand up Malleus's back to rest where the far's wings connect to his shoulder blades. "Even just your back is beautiful! There are multiple points that move and contract in a layered network of muscles in a way that is both very similar yet also drastically different to what I know. I can feel the movement every time you move your wings. And the way your scales shift and move over these muscles, an interlocking pattern that moves so perfectly on top of everything. It makes me think about the evolutionary process leading to this, and biological ancestry, clades, and categories of different spaient species here. How can I not enjoy myself?"

By the time Yuu finishes their thought, Malleus, tips of his ears dusted with pinkn has turned to face them. "Such an eye for detail for things I think nothing of. You explain your fascination with such passion. You truly have an admirable mind, child of man."

"I mean, you're the same way." Yuu responds.

"I am?"

"Your love for architecture, especially gargoyles. I admit there are times I don't understand what you're talking about exactly, but I enjoy listening to you. You always light up and it's really cute to see."

"Cute." Malleus let's the word sit in his tongue. "I should be used to the way you speak of me by now. But, I do agree. I enjoy listening to you even when I do not understand your words."

Yuu chuckles. "I'm glad to hear that. I know I tend to ramble. You can stop be to ask questions if you don't get it though."

"It is the same for me. You are free to interupt me with questions." Malleus responds. "And I do have a question for you."

"Oh? Shoot."

"What you said earlier about social grooming. Is it common for it to be... so one sided?" The fae asks.

"Well, it can depend on a lot of things, but no. Usually it goes both ways." Yuu answers. "What? Feel bad about me being your personal masseuse?"

Malleus's gaze travels along the human in front of him. Here he is, in nothing but his sleeping bottoms while Yuu sits in an oversized long sleeve shirt and sleeping shorts that stretch around Yuu's thighs. "That is part of it."

"And the other part is?"

"Our bodies are quiet different." Malleus notes. "Perhaps I wish to study yours as well.

"Oh..." Yuu is silent for a moment, shrugs, and then pulls their shirt over their head. "Yeah, that's fair."

Malleus does his best to keep his face calm, biting his lip slightly to keep him grounded. Yuu's plush torso decorated in a kayer of dark hair. The fat on the human's chest look so perfect, as if the soft flesh could fit into Malleus's hands perfectly. The human's soft stomach that Malleus has laid his head against again and again. He can't help but imagine how it would look, bouncing back and forth as the fae buries his cock at a brutal pace into the human. Malleus holds the pillow closer to his lap.

"I know I'm not that impressive, but, if I get to touch you, it's fair for you to touch me."

"Child of man." Malleus reaches out and cups Yuu's cheek in his hand. "You are beautiful."

Now Yuu's ears are the ones dusted with pink. "You don't have to lie to make me feel better."

"I am not lying." Malleus runs his hand down Yuu's neck and rests at the center of the human's chest. "You find my scales and the inner workings of my muscles to be beautiful. Can I not find your hair and your soft flesh beautiful as well?"

"That's no really-" Yuu looks down and hesitates. "Most people don't. At least where I'm from."

"Then I am glad you are here. I hope I can make you see just how beautiful you are."

#twst writings #twst x reader #twst thots #twst smut #malleus x yuu #malleus x reader #masterlist #twst malleus #twst malleus smut

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tastesousweet · 3 months

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⭒ the girl with the tattoo (v) - pt 1 pt 2 p3 p4

matt sturniolo x fem!oc / reader

summary : y/n and matt don't have to like each other to continue this thing of theirs, right?

warnings : implications of sex, alcohol, mention of weed, ???

mickey speaks : THANK U FOR THE LOVE ON THIS SERIES!!! sorry if this part feels shorter than the usual !! things get cute in next few parts...

THIS IS PART FIVE GO READ THE OTHERS FIRST OK

"SHE'S sick again?" remi asks, scooting herself further into the booth.

"yeah, i think it's her sinuses or something. she seemed pretty bummed about staying home, i feel awful." andrea pouts while glancing at the menu.

"she's the only person to ever be sick this often in june," remi giggles.

"we should order something to-go for her then. maybe soup?" erin suggests.

"that sounds nice, i'll text her- hopefully she's awake."

౨ৎ

"i can't keep telling my friends i'm sick." you huff as you walk back into your room to find matt redressing.

"why not?" his voice is muffled through his shirt as he tugs it over his head, leaving his hair ruffled.

you lay yourself on your bed lazily, "because they're smart enough to stop believing me soon."

"and why can't they just mind their business?" he looks over to you before reaching down to adjust the white shoes on his feet.

you stretch an arm out to grab your phone from your side table, mumbling, "you must not have friends who worry for you.”

he shakes his head then sighs, “sure, my friends care about me, but they also know when to leave me the fuck alone.”

“right, and my friends know me well enough to know i’m never asking to be left alone.” your comment comes out with more sass than you intended but you know he doesn't understand (or care to understand) your friendships enough to comment on them. then again, you were the one who brought this up in the first place.

"mmm...right. forgot you're just a little insane," he tsks, looking into your mirror and adjusting his shirt some more.

"shut up, matt," you continue staring at your phone, though it's only open to your home screen because you're far more engaged in the conversation than anything your phone could give you. "okay actually, what should i dooo?" you whine.

"i sure as hell won't know?!" his face twists up as he turns to look at you, "you're a smart girl, i'm sure you can figure it out."

you roll your eyes, "'kay... well maybe i've picked up a hobby...like, i dont know, painting! and i just really enjoy painting all alone, 'cause it helps me...focus?"

matt sarcastically laughs through his words, “you’re weird as shit,” he throws your plush throw blanket (that fell on the floor when you pushed matt on your bed just an hour ago) at you. “alright, i’m headin’ out.”

you don’t even give him a second look, “bye.”

౨ৎ

a few cheers of “ayy” and “look who made it” echo out from across the small alley as matt tucks his keys in his front pocket.

he looks over to see chris excitedly pointing at him with an arm hooked on nathan’s neck and another close friend, elijah, sitting on an oversized couch with a smile.

matt chuckles under his breath and walks closer to them, taking in the rowdy and neoned atmosphere of this downtown bowling alley. “what’s good?” he greets his group of friends.

“what’s good with you?” nathan counters with a grin as he moves to dap up matt.

matt shrugs into the handshake as eli begins to speak and stand up, “yeah, where the fuck are you comin' from?”

“home. don’t worry about it,” matt defends as his tongue guides over his hidden smile with a loose shrug of a shoulder.

“nooo! just say it how it is, matt,” chris says through a bite of nachos, “you slept in late and forgot about boys night, big fucking deal. you’re here now!” he throws his hands up before letting them fall to his sides dramatically.

matt slowly nods his head in sarcastic agreement as he faces his friends, "he's right."

he almost wants to laugh at the fact that chris actually believed his fake-sleeping enough to let him off the hook for "forgetting" their group hangout.

cameron wanders over to the group after taking his turn bowling, “‘kay, nate it’s your turn.” he then quips his chin up with a sudden grin, "hey, matt! about time you showed."

"better late than never," he breathes before joking, "you know i had to let you guys get at least a round in before i got here to start dominating."

“the word choice is a bit insane,” nick exaggerates as he approaches with arms full of bottled water and soda cans, "how about you go get your fucking shoes before you make that kind of claim." he moves around matt to place drinks on the coffee table (decorated with various bowling ball and pin themed clutter that made nick way to happy when first seeing it).

elijah places a hand on matt's shoulder, "i'll come with you, matt."

౨ৎ

"sick baby, i'm home nowww!" andrea yells from the front door.

you mentally gather yourself to continue your deception. you add weight to your eyelids, purposely making them droop and make your voice extra scratchy, as if you'd only just awoken.

andrea's at your door quickly, only tapping it slightly open, not wanting to blind you with the harsh yellowed lighting of the hallway. "hi, you up?"

you tussle under your comforter and give a small nod, "mhm."

"do you think you're like, contagious? i have your soup here and really wanna tell you some shit about tonight." she smiles warmly.

"no you're fine. please come in, i've been all alone and bored as hell," you rub your eye softly for effect.

you feel pretty guilty about this whole thing but you aren't hiding anything tragic from her. and this "illness" hasn't ruined that many hangouts...only the one's that happen to fall on days matt texts you.

"i hate to see my favorite bitch down like this, this soup better make you feel better immediately." she sighs as she comes into your room, noisy plastic bag in hand.

"i know," you lift yourself to sit up against your headboard as she sits next to you, "think i should be all better soon. i can't miss another shift at the bakery."

you were never missing work for matt, but to cover your ass you did miss a day or two of work to show your friends just how "sick" you were. if you were sick enough to stay home from work you surely were sick enough to avoid a girls night or two. but you guess it technically does come down to matt...unfortunately.

"yeah, i'm sure mr. houffman will lose it of you call off again," she giggles, sifting through the bag for your soup and silverware.

౨ৎ

barely a week later and you're feeling the best you have in a while, with the guilt of pretending to be sick no longer following you.

it's the fourth of july so there was absolutely no way you'd be continuing that act. you weren't missing out on a holiday with as many parties as this one.

and when chris asked andrea to get the girls to come party hop for the night, you told her yes immediately.

you're currently sat atop a random kitchen counter as nick moves around to make a concoction cocktail for you. you lean back on your hands to watch as he uses a knife to slice a small lime as garnish. "wow you really have an eye for this shit, nick," you laugh at his focused stare (he tries to compensate for any drinks he's had so far, not wanting to slice a finger off).

"i guess i'm just a natural!" he exclaims as he places the lime on the rim of the plastic cups, "okay, one for you," you take it from him, "and one for me." he grins at you.

"cheers!" you motion your drink towards him and he echoes you before you both take large sips.

your eyes pinch before they grow wide, "...why's it actually...good?" you laugh.

"you bitch! you thought i'd give you a shitty drink?!" he giggles and goes for another sip of his own.

"it's not that-"

you're cut off by matt's voice, "alright, time to dip. everyone's sayin' this place is really weird."

you both look over at him with his mellow attitude and perfectly organized outfit (so that he'd 'have all the colors but not look like a walking american flag'). "what? this place has been a good time so far! right, nick?"

"suppperrrr fun. maybe it's a you problem, matt." he jokes.

"come on, chris is the one who sent me to get you two. you know i would've left you both a few houses back." he teases.

you slide off of the counter easily, "okaaay," you look into his eyes and pat his chest twice mumbling, "someone needs a smoke break," before walking off in search of the door.

"wait y/n!" nick grabs a few sealed jello shots from an ice bucket nearby before rushing after you.

though he doesn't catch up to you before matt does, grabbing your hand, "you don't even know where the fuck you're going."

you breathe out defeated, "i'm sure i could've figured it out. i don't need you bossing me around."

matt pouts with squinted eyes and his head tilted, "sure."

nick comes up to you, continuing to stuff the shots into his jort pockets, "do these shorts make my ass look fat?" he turns to show you his side profile (already giggling before the punchline of his joke lands) that showcases the multiple items shoved into his back pockets and protrude out in awkward shapes.

you and nick both fall into a laughing fit and matt only ghosts a smile at his brother's stupidity before tugging your hand towards an exit. "wait! here, hold this please," you hand your drink to matt and reach your hand out for nick's. when he takes your hand willingly you raise your conjoined hands with a smile, "aw, we're like a little train!"

nick adds to the joke by pretending to be a conductor, exclaiming all the cliche lines he knows to make you laugh.

matt finally pushes a front door open, the warm summer air finally surrounding you once more. the rest of the group chatter along the sidewalk across the street. "my friends!" nick yells.

the three of you make your way down the wooden stairs (that seem to be steeper when going down than they were to walk up), and once you're in the grass your hand drops from matts's as nick drags you across the street quickly to crash into your friends.

remi's face is annoyed and confused at first but changes immediately when she recognizes your face. she throws her arms around you for a hug, "y/n! you were found!" you laugh into her neck as she sways back and forth.

"okay guys i'm thinking we hit up the place that the end of this block, right there. they've got some crazy lights goin' on so it should be fun." chris points in the direction and looks to the group for opinions.

"yeah! let's do it!" nate encourages.

the group begin to walk down the sidewalk (and slightly into the grass) lined with miniature american flags and past the many houses full of people and decorated with fairy lights and expensive garland.

naturally, everyone gravitates into cliques due to the amount of small conversations happening at once.

"that's unreal!" erin adds while hanging her arm on your shoulder, as you both listen to remi's dramatic retelling of some guy's awful flirting with her.

"i''m so over these trash ass men," remi shakes her head.

"tell me about it," erin sighs, rolling her eyes.

just as you begin to add your own opinion, matt taps your shoulder. he seems to always find a way to interrupt you. you glance behind you and see him holding your cocktail from earlier up.

"oh thanks, i forgot you had that," erin leans off of you to give you space to turn around and grab it.

though her eyes linger on matt for a second too long causing him to send her a smile and raise his eyebrows slightly in awkward question.

you feel the tension bite at the air around you and in hopes of escaping it, you turn back around and prompt remi with a new topic to discuss.

only, now you miss when erin gives matt a second glance back- and this time she offers a gentle wave and smile to him, in truce.

౨ৎ

after a few more stops at parties (you all got a little greedy about the free drinks and food which brought three extra "one more"s before deciding to cut it off), you all head to a nearby park to end the night with a firework show.

it was surprisingly well organized, with blankets already laid out around the large grassy area so that anyone could sit and watch whether they'd planned to or not.

the night has started to get the slightest bit cooler which was much needed after such an eventful three hours, leaving everyone exhausted in their comfortable spots; chris resting his head against andrea's full thighs, you next to her with your legs sprawled and arms extended behind you, nick and nathan both sat with their legs crossed, admiring the bright fireworks despite nick's flinching every-so-often.

the blanket next to you hosts erin, remi, matt, and cameron. all laying out as they laugh and talk, which you assume comes from a combination of the edibles they'd all taken at one of the parties and remi's addictingly outgoing nature that can force anyone to want to talk to her.

the booming fireworks go on for another twenty minutes before dying down and leaving the crowd in the dark, smokey air.

as you adjust to standing and take out your phone to use as a makeshift flashlight, you read the most recent of your many notifcations:

MATT - 12:36 AM

you down to paint after this???

you bite at your freshly chapped bottom lip before looking over to matt, who's currently using his hands obnoxiously to explain something he's clearly passionate about to cameron.

you sliently sigh before replying:

YOU -12:47 AM

sure

꩜⋆ ˚｡⋆🎱˚

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@rootbeerworshiper @deadxrx @breeloveschris @saintsturn @honestlybabymiracle @hearts4chris @starrysturniolo @blissfulbellss @aoxash

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libraryofgage · 8 months

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SpiderPool Steddie Part One

So, this is definitely gonna have multiple parts lmao

It's been bouncing around my brain for a while like the Addams Family Steddie AU lol

Anyway, lemme know if you'd like to be tagged for future parts ^_^

----

Sister Margaret's School for Wayward Girls is, at best, a dive bar. At worst, it's a cesspit in which the scummiest people in the city gather to bask in each other's scumminess. To Steve, however, it's the perfect place to collapse after a long patrol, splayed out like a starfish on the roof as the music playing inside vibrates the building itself.

Steve takes a deep breath, setting his bat down next to him before pushing his mask to the bridge of his nose. He then lies down on the roof, wishing not for the first time that the city's light pollution wasn't so bad. Seeing the stars and hunting for constellations would really help him ignore the cracked ribs screaming inside his chest and threatening to break if he even breathes wrong.

All things considered, though, it could be worse. Steve doesn't have any morning classes, Vecna didn't beat him up nearly as bad as he usually does during their fight earlier, and his accelerated healing means Steve will be able to breathe normally by morning. Robin would tell him he has a very low bar when it comes to judging how shitty his life currently is, but she isn't here, so her opinion doesn't matter. Dustin would tell him he should try not getting his ass whooped in the future. Thankfully, he also isn't here, making his opinion as meaningful as Robin's.

Steve closes his eyes, letting his shoulders relax and trying not to think about anything. It sort of works until his entire body suddenly tenses, every nerve on edge and goosebumps shooting across his arms. He shoots up, ignoring the harsh twinge in his ribs as he turns in a crouch and grabs his bat. Steve clenches his jaw, breathing harshly through his nose to keep from groaning in pain, and feels relieved he didn't completely remove his mask completely.

Over by the door leading to a staircase is a guy with ripped jeans, a worn-out shirt with "HELLFIRE CLUB" across the chest, a jean vest covered in patches and pins, and hair pulled back out of his face with a few wavy strands stubbornly escaping his hair tie. He's breathing a little heavily, his face flushed like he's just climbed a few flights of stairs. Actually, he probably has.

"Woah," the guy says, his voice soft enough that Steve would have missed it if not for the enhanced hearing. The guy clears his throat and holds up both hands, showing off a bottle of Jack Daniels in one and a bag with a grease-stained bottom in the other. "Uh, I come in peace. I didn't realize the rooftop was taken."

Steve has no clue what possesses him, but he forces himself to relax and set the bat down. "No, it's okay. I can head out," he says, staying seated despite his words. He's really hoping the guy will insist he doesn't need to; his ribs are still aching like a bitch.

Thankfully, the guy flashes a grin and slowly lowers his hands. "Nah, you're all good. Not every day I get to eat next to a hero. Want some fries?" he asks, walking over and sitting a good two feet away so there's plenty of room between them.

He tears open the bag to create an impromptu plate and puts it between them, the smell of greasy and undoubtedly delicious fries tempting enough that Steve picks up a smaller one and pops it into his mouth. "Thanks. Where are these from?" Steve asks, glancing over as the guy twists the cap of his bottle and takes a swig.

"A burger joint two streets down and one street over. On the corner."

Steve nods, making a mental note of the directions so he can get a burger before swinging home. He's got just enough in his pocket to afford one. "So, got a name?" Steve asks, figuring he's already eating the guy's fries and they're about to spend some time together on this roof. He should know the guy's name.

The guy's grin returns, and he sets the bottle down between them as well. It's tempting, but Steve doesn't trust his alcohol tolerance to hold up while his body is busy fixing his ribs. "Eddie. Do I get to know your name, too?"

Steve snorts and leans away slightly, putting a bit more distance between Eddie and his entirely too-grabbable mask. "Nice try," he says.

"Worth a shot," Eddie says, shrugging as he picks up a few fries. "So, Spider-Man, what brings you to Sister Margaret's? You enjoy the gay metal scene?"

"What's the difference between gay and regular metal?"

"Our hair is better," Eddie explains, dramatically flipping the few strands of hair escaping his tie.

Steve has to hold back a second snort, taking another fry and chewing on it before saying, "I like resting here after patrol. The whole building shakes with the music."

Eddie lights up, his eyes brightening and his back straightening some. "So, you're a fan of Corroded Coffin," he says, taking another swig of the Jack Daniels. It's only now that Steve realizes it's already a quarter of the way gone, and he wonders if Eddie's liver can handle that much alcohol all at once.

"Is that the name of the band?"

"Yep. They play here almost every night."

"I'm guessing you like them, too, then?"

Eddie hums, amusement dancing across his expression now, giving Steve the distinct feeling that there's some secret he simply isn't in on. "They're the best band I've ever heard. Their music is incredible. They really push the boundaries of the genre. And their lyrics? Amazingly layered with at least three meanings per line. I highly recommend actually coming in for a listen one of these days," Eddie says, leaning a little closer to Steve.

A beat of silence passes in which Steve holds Eddie's gaze. Or, he holds the gaze on his end; he's sure Eddie can't actually tell with the mask covering his eyes. "You're in the band," Steve says.

"Lead guitarist and singer, yes. I also write the songs."

"You're incredibly critical of yourself, really grounded in reality."

Eddie barks out a laugh. "I just happen to know my worth incredibly well."

"You have all the confidence of a mediocre white man on a job hunt."

Eddie gasps, placing a hand on his chest as he looks at Steve. "How dare you call me mediocre. I am revolutionary at worst and the second coming at best."

"You know the second coming involves, like, an apocalypse or something, right?"

"I'm Jewish, why would I bother with the fine details?" Well, Steve will give him that. "By the way," Eddie says, gesturing to Steve's bat as he continues, "do those nails actually see any use? Or are they just there to act as a threat?"

Steve looks down at his bat, considering it for a moment before carefully holding the middle and offering the handle to Eddie. Now that he's giving them a few moments of attention, he's realizing the nails embedded in the end are a little rusty and definitely need cleaning. "I try not to be deadly with it, but Vecna's got these lab-grown demon dogs and bats that always manage to break through my webs," Steve explains.

He watches as Eddie takes the bat, weighing it in his hands before shoving his palm into the nails. Steve jerks, a wordless shout escaping his throat as he launches himself over the fries and in front of Eddie. "Are you okay?!" he asks, grabbing Eddie's hand and shakily inspecting the nails sticking through it. Fuck, those are going to be a bitch to get out, and he'll probably have to swing Eddie to the hospital for a tetanus shot.

Being angry doesn't even register in his brain as Eddie laughs. "Don't worry about it, Spidey," he says, pulling his hand off the nails with a slight wince. He wiggles his fingers, letting Steve have a front-row seat to the injuries closing. "See, good as new."

And he's right. The injuries are good as new. In fact, there isn't even any scarring, and Steve almost rips his mask off to take a closer look but stops himself at the last minute. Instead, he grabs Eddie's hand and yanks it closer, turning it over to check his palm, too. "What the fuck?" he asks, looking up at Eddie, still gripping his hand tight.

"Super healing," Eddie explains. "Like, super duper. If I ever get decapitated, just hold my head to my neck, and I'll be right as rain."

"I'd rather not put that claim to the test," Steve says, frowning slightly as he runs his fingers over Eddie's palms, just to make sure the injuries aren't somehow hidden from sight.

"You know, I kissed the last guy who touched my palm like that," Eddie says, leaning in again with that grin.

Suddenly all Steve can think about is how Eddie's lips do look soft. And it has been a while since Steve actually kissed anyone. And he does think Eddie is funny. And he does find himself wondering if his smile will taste like the Jack Daniels and fries. And...and...

And Steve needs to go before he does anything he shouldn't be doing as Spider-Man.

He jerks back, dropping Eddie's hand like it burns, and ignores the ache in his ribs as he grabs his bat and stands. "I, uh, I need to get going. Thanks for the fries, Eddie," he says, hurrying over to the edge of the roof.

"Woah, just gonna eat and run on me, big boy?" Eddie asks, scrambling to his feet and over to where Steve is climbing onto the edge of the roof. "That's not very hero-like of you. You haven't even left me your name or number. How are you gonna pay me back $2.50 for the fries?"

"I had five," Steve says, turning to look at Eddie as he webs his bat to his back and pulls his mask down over his chin.

"The economy sucks, man."

Okay, he's got Steve there. Again. "Nice try, Eddie."

"Can you blame a guy? Your ass looks great in that spandex."

Steve is suddenly relieved his mask is back down, covering the furious blush spreading across his cheeks. He'd think it was just a joke, but the sincere and somewhat goofy smile tugging at Eddie's lips tells him it's more genuine than anything else. "Thanks," Steve says, giving Eddie a two-finger salute before taking a step back off the roof.

He shoots a web at the edge of the building, using the momentum to swing around the corner. His ribs are killing him with the movement, but he still manages to throw a, "See you later, Eds!" over his shoulder before he's completely out of earshot.

Later, Steve will wonder how Eddie got his super healing, if he's that flirtatious with every guy he meets on the roof of Sister Margaret's, and if he'll be there the next time Steve swings by. But that's for later. For now, he's just enjoying the breeze rushing over him and thinking about Eddie's eyes and his smile and his long fingers.

#Steddie #Spiderpool Steddie #steve harrington #eddie munson #spiderman steve harrington #deadpool eddie munson #it'll make sense i promise #also Eddie goes back into the bar and immediately starts bragging about flirting with spider-man #everyone immediately knows he's about to become Annoying (TM)#and resign themselves to their fate #Robin does the exact same when Steve gets home and tells her about Eddie #RIP everyone who has to live with these two gushing about each other

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molotovmetro · 1 year

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Hi! I hope you are well!

I was wondering if you could do 141+Alejandro Vargas with a male reader who disassociates a lot? Not while working, but if you catch him anywhere else he’s usually just staring blankly at the wall while barely blinking and whenever someone talks to him while he’s in his “trance” he kinda gets shocked like he’s just woken up from a very deep sleep and goes like “HOLY JESU- oh hey what’s up”

I feel a little called out... /hj

Thank you for requesting, I hope you like it :)

Warnings: disassociation

M!reader

A/N: someone pointed out to me that using the term "zoning out" can come across as dismissive/invalidation. I personally do experience a lot of disassociation so this was far from ny intention. I tried not to get too repetitive so I tried using a different term, but I didn't think of the fact it might come across as rude. Just wanted to clarify this real quick.

The 141 + Alejandro with a s/o who disassociates a lot

Ghost

Honestly? Ghost is most likely sitting right next to you also disassociating.

It used to freak the team out a little, but they're used to it by now. Its a daily occurrence and they just leave you to it until they need either of you for something.

Usually it happens because he silently sits next to you, waiting for you to snap out of it, which doesn't happen because he's not trying to talk to you, and then he just checks out himself.

This guy has so much on his mind and deals with so much stress, sometimes it's nice to not have to think.

Soap

You and Soap regularly give each other heart attacks. Him by coming up to you and immediately talking your ear off, snapping you out of your head, and you with your startled reaction.

It's like a golden retriever puppy sprinting into a room and then jumping a meter into the air because something startled it. Except the thing is another puppy who also jumps.

The few times he doesn't just barge into your room already talking, he usually hangs around you in silence, sketching or writing in his journal and lets you do your thing.

He waits for you to come back to earth and then teases you about it.

Gaz

Like Soap, if you suddenly snap out of it Gaz'll startle himself. He gets used to it after a while, though.

He tries to find a way to "wake" you without shocking you. It's a long process of trial and error, and he jokingly treats it as a very serious science experiment. He will be taking notes.

He's a bit more successful in finding out what gives you the biggest heart attack instead, but he's not giving up that easily.

He'd make sure to have a chat with Price about your behaviour. He just wants to make sure you're okay.

Price

Especially at first, Price is a little concerned about it. He's just worried about your wellbeing.

He might subtly suggest you maybe go talk to a psychologist about it. He's seen too many men lose themselves to the trauma that comes with their line of work to risk seeing the same thing happen to you.

But if you explain to him that it's just something that happens, and not caused by flashbacks or the like, he'll be relieved and back off.

When he sees you staring blankly at the wall he'll just huff out a chuckle and fondly shake his head.

Alejandro

Out of everyone here, Alejandro gets used to it the quickest.

It's just like that sometimes. He gets it.

Unless you ask him to, or he needs you for something, he just let's you be.

He absolutely will give dirty looks to anyone who disturbs you. Maybe even a scolding if you're really surprised.

If he sees you zoning out while he's going about his day, he'll make sure to take a second to put a blanket around your shoulders if its cold, or put a glass of water on the nearest surface for when you snap out of it.

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luveline · 1 year

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if you’re doing hotch baby blurbs maybe hotch reconnecting with an old friend maybe an ex fling and there are sparks

thank you for your request! ♥︎ fem!reader 1.2k

Aaron has occasionally seen strangers with your face. It sounds unsettling. In reality, he enjoys those few seconds. He sees someone with your hair, your shoulders, and he waits for them to turn around and smile your sweet smile. They never do.

Or, they usually don't.

You turn around and Hotch's heart does a hurdle, another when your familiar smile lights up your face. When you're sure he's recognised you it somehow grows brighter; you're sunshine incarnate as you weave through uniforms and desks to reach him.

"Aaron," you say, and there's the shyness he remembers, your eyes flitting over the surprised faces of his team. "Hi, how are you? I didn't know you were coming here."

He smiles as you reach up to hug him around the neck. It's a decidedly slow hug, not quite professional though you never have been, but it's also very gentle. It's a hug between friends.

"I had no idea you were here," he says honestly.

"Oh, I know. I'm not good at using my emails even if you did." Your eyelashes kiss in the corners, your serene smile yet to fall. "It's so good to see you," —you pull away from him, directing your attention to the team— "and to meet you all. I'm Y/N L/N."

Aaron introduces the team, thankfully without tripping up.

"How do you know each other?" Morgan asks, always one to be nosey when the others won't risk it.

You wait for Hotch to answer.

"We worked at the same office when I was an attorney," he says.

"You were an attorney?" Prentiss asks you.

"Oh, no, I was just a glorified secretary honestly. That's what I am here." You smile, unashamed at your profession. "I'm one of the secretaries, so if you need anything please tell me, even if it's a cup of coffee, okay?"

You cross your hands across your chest. Hotch hadn't known it back then but this is one of your tells. You're self-conscious underneath all the lightness.

"I'll show you guys to the conference room, if you like? And I'll track down Mr. Tanner for you."

You lead them to the conference room. It's crammed with tables, but a good space has been cleared and a big whiteboard has been wheeled against the wall. You offer everybody coffee and he's grateful when each member of the team says no, cutting his schoolboy panic short.

The door closes, and he relaxes, and Rossi's generous enough to talk under his breath.

"It could've been worse," Rossi says.

"You knew she was here?"

"How could I know that?" Rossi asks. Hotch would give in if his smile weren't so smug.

"You have history?" Morgan asks.

"Absolutely not," Hotch says. "We have work to do."

And they do a lot of work. Hotch is great at compartmentalising, keeping your pretty smile locked away at the back of his head, only thinking of you when he sees you, or hears your tentative knocks at the door twice a day for the few days they're there.

By the time the case is over, he's going insane with memories of the past. You haven't changed in all that time, you're still soft and sweet-natured, still over generous, still beautiful.

"You're going home now?" you ask from the door.

Hotch looks up from the account of events he'd been noting. "Pardon?"

"You're going home? Back to Quantico?"

"Yeah, bright and early tomorrow morning." He sits back in his seat. "Out of all the places I pictured you, I never considered Virginia Beach."

"It's very family friendly."

He stills. You start to laugh, and your laugh has always been so bubbly and contagious to him, it brings back fond memories of you.

"I don't have a family," you say, "sorry, that's not what I meant to imply. I want a family, of course, but it…hasn't worked out. It will, hopefully. What about you, did you ever?"

"I did– we had a son, Hailey and I."

You don't say congratulations though he knows you're happy for him. You lean your face against the doorway. "Does he look like you?" you ask.

"No." He laughs. He doesn't know why. "He's all Hailey."

"I bet he's beautiful. She was always so lovely, how is she?"

"I assume she's fine, but we don't speak very often anymore. We separated."

Your eyebrows thread together at the starts. "I'm sorry. It's not easy, and it's not fair, but you got a good thing out of it."

"Yeah, we did. Do you want to see a photograph?"

You don't waste a second. Hotch doesn't doubt that your enthusiasm is sincere. "Yes, please, I'd love to."

Hotch has a lot of photos of Jack. You want to see them all, and your eyes get happier with each one.

"You're a liar, Hotchner, you said he doesn't look like you. He's a beautiful kid. Wow, he looks so happy." You loll your head mildly to one side. He can smell your perfume. "Are you happy, too? I always meant to reach out, Aaron, and ask how you were but I… don't know. I thought hearing you about you being happy would hurt more than it really did. I'm so glad to see you again."

Why would it hurt? he thinks desperately. He already knows, of course. He knows the kind of feeling that would make you move 180 miles away from home. He can read just about anyone. He knows how you feel now.

"I'm glad to see you too," he says.

"And surprised, I mean, I'm so far away from home, but I guess you guys go everywhere, huh? Seeing you again is like fate."

He can agree with fate, but far away feels subjective. "It's only a three hour drive."

"Only!" you repeat, beaming. "You don't think that's far?"

"It depends on what you're driving too," he says, each word measured. He's careful.

"I think you're right. You know what I always miss? The Three Dragons, the one closest to our office."

"That's still there," he says.

"I would drive three hours for that."

He's a fool. He's coming on too strong. He's misinterpreting the signs. He tells himself all of this and it doesn't matter at all, he can't control his hand, can't stop himself from covering your smaller palm with his.

"And here?" he asks. "Are there any nice places to eat nearby?"

Your eyes lock onto his hand. Your thumb hooks over his hand, and your skin is so warm, your hand pressing closer to his as you draw your gaze to his face. Hotch isn't sure he's ever been looked at the way you're looking at him — your lips press together in a thin line like you're trying to stop from smiling and failing spectacularly.

"Nothing as nice as the Three Dragons, but I think we can find something," you say softly.

Hotch is yours until tomorrow morning, and if all goes well, he knows Virginia Beach will be a drive worth making.

#aaron hotchner #aaron hotchner x reader #aaron hotchner x fem!reader #aaron hotchner fluff #aaron hotchner fanfiction #aaron hotchner fanfic #aaron hotchner fic #aaron hotchner imagine #criminal minds fanfiction #criminal minds fanfic #criminal minds x reader #criminal minds #aaron hotchner x you

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abarbaricyalp · 2 months

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I thought there was a Post-TFATWS space, but there's not, so have another Free Space fill! @sambuckylibrary

Based on a Daily Fluff Diary post! // cw: injury in the last section // AO3 Link

Knock Before Entering

It's not that Joaquin hasn't seen them make out before. It comes with the territory of spending long amounts of time with two people not only deeply horny for each other, but also just deeply in love. He tries not to think about it. Tries to forget that Barnes clearly needs an outlet for adrenaline after a fight. Tries not to pay attention when a closet door shuts on the jet. Tries to ignore the eyes Sam shoots Barnes that has them both vacating a shared space.

They're good about it. Don't get up in each other's space intentionally when he's around. Barely even touch if they're all sharing a room. One time, Barnes had even slept on the floor instead of sharing a bed with Sam. Though Joaquin had woken at some point in the night and found Sam's arm hanging off the bed and Barnes's arm reaching up so they could hold hands anyway. At least it was his prosthetic arm, so Joaquin assumed he didn't need to worry about a blood rush.

The point is, it's not a secret that Sam and Barnes are together. And they're usually pretty good at keeping to themselves.

Which is why it shouldn't be surprising but certainly is when Joaquin walks back into Sam's office from hunting down the new drone prototype he'd been reporting on and finds Sam half sprawled across his desk with Barnes crowded between his legs, following him down.

Joaquin smacks a hand over his eyes like a child. It means he drops the drone, but it's live, so it just hovers next to him. "Guys, gross!" he snaps, also like a child. It did kind of feel like seeing his parents making out for the first time.

_____

He can hear them spring apart, like it's a surprise that he's back. He'd literally been gone for five minutes tops. He just had to run to his room and get this. He'd told Sam where he was going. He hears a slight exchange of shoves and elbows before Barnes says, "Drop your hand, kid."

Joaquin does after several more seconds, when he's sure the coast is clear. Sam's behind his desk again, Bucky leaning a hip up against the side of it like he belongs here.

"Where did you even come from?" Joaquin asks finally when it seems like no one else is going to volunteer anything.

"World War II," Barnes answers like the smartass he is. "Brooklyn."

“I was gone for three minutes," Joaquin clarified through his teeth. He wants to sit down, thinks better of it, stays just inside the doorway. "What if I was someone else?"

Barnes's mouth quirks a little. It's as much a confirmation as Joaquin will ever get from the man that they are kind of their own little triumvirate. If it had happened under any other circumstance, Joaquin would be elated. Right now, he is not. “But you’re not, so relax, Tweety.”

Joaquin rolls his eyes and walks into the office, giving that side of the desk a wide berth. He sets the new drone down, along with a makeshift manual.

“Don’t go gettin’ attached to that side,” Barnes says.

“Don’t,” Sam warns.

But Barnes pushes on. “I’ve hauled him up on that side too.”

Joaquin doesn’t even both to groan. He just leaves the room again.

. . .

“Ready or not!” a small, but very loud, voice calls from somewhere else in the building.

Bucky ducks into Sam’s office because AJ is fast and if he doesn’t take cover now, he’s going to get caught. There’s a gorgeous wardrobe with a false back in the far corner, but Cass had hidden in there two rounds ago, so it’s likely to be one of the first places AJ looks. The desk is too much on AJ’s level for Bucky to hope to hide well under. By design, Bucky is too big to fit into the vents.

The curtains that hang from the windows don’t quite make it all the way to the floor, but Bucky figures his dark boots will blend into the shadows if he stands far enough to the corner. He can hear AJ’s sneakers on the tile, hurrying down the hallways and checking doors, so he jumps behind the curtain and tries to hold it still.

He jumps behind the curtain and directly onto Sam’s feet.

“Ow! Hey! I’m already here. Go find your own hiding place!” Sam hisses, shoving at Bucky’s shoulder futilely. Bucky intentionally digs his heels down into the ground. Sam glares at him, then takes a deliberate step closer. “If you don’t move, we’re both gonna get caught,” he threatens. “And you know AJ will go after you before he comes after me.”

Bucky raises an eyebrow in doubt. He was almost positive AJ and Cass were teaming up to find Sam, who had not been tagged ‘it’ yet in this game. Mostly because he kept cheating by using all his flight training to get up into the rafters where, even if he was seen, no one could climb up to tag him. Well, Bucky could, but it was too much work, honestly.

“I’m faster than you,” he points out. “And I’m not above tripping you.”

Sam rolls his eyes, leans in, kisses Bucky. It’s enough for Bucky to stop digging his heels in, but Sam gets just as distracted. Actually, instead of shoving Bucky out of the hiding spot, he halfway tries to climb up Bucky’s body. It sends Bucky stumbling back, the curtain getting tangled under his foot, and they both end up crashing against the window, curtain falling away in time for the office door to get pushed open.

“Ugh,” AJ says with so much disdain Bucky kind of can’t believe it. “I knew that’s what you two were doing instead of actually hiding. It’s no fun if you don’t try!”

“It’s all Sam’s fault.” Bucky accuses. The elbow into his ribs exacerbates the ache from falling into the window sill too. Still, he puts himself between Sam and AJ. “Go find your brother.”

“Nuh-uh,” AJ insists. “I found you two. I’m gonna tag you two.”

Sam snickers behind him, squirming away from the pinch Bucky’s trying to land on his hip. “You only need one of us,” he points out.

AJ’s mouth curls to one side with frustration. “I can’t find Cass,” he admits. “I need help.”

“Alright, alright,” Bucky concedes. He steps away from Sam, towards AJ. Waits for Sam to relax. Then he grabs Sam around the waist, holding him still so AJ can run forward and tag him as the next seeker, much to Sam’s loud protests.

“Cheaters!” he cries between laughter. “Betrayal!” But it is ineffective in the long run.

. . .

There should be no one else at the compound, so Bucky’s lazily making out with Sam in his desk chair, Sam across his lap. Joaquin is doing Air Force stuff, the other young heroes are out of state or busy, the older heroes don’t really hang out there. There are no meetings scheduled, no tours, no new introductions. It’s just him, Sam, and the sunshine streaming in from the window.

It’s been a while since they’d been able to do something like this. Cap duties had taken Sam away and Bucky had been pointedly kicked off of the jet. He was still piecing it together, but he thought it might’ve had to do with Hydra. Why he was kept out of the loop with those things, Bucky couldn’t begin to guess, but whatever. In the time Sam was gone, Bucky managed to get himself hurt (which is why he should’ve been allowed on the jet) and Sam had come back so exhausted that, even when they were alone, they mostly just took the security of each other’s company to pass out for hours at a time.

But a quiet weekend and a, so far, quiet week had done wonders and now Sam is getting handsy as Bucky absently pets his chest, over his shoulder, and back down his arm. Contrary to what Joaquin thinks, they haven’t ever actually desecrated the office, but Bucky’s willing to break the streak. Especially when Sam’s fingers fall to his waistband and begin to rub out the indentions of his jeans from his hips.

“Come on, let’s break in the desk,” Bucky cajoles, opening his mouth, deepening the kiss as he licks into Sam’s mouth with more intensity than the afternoon had called for.

Sam laughs unexpectedly, sits back, stares. Bucky can tell when the answer is going to be a straight no. This is not necessarily a straight no, which is almost hot enough to get the job done on its own. Sam’s a daredevil. An adrenaline junkie. People think Bucky’s the bad influence, but it’s not always his fault.

Sam’s just about to pass his judgment, is already moving off of Bucky’s lap to sit on the desk, when the door opens. There’s no one there, which has Bucky pulling Sam away, halfway tossing him towards the window for a fast escape. His mind is already racing with the potential threat–a smoke bomb, a grenade, some other small danger that he can’t see over the width of the desk. He hears Sam grab the shield, a sure, defiant presence behind him.

No bomb goes off. Instead, an orange cat jumps up onto the desk.

“Goose?” Sam asks, lowering the shield.

“Danvers’s cat?” Bucky clarifies. “Oh, shit. No, get down!” he shouts, lunging for the cat sitting on top of Bucky’s leather jacket. But it’s too late. The cat vomits tentacles and ray guns and a glove (or maybe a hand) and slime all across the desk.

“Argh!” Bucky shouts, yanking his jacket free, which makes Goose hiss and jump down. Too late for that, Bucky hisses back in his head.

It’s only a split second later that Danvers appears, just as Goose is running out. She watches her with surprise, then looks at Sam. “Cap, I need your help,” she says. Then her nose scrunches and she looks to Bucky and his jacket. “You need to get that cleaned.”

Bucky really considers throwing it at her.

. . .

The reporters are following Sam, who is trying to answer their questions but it’s weirdly difficult to when they’re walking on his heels. The smoke of the battle is still wafting off of him, which he can’t even smell because of the concrete dust in his nostrils. The cameras flashing in his face are doing nothing to help the migraine digging through his head. He needed a med crew to tell everyone he was probably concussed and to leave him alone.

“Captain Wilson,” someone calls. It still sounds weird to hear it. That’s not really his title, but he’d stopped fighting it after the first few months. “You saved more than a dozen people in midair. How did you react so quickly?”

Sam’s shoulders and back ache at the reminder. “It’s my job,” he says. “I’m supposed to save people. These wings aren’t just a fine accessory, y’know.”

“Captain, how did you figure this plane would be attacked?” someone else asks. His office is so close. The door locks now. He has a couch with a weighted pillow that he can put over his face and drown out the lights and the noise.

“When we realized the target wasn’t physical riches, but riches of the soul and mind, it was a quick hop to the plane carrying the summit awardees and delegations.”

“Mr. Wilson, you saved lives and hope tonight. How many future conflicts do you think you stopped tonight?”

“What?” Sam asks. The words just will not slot into a logical order in his mind. “I can’t tell you anything about the future. Very good people were targeted tonight to stoke division and fear. They were targeted by bad people to get back at other bad people. It was a wholly unfair situation. I am grateful for the lives we were able to save. The damage was still large and there’s yet more clean up to do that affects hundreds of other good people. Please turn your attention, time, and resources towards doing something productive too. You don’t need wings to make a difference.”

The reporters mutter amongst themselves and Sam uses the opportunity to get a hand on the door knob, a foot halfway into his office.

“Sir, is there any update on Sergeant Barnes?”

The image of the building coming down on Bucky as he evacuates civilians flashes through Sam’s mind like a hot sword. The crackle of his comm device as it went dead mid-sentence. The silence that followed. Sam’s heart begins to thrum uncomfortably in his chest, rising up to choke out his throat. He can’t cry on camera.

“As far as I’m aware, no one has made contact with Sergeant Barnes as yet,” he starts to say.

Then the door opens. Bucky’s standing there, looking like a sight. There are bandages wrapped around his head and half of his face is bruised into a sickly black and purple. He’s covered in gashes and scrapes. His right arm is wrapped in a sling. He’s hobbling with one boot on and the other foot and ankle wrapped in even more bandages. He’s clearly in so much pain that all Sam wants to do is shove him down on a bed and keep him asleep until the serum can repair everything.

“I was dug out by the same people I had just gotten out of the building,” Bucky chuckles at the camera, like this is a normal press conference. Actually, that’s not true. If this was a normal press conference, he would be in a back room somewhere, glowering at every reporter and cameraperson he saw. He did not like public speaking. But here he is, looking like it’s his natural calling. “They made quick work of it too. Dragged me off to a med-tent. Felt right at home, huh?” he says, directing the last bit at Sam, since it’s usually Sam dragging him to medical.

Sam can’t answer. Can’t breathe. Bucky’s alive. He’s moving. He’s swollen six ways to Sunday, but he’s making jokes. He was in Sam’s office. Waiting for him.

“Excuse me, guys and dolls,” Bucky says with a wry look at the media. Wry, even though the bruising. So unfair. “I gotta do something real quick.”

And then he’s kissing Sam. It’s awkward and too warm. Both of their faces are different landscapes after the fight. They both smell terrible. Sam keeps getting medicinal alcohol in his mouth and Bucky accidentally peels off two of the butterfly bandages on Sam’s cheek as he holds his face.

It’s one of the best kisses of Sam’s life.

This time, he doesn’t let anything interrupt them.

If you enjoyed this, please consider leaving a note or kudos on AO3

#sambucky #sam wilson #bucky barnes #captain america #sambucky fanfic #the falcon and the winter soldier #writing #sbvday2024

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dearmailman · 6 months

Note

Hiii Eddie I hope you're having a good day!!! If you're still taking fic requests could you please write a fic about wally babysitting a little reader who's autistic and they finger paint together or something like that sorry this is kinda long just have a great day

Hello neighbor!

This one's short and sweet. Reader has a small shutdown and Wally, your babysitter, provides comfort through regression.

"Now, now," Wally tuts. "What ever will we do?"

You are sitting in the corner of Home's living room, having come over to play with your sitter earlier that day. You're sniffling slightly, the lights feeling far too bright and the noises far too loud. You have your hands rested over your ears, and Wally's voice is muffled behind them.

Wally sits down across from you, tilting his head. "May I touch you?" You shake your head no, squeezing your eyes shut and pulling back from him on instinct, not wanting your felts to touch each other. Wally nods. "That's okay. Do you need to do something distracting, or do you need a nap in the dark?"

You sniffle again, though your tears have mostly dried and settled into quiet distress. "Distraction," you mutter.

"Okay! I will get my headphones for you, and then I will get a distraction." He sounds very determined to do these simple tasks, as though doing it for you means everything to him. You can't help smiling after him as he walks off.

A loud creak sounds at you, and it makes you cover your ears harder. "No, please, Home," you say, feeling bad that your friend can't speak with you right now due to the way its creaking gnaws at your eardrums. "We can play later," you promise him. Home falls silent respectfully, and Wally emerges from his bedroom with a pair of red earmuffs. They look like lumpy circles at first, but as he gets closer you realise they're apples!

It's a very cute sight, and you smile again despite the tear streaks on your face. Wally gently guides your hands away and immediately replaces them with the earmuffs. He's saying something to you, but it's too muffled to hear, so you give him a confused look.

He speaks up louder, in a very slow, pointed voice. "Would you like to paint, little neighbor?"

You seem unsure for a moment, wondering if the texture of the paints might be too much? It doesn't usually bother you, so perhaps it's worth a try. You nod and Wally nods back.

Moments later, you both are spread out on the floor in between bottles of paint and several pieces of construction paper. You have a green paper and are smearing blue paint over it, creating what seems to be a skyline. Maybe you'll add flowers? Bees to pollinate them? Endless possibilities!

You can't hear Wally, but he's painting beside you, with yellow paper and red paint. While you do feel more at ease, the lights are still very bright, and it's making it hard to relax, as everything seems more saturated, like it's jumping into your face.

"Home?" you call out, a bit too loud since you can't hear yourself. "Close window?" Home creaks their shutters shut for you, and a few friendly squeak, squeak, squeaks! ring out at you. You sigh, the room darkening and now only lit by a lamp in the corner.

Wally pats your head softly, and you turn to look at him, pulling up one headphone so you can hear him. "Reader, what did you paint? Do you want to see what I have painted?"

You hold up your pretty picture of a field, with bright colorful flowers and two buzzing bees, nodding at wanting to see his as well. Wally holds up a drawing that is two circles with one inside the other. You quirk an eyebrow, a little confused. But then it clicks.

"A eye?

"Yes, neighbor. Because eye love you," he boops your nose with a paint covered finger, and the red stains your nose. You giggle and touch his cheek, also spotting him with paint. Wally laughs slowly when he hears you giggling, assuming something silly must be at foot. "Barnaby teaches me good jokes, I think."

"Do you feel better, my littlest neighbor?"

You pause and consider it, and yes, you do feel better. In the darkened room with most loud noises fallen away, relaxing with your babysitter, you feel quite good, even! Wally smiles wider as you nod in confirmation, and he sets his picture down.

"Oh, that's good. What do you want to do now?"

"Snacks!" you cry, raising your hands in the air.

"Okay. I still have your favorites in my refrigerator, blossom."

"Snacks!" you cheer again.

"Snacks," Wally agrees.

You chant it and Wally states it back and forth to each other as you make your way to the kitchen, happy to just be there with each other, despite any troubles the day may have given you.

sfw interaction only

#wally & reader: autistic to autistic communication #special delivery #agere #sfw caregiver #sfw agere #age regression #fandom agere #welcome home agere #fandom agedre #wally darling #babysitter caregiver

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frankieburieshisdead · 1 year

Text

Wonder Woman x Fem reader

Tags: Sex worker POV, set in the late 1950s, porn no plot, wank and tell, top Diana of Themiscira, bottom reader, cunnilingus, face sitting, explicit consent.

18+

She doesn't notice you when she first enters the Tavern. Her hair has fallen over her eyes, matted with the remains of whatever brawl she and the rest of her band of merry women had just escaped. They make their way to the bar where you and four other girls sit behind the counter, each one a different flavor of the surrounding kingdoms. The Gotham girls usually bring in the most clients, with their sleek features and cat-like physiques that Madam Hera calls "porcelain pretty". You are not porcelain pretty. You are "doe-eyed" and "tan" and "a bit on the chubby side."

It didn't use to bother you, not when you were in Smallville and everyone was a bit on the chubby side. But you aren't in Smallville anymore. You are in metropolis and wonder woman is asking you for a pint and a clean room. "I beg your Pardon?" You ask bewildered, not really processing the 6ft woman towering over you. "A pint and a room," she repeates, and you realize what she's asking you. "You would like a room... with me?"

You sound like your tongue is too heavy in your mouth, and your palms have begun to sweat up a river. "I apologize, is that not the concept?" She looks genuinely worried she's done the wrong thing- overstepped some kind of bound. "I ask the pretty girl for the room. 70 US dollars for the hour?" Pretty? You repeat it again and again in your head. She didn't sound insincere, or condescending, or even like she was saying it with a goal in mind. Wonder woman thought you were pretty! "That's how it works." You nod to her, taking her hand in your own as you scurry to the upper floors of the inn. One of the porcelain girls gives you a dirty look, like you've stolen the prey from her mouth. You do your best to ignore it, focusing on the warmth that has dwarfed your back as you reach the door of the first room, the older woman crowding you in. "Are you allowed to tell me your name?" She asks as you two fall into the room, her hands making their way around your waist. You shake your head, even though you want so desperately to tell her. "I can be whoever you want me to be." It's a line Hera taught you when you first started working here, and it still sounds a bit awkward coming out of your mouth. You aren't allowed to give clients a name. "It ruins the fantasy" Madam Hera tells you, and so you remain "Smallville" just as the porcelain girl is "Gotham." She is undressing now, a small smile flashing across her face, amused at your fixed stare. You can't look beyond those broad, defined shoulders, framed by fighters arms that wear the scars they're marked with like medals.

"I could make you tell me you know," and she emphasizes the sentiment as she winds the gold lasso from her waist and places it gently on the bedside drawer.

"Will you?" You ask her in a tone that says you already know the answer. "No" she admits with a chuckle, and you are sure there are visible hearts in your eyes. She make her way to the bed, bits of armor shedding as she approaches. You are suddenly very aware of her sudden nakedness, and your lack thereof. You begin to pull the hem of your petticoat over your hips before she stops you. "Wait" she says, and you're sure you've done something terribly wrong, and you've messed it all up, and she'll realize she made a mistake picking you and- "let me do it?" She asks, pulling you back from your spiral as her hands make their way up your thighs. You are in between her legs now, still standing as she sits on the frame of the bed. Her chin rests on your abdomen, and you look down to deep brown eyes gazing up at you. Her hands haven't left your thighs- little circles of pressure are being massaged into your hip by strong fingers. You realize she is waiting for an answer. You nod your head. The first layer of your dress gets pushed up to just under your bust as Diana of Themiscira kisses any skin she can reach with. You step back, helping her tug the garment off your shoulders so you are left in nothing but your panties and a pair of winter thigh high stockings. You begin to push them down your legs before Diana stops you. "Keep them on," she says, and you can do nothing except blush at the hungry look she gives you.

"Come here"

She pulls you by the elastic of your underwear so that her nose bumps right into your crotch. You can't help but shriek and giggle at the new feeling, trying to push her head away as she nuzzles into the space between your things. You soon have to bite your lip shut as the movement becomes more deliberate- her mouth opening underneath you, nipping at the soft skin around your hip. "How do you like it?" She asks, and you have no answer, because she is your first client. You don't tell her that. Instead you say "whatever you like," and it's not a dishonest answer even though it doesn't seem to be the one she was looking for. She frowns pulls away from you, resting her hands on your hips.

"Have you done this before?" She gives you an expectant look and your stomach drops to your toes.

You try to nod your head, you really do, but something about the look on her face makes lying seem like the farthest possible solution. "Not yet" you answer with your head tucked into your chest, unable to look her in the eye.

You expect her to turn you away. To tell you she isn't looking to be anyone's first time, that she's just looking for a care free night. You'll have to go fetch one of the other girls for her, probably Gotham, and that will be alright, you tell yourself.

She doesn't turn you away. She doesn't ask for Gotham. No, wonder woman firms her hold on your waist, and flips you onto the bed so that you land straddling her neck without a moment if hesitation. This time you really shriek, scrambling to pull yourself off the older woman. She tightens her grip on your legs. "You take the lead" she tells you, boyish grin making its way onto her face, "squeeze my hand when you find somewhere that feels good." She presses her palm to yours so that you're both gripping the sheet above her head, fingers intertwined. 'I'll crush you!' You want to say, but before you can protest the grip on your thigh tightens and pulls forward, and the nose that was once playfully nudging at your crotch now slides right beside your clit. You squeeze Diana's hand almost unintentionally, panting and scrunching up your face as a heat begins to pool in your belly. Diana squeezes back, and suddenly that nose is a lot more active as it nudges your underwear out of the way. The first feeling of her lips between your legs has you on the precipice of a scream, and when she licks slowly, up and into you it pushes you over the edge.

You're making these little 'ah ah ah' sounds as she sucks and licks into your core, and you almost don't notice the frustrated groan from under you. Two taps to your hip and you're being lifted up, a desperate whine slipping past your lips beyond your better judgment. "My apologies pretty thing, there seems to be something in the way," and with that small warning she grips either side of your panties and pulls.

The fabric makes an angry sound as it tears, the elastic band around your waist being the only thing keeping it from slipping off your hips. You can't even gasp as it happens. Something raw and needy pulls inside of you at the display, as if you are realizing for the first time you are sitting on top of the wonder woman. You barely have time to process all the intricacies of that before the thoughts are striped from your head and replaced with 'yes yes yes' as Diana picks up where she left off.

This time there is no barrier between your cunt and her face, and in an act of pure, unfiltered want you grab onto the roots of her black hair and push forward. You are met with the ridge of her nose nuding the ridge of your cunt as her tongue takes slower strokes through your folds. You are screaming now. Shouts and whimpers you are sure can be heard from down stairs. That doesn't matter now. All that matters is finding the climax of this feeling that has been growing in your gut. You keep on feeling it skirt close and then just past you, as if it's looking for something more just beyond where you are now. Your movements grow desperate and choppy as you begin to bounce gently up and down on the older woman's face, met with the encouragement of a groan and a slap to the thigh. You find what you were looking for when two long fingers nudge past the gap of your thighs and take advantage if the bouncing motion to plunge deep into your cunt. You give the loudest, most shameful moan that will ever grace this brothel and stutter to a halt as the spasms of your orgasm rock through your body.

"God's that was hot," Diana pants as soon as you've found the energy to shift off her tongue, half spurred on by the teasing licks she kept up as you came down from your climax. You giggle at that, and blush which seems ridiculous after all that conspired before this point.

"Shall I do you now?" You ask gently, not wanting to shake the serenity the two of you have built in the room, but she simply shakes her head.

"I prefer to take care of myself," she winks at you, and you notice the slick, wet stain on the hand that wasn't holding your own. The thought of Diana touching herself as you were completely lost in your own pleasure ignites a completely new feeling just between your legs, and you wonder if this will be the start of a lot of new feelings.

END

#wonder woman #wonder woman x reader #wonder woman x fem reader #brothel worker reader #dc #18+ minors dni #dc smut #lesbian #wlw

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gemini-sensei · 1 year

Text

Fem!chubby!reader, monstercock!demetri, shi!Eli, mentions of insecurity, nsfw (unedited)

Nerdy, shy, quiet Reader who has been life long friends with Eli and Demetri. They're close as can be, know each other better than they know themselves. They don't want to do anything but watch movies, hang out together, and survive high school. All they talk about are video games and comic books. They literally do everything together, even talk about crushes despite all of them having feelings for each other and being totally oblivious to it, so they hide their feelings by talking about girls like Yasmine and Moon and how pretty they are.

But then one day they're all talking about God knows what while playing a video game. They're laughing at how many ass shots were put in the game but it starts to make Reader feel insecure because she doesn't look like those video game ladies. She's not fit and skinny. She's chubby with a pudgy belly and too thick thighs. So she gets quiet, which isn't normal around her two best friends. They immediately take notice but think she's just getting tired. Eli leans in to start cuddling her like usual, but she pulls away and closes herself off.

"What's wrong?"

"Nothing's wrong."

"I smell bullshit."

She asks them to leave it alone but they don't and she eventually breaks down and tells them. She starts crying because she's not pretty and clearly not the vision of beauty. It's stupid to her because it all started with the stupid video game girls, but obviously they're inspired by real life models and pretty women.

They tell her she's beautiful and spend the evening comforting her, picking out one of her favorite movies to watch while they cuddle in a big blanket fort. She falls asleep between them very warm and cozy and assured that she doesn't have to look like any model to be pretty.

Life goes on, but they're all still hiding from each other. It's so obvious they like each other, just not to them. Their distraction, Yasmine and Moon, can even see it from across the room. As the girls hold hands under the table, they watch the trio and gossip about them; Yasmine calls them "so dumb" while Moon thinks their whole obviousness is cute.

Meanwhile, the trio are talking about how cute the popular girls are, but then Demetri - unfiltered as all Hell - takes a hard left turn when he muses aloud:

"I bet a handjob from a girl is a lot better than getting myself off."

"What the fuck. I'm trying to eat."

"I'm just saying."

Eli is beat red and mortified that Demetri said something like that in the school cafeteria. He watches from the side as Demetri and Reader squabble about it for a good five minutes before she tells him:

"Fine, you wanna handjob from a girl, come over to my place after school. I'll give you one."

They all shut up, in shock at that. Even Reader is surprised she said anything like that. She can't take it back now, though, and it's not like she really wants to...

So they all end up at her place after school and they're sitting awkwardly on in her basement.

"So... should I just...?"

"Pull it out."

"Okay."

He undoes his pants and shoves them down around his ankles, his boxers following soon thereafter. Reader gasps at seeing his semi hard dick and how big it is. She also grows flustered at seeing him exposed and her eyes widen, because she's sure she can't wrap a hand around that.

The agreement also changed somewhere between lunch and now, so Eli is in on it too. So he also drops his pants after some hesitation and he's growing hard. They're both sitting on either side of her, cocks out and she's licking her lips.

She reaches out and grabs them both, or at least as much of Demetri as she can hold, and slowly starts pumping them. She gets a feel for what to do and once she figures it out, she starts really jerking them off. They’re moaning loudly, heads tilted back on the couch, watching her hands with half lidded eyes. They look at each other and are in silent agreement that, yes, this is better than their own hands.

As they get closer it gets harder to keep hold of them. Eli starts bucking his hips up involuntarily and Demetri's big cock throbs and makes it hard to hold. She manages somehow and they come all over her hands. She doesn't know what to do with it, so she gently licks up their cum. Then they return the favor...

She ends un spread open between them, their fingers exploring her opening. The run along her pussy lips, find her clit, spread her wetness everywhere. It's prodding and naughty, Eli hiding his face in her neck while Demetri watches her cunt. Then they each push a finger into her hole and she's whining loudly as they stretch her out and play with her. They finger fuck her, one thrusts his finger slower than the other while they rub and pinch her swollen clit.

From there on out, they do a lot of hand stuff and oral, but don't start a real relationship until a little later on. They don't even officially ask each other out, they just melt into a relationship the night they all took each other's virginities.

They were having a sleepover at Demetri’s house and Reader is only allowed to stay because she sleeps in the guest room while the boys sleep in Demetri’s room. However, that night she sneaks into his room because she can't sleep and wants cuddles. Demetri let's her climb under the blanket with him and soon thereafter Eli joins them. It's so tight, they're really rubbing against each other and before they know it, they're kissing and pulling one another's clothes off.

Reader sinks down on Eli's cock and rides him while Demetri plays with her tits. They have to stay quiet and Eli is so whiny, Reader has to kiss him to keep him quiet. They're both so shy and sweet with each other, they don't start making out until they're almost coming. She's starts having a hard time riding him and Demetri helps her by guiding her hips. When she comes, she shakes and squirts all over Eli's thick cock, which throbs hard as he unloads in her fat cunt.

Once she's recovered, Reader is laid down and Demetri pushes into her. He sinks in and bottoms out thanks to her having her first orgasm and Eli stretching her out. She's still stretched out on Demetri's big fat cock, but she loves it. They hold each other as he fucks her and Eli watches from the side. Demetri has to cover her mouth when he comes because she screams as he slams into her and comes hard.

As they both cuddle up to her for the night, they know their relationship is forever changed and they wouldn't want it any other way.

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fountainpenguin · 1 month

Text

"When they see us coming, the birdies all try and hide... but they still go for peanuts when coated with cyanide~" (x)

---

New Dog's Life chapter today! ~ 3rd Life series fan-season

Chapter 27 - “Boil Over (Bdubs, Scar)”

❤️ Read on AO3

💛 Start from Chapter 1

💚 More Pixels Imperfect fics

---

Bdubs and Grian dance around each other while planning their jungle temple base design. Meanwhile, Scott comes out to Scar about his allay hybrid side. Scar, fearing his glitchy vex code will corrupt his friend, debates cutting ties. Honest conversations are had.

(First 1,000 words under the cut)

---

BdoubleO100 - Phantom

Status: Yearning

Captain of New Star Station's phantom hybrid flock

💙 🧡 💚

By the time Grian swings open the door, wings perky and smile bright, it's too late to deny they're both gunning for something more than "casual roleplay dynamic chat" this evening. Bdubs went and stuck the scarlet feather on a gold clasp, which now hangs from a string at his neck. What are we? is a syrupy-sweet red herring overlaying the actual question of the evening, which is, of course… What are we? Or 'What are we gonna be?' if you wanna get technical.

Grian's face is flushed like he's been swooping laps around New Star all night. His eyes flick low enough to glance off the feather necklace, then bounce up again like he didn't see it. He totally did. There's too much mischief in his eyes. "Whoa," he says. He's fighting back a laugh or grin. He's losing both attempts. "You're really glittery."

"So are you," Bdubs points out.

"Mine's a squeaky clean skin," Grian tosses back. "My plumage would always look like this if I wasn't gathering messy resources and building all the time. What's your excuse?"

"Look at you! Coming on strong, poultry boy." Bdubs pushes through then, knocking Grian with his shoulder. Grian's apartment opens with the sitting area on the left - couch unoccupied - and the kitchen to the right. The floor's so shiny, it must've been freshly mopped. Or licked? Is there a mob that licks the floor? Maybe sniffers do that, though he's pretty sure there aren't any in New Star Station.

Grian's wearing socks striped red and white like candy canes. He shuts the door with a huff, then quips over his lifted wing muscle, "It's Poultry Man. But actually, it's not Poultry Man- Who's he?"

"Yeah, yeah…"

"You got a new lip scar."

"Wait- For real? It crossed over?" Bdubs' fingertips jump to his mouth. Sure enough, the vertical gash Impulse made with his sword curls from his upper lip across his bottom. Yikes. It glows white against his hand. "Well… This'll all blow over soon."

"It looks like a soul wound. Did you get-"

"It's fine!"

There are places to sit at both the bar counter and in the living area. Grian didn't specify a preference. Bdubs realizes in that moment he's never been invited to Grian's place as a proper guest before. He's glimpsed it. But usually when someone's way down at the end of phantom hour and squirreled away in a building, he sends Martyn to handle it. Bdubs hunts the streets on raw wing power, but Martyn's a specialist. When it comes to twisting through little gaps, he's the best they've ever had.

He makes a split-second decision and walks towards the living area. There's a white rug, a nice coffee table, and plenty of room to sprawl. "Hey, did'ya ever find out why we're playing early next session?"

"What?" Grian mutters, tapping after him on socked feet. Then, "Oh, no… I've no idea. It's my birthday, though. Maybe that's why?"

"Hm," says Bdubs. Back in 3rd Life, he sat out a session once for birthday-related reasons. Grian seems like he's thinking the same thing, because he pauses between the couch and an armchair, hands resting on them both.

"… You think I'll miss next week?"

"I mean, if it were my birthday, I'd prob'ly write a list of things I wanted my basing buddy to do. I'm just saying."

"Well, just because it's my birthday, it doesn't mean it's his birthday. And he's not really one to miss a recording."

Yeah, that's true. One time in Limited Life, Grian tried his best to cover when his boss wasn't feeling well enough to focus. It must've really wrecked their sync-cord too, 'cuz Grian kept coughing and lilting sideways like emotions and viruses were dogpiling from above.

Honestly, Grian jumped online long enough to establish a bare-bones presence, then crawled into free-cam and flew off to take a nap. Took ages to find him when the session wrapped up, but there was this whole other side to the map where no one was really basing, and eventually they found his purple parrot soul tucked in a tree with his head under one wing. Figures. Hopefully he'll just stay offline next time, or else call someone in to wear his skin for a day like Cleo and Pearl did when they knew they couldn't make it.

Anyway, Bdubs cocks his head. "Weird day to run the session early though, right? You might wanna write a list of materials or something I can grab in case you're gone. Maybe we need to move base."

Grian frowns, wandering his eyes across the sitting area. His cheeks look full and flushed in the lantern light. "I'd still like a break from building bases that'll just be exploded or burned. I think I'd know if he wasn't going to play, though… Although, Season 9 is ending. What if he's quitting Hermitcraft?"

"Oh, I'm sure that's not-"

The glow of Grian's eyes dims in panic, his energy needed elsewhere as his soul starts to squirm. "What if he's quitting the Life series? I mean, maybe he had a fight with someone. Maybe he yelled at his friend?" He takes to pacing. Bdubs follows with ticking eyes, not breathing a word. Grian always paces when he can't settle down. His fingers fold in front of his mouth. "Maybe he doesn't want me anymore. Bdubs, this might be it. If he's walking out on Minecraft for good, this could be the last night I ever come off AFK."

"I'm sure that's not true, G." He keeps his tone as kind as he can, hands resting in his pockets. At least he doesn't have to concentrate on keeping his wings down. It's just the tail, and that's easy to curl away so it doesn't flicker or misdirect. "It's the middle of a Life series. He's not gonna ditch you. I mean, think of the viewers!"

"I mean, he could. He could just walk out. Maybe he's dying. Or maybe he wants Two to jump in and cover for me." Grian looks down at his body then and rubs his palms across his chest. A pulse of purple sparks darts across his wings, then fizzles out. Bdubs tilts his head, but doesn't jump in. Grian's not gonna want someone baby-talking him while he's flickering. "You know, I… I think he's probably moving bases out there. And he's been playing a lot of Phasmophobia. Maybe New Star's not going to recognize me as a Minecraft player much longer. I mean, that's what happened to Netty, right? Except for her, it was Sims."

"He's prob'ly just wrapping up obligations so he can say good-bye to Season 9 and plan for Season 10. We have meetings and paperwork down here. I bet they have do that kind of stuff out there too. He's got friends and a wife. You wanna talk? I mean, I'm not gonna have solutions, but maybe you can walk me through your feelings."

"He has a wife." Grian sounds… dazed. Shell-shocked. Like he's been clinging to a rope for a little too long and someone just came through and sliced it clean with a Sharpness II netherite sword. Uh. This isn't news to him, right? "He's married. Do you think he has a kid? Maybe I'm a dad. Well, maybe he's a dad… I guess I won't be one unless I want to be. Maybe that's why it's been a struggle to focus on Season 9. Bdubs, you have kids, right?"

Bdubs blinks. "Huh? Yeah. I mean… yeah, my beloved does." You guys all know that, right? His beloved's kids don't have their own accounts yet. Probably someday will, and then Bdubs will do what Impulse and Jewel did and request the newbie to move to New Star, like they did with the other two. They're expecting a third pretty soon, I think. He shrugs. Golly, it's weightless without his wings. "I get emotion bleed from 'em sometimes; they play on my account. I can tell 'em apart. They're sweet."

[Full chapter on AO3 - Link at top]

#trafficblr #Grian #GoodTimesWithScar #Scott Smajor #BdoubleO100 #trafficfic #SnifferMyFeet #NPC Grian #Dog's Life #Dog's Life art #ridwriting #apparently art #mcyt #traffic life smp #Pixels Imperfect #fic announcement #bigbst4tz2 #Sniff and Pig

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actual-changeling · 11 months

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silly little fluff post before i pop off to bed <3 nothing but joy and happiness and Joel and Ellie being soft with each other, i hope you enjoy it!!!

It's not like anyone ever directly asks her about it, but it is an unspoken question that follows them around, follows her around.

Family relations in the apocalypse are a lot looser and offer a lot more choices to everyone involved, but people like tradition, and so most family dynamics are pretty much exactly the way they were before, with some more (technically) adopted family members.

It also means that once Joel and Ellie start trying to properly integrate themselves into the community, but only because Maria hasn't stopped insisting for weeks now, they will be surrounded by a choir of mom and dad and a variety of pet names wherever they go.

At first, it doesn't bother them at all, why would it? People are naturally curious, though, and when they sit down for lunch on their second day of actually eating at the dining hall, a small group (family?) of five joins them, eager to start a conversation. Unfortunately for them, Joel and Ellie are the least conversational people they could have chosen, and lunch goes accordingly.

Ellie stays pressed against his side the entire time, giving monosyllabic answers to any questions directed at her that Joel doesn't catch, while he takes the brunt of it, one hand soothingly rubbing her lower back. Most of them ask about their time outside, how they got here, and what they saw, and she zones out rather quickly, letting the unfamiliar voices turn into white noise, until a specific question makes her snap back.

"So, how old is your daughter?"

Her gaze is locked on Joel's face, expecting him to turn toward her, but he doesn't. He simply keeps tracing circles along her spine and responds to the woman's question.

"Ellie is fifteen now, and-"

"Oh, they grow up so quick, don't they?" She interrupts, the smile genuine but way too sweet for Ellie to be comfortable with it.

"They sure do," and he does look at her now, eyes softened by the crinkling smile spreading across his face, and all Ellie can do in her stupor is smile back, caught in the tumbling rotation of daughter and father, cargo, not your dad, family, home. It wasn't time that did it.

Maybe, she decides, on their way back from lunch so they can stretch out across their living room couch, that was his way of saying it. Of apologizing and explaining. But maybe isn't enough, not for her, and the next time she gets asked, she wants to be sure of whatever she says.

"Sooo," she drawls, plopping her head into his lap and straightening her legs, "you gonna say anything?"

Joel threads his fingers through her hair, softly massaging her scalp and brushing out the strands until they're a silky curtain hanging down his thigh. Her eyes flutter close on their own accord, and she adjusts herself to be more comfortable.

"Gonna say anything about what?"

"You know what I mean."

With his palm cupping her cheek, it is incredibly hard to stay focused, the urge to nap is still strong after weeks of doing nothing but, and the heat seeping into her skin relaxes her enough to free all the tension she usually holds in a deep sigh.

"I do. You're wondering why I didn't correct her."

"Something like that. I just- I don't know. What to say."

His movements are slow and gentle, his thumb brushing across her cheekbone, his pinky tracing the line of her jaw, and Ellie could live in the safety of his cupped hands forever, crawl inside of his chest, and never come out again.

"There is nothing you need to say, you can call- us whatever you want."

While Joel tries to keep his voice light, she can taste the anxiety hidden within, and it isn't hard to tell that while he didn't falter earlier, it's still an important topic for him. They had a conversation about it that did not end well months ago, the first time she claimed her room as her own, and his words have grown roots in the back of her mind.

Not your daughter, not your dad, but those happened in the Before, and they were both in the After now, not ground zero but several memories and connections heavier.

"I don't- I don't mind. People thinking that I'm your- calling me your daughter. Unless you mind. because-"

"I don't mind," Joel interrupts, and the insistence his words carry makes her look up at him, meeting a brown that she knows isn't hers but might as well be.

"I don't mind, and I- it's still early, and I don't know what you are comfortable with, but I care about you, Ellie."

The pressure of his palm against her face wanders down, tucking back a few strands of hair, and she gently curls her fingers around his wrist to keep his hand where it is.

"I care about you, too. And I know I'm not her, and I never could be, but I thought maybe we could just be Ellie and Joel, whatever that ends up meaning."

Joel carefully pulls her upright, and she can't help but giggle when he pokes her sides, and she scrambles to turn around so she can tuck herself away against his chest. With his cheek resting on top of her head and his arms tightly around her, it seems almost silly to think that Joel wouldn't want her like this, that he would ever make her leave because she isn't what he needs.

"Whatever it ends up meaning," Joel agrees, and the kiss he presses to her temple is not only a promise, it's also an anchor to hold onto, to keep her steady when doubt tries to wash her away.

The next time someone asks Ellie about him, the answer she gives is the one she will always give.

My Joel.

Labels, she realizes, aren't as important as people make them seem. In the end, it is always better to just be, to belong with someone, to have someone to call yours.

"My world," Joel whispers one night, curled around her, "my blessing."

And being his, Ellie realizes, is the best of all.

#alex writes tlou #the last of us #tlou #joel and ellie #ellie williams #joel miller #fanfic

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blueberrybladelemonade · 11 months

Text

Confessions in the Dark

Summary: The Noise and Noisette have had enough of you and Peppino constantly dancing around the fact you both like each other. It's so obvious and you both are idiots.

They have an idea though, they'll invite you both to the get together they're having. Everyone will be there and maybe that'll be the push you guys need.

If not, there's option B. Or C.

Contents: The trope of "these two idiots like each other but won't ask each other out", Mutual denying of crushes, Feelings get crushed due to this, Swearing, Noise being rude, Semi angst to fluff, JFC can you both get together already?!, Somewhat suggestive but nothing nsft.

The Noise lets out a groan, "Look at those dumbasses." he gestures across the room at the counter. You had been here for half an hour now, the food you ordered being eaten long ago. Instead you were currently sitting at the counter carrying a conversation with Peppino.

"It's so obvious they're into each other." Noisette agreed, shoving the remaining bit of crust into her mouth. "Arghe gohna ebr conbess"?

"Babe, chew with your mouth closed".

The pair continued observing your interactions. It was pathetic, to be completely honest. If they got here before you did, they'd both notice Peppino glancing at the door, unusually attentive, if it was on a day you'd stop by. You'd alway come in on Wednesdays and Fridays. Any other time Peppino would barely look up from his work to see who entered.

Noisette took a sip of her soda, finally finishing with her food.

"Are they ever gonna confess"?

It was telling enough that you would stop by and simply linger this long. It definitely wasn't because of, in Noise's opinion, the sub par pizza. Some days you'd just order a damn drink and sit at the counter, engrossed in what ever conversations you had with the man.

"Pft. Y/N probably still has that letter, or threw it out. And him," Noise points over at Peppino, "Won't ever make a move on Y/N. They're both fucking idiots. What they need is someone to confess for them".

Huh.

That was an idea. Noise sat up, it was time to go. "Come on babe, I have an idea that they'll thank me for". Noise slid out of the booth with Noisette excitedly following after him.

* * * Wednesday 6:34 p.m.

"We can always just go with option C then." The Noise shrugs.

"What if they just freeze to death instead?" Noisette asks. "And how are we going to lock them in the freezer there"?

"That's option B," he snaps. "Option C is where we'll just walk up to the counter when Y/N is there and just confess for them".

"Shouldn't we try the less drastic options first"?

Noise ignored her, obviously if this plan didn't work, locking the two of you in a freezer where you'd have to hold each other to stay warm was not that drastic.

"So why was option D a thing?" Noisette asks, writing in her notepad, "That will definitely kill them".

He drags a hand down his face with a groan. "No shit. Option D is for 'Die' because if...No! We're not discussing that option. Not unless our other plans fail".

Noisette scribbles something else down before pursing her lips in thought. "So for option B do we need rope or handcuffs? Also I thi-"

"Let's just focus on this plan."

* * *Wednesday 7:15 p.m.

You had finished texting Noisette and set your phone to the side, a small grin forming on your face. Maybe leaving the house would be a good thing. This get together was on Saturday, which was perfect since you didn't have to work.

What could go wrong, honestly? You pause before knocking on the wooden table you were seated at, remembering the old superstition. Just in case. A sheet of paper drifts away, you grab it before it floats to the floor. The smile on your face disappears as you aimlessly scan the words you had written.

You make a face and cringe. How did you even manage to write some of this?

You'd write confession after confession. Hands shaking and your face usually staying a shade of red during the entirety of you writing.

After finishing another letter, you'd slip it into an envelope and seal it.

Then, predictably, you'd come back and shove it into your dresser. With the other dozen or so you failed to give to Peppino. This was just another failed letter for the failure you call your romantic life. You don't even have a romantic life, you remind yourself.

Granted, you felt like you were being dramatic about the entire situation. Why was it so damn hard to write and give him a "I really like you" or "would you like to go out?" letter? You were more terrified of telling Peppino in person, so instead you opted to write your feelings out. Unfortunately you still were struggling.

Numerous times you wrote everything down you liked about him; how he made you laugh, how you enjoyed the times you hung out, how handsome he wa- You faceplant into the table to stop thinking about it, face heating up.

It sounded like an easy solution, just give him the letter. The real reason you were struggling was because you were afraid of him rejecting you. You sit with your face buried in your arms, as your thoughts turn dark. Why can't I do things like normal people? Normal people can just confess and be done with it.

In your case, you just know getting rejected would fill you with shame. Peppino liked you but you doubt he'd want date you. He liked you as a friend. You feel a sharp twinge in your chest.

If you had any obvious signs he liked you more than that, you'd feel more confident but it's not like that'll happen. Too bad there wasn't a big glowing sign that would give you the answer.

You didn't want to pretend you didn't like Peppino -in fact you kind of hated pretending and denying it- but when he rejects you? How would you have to act afterwards? Like nothing happened? More than likely you'd probably stop going to the pizzeria, it'd be too awkward otherwise. And it'd also hurt if you did visit. And it'd also be awkward.

You shake your head, not wanting to dwell on it anymore. At least for this get together you'd get to see him. Maybe you'd get a chance to confess then.

*** Friday 2:12 p.m.

Noise clears his throat, again, attempting to get Peppino to acknowledge him. Peppino ignores the smaller man as he adds cheese to a pizza, never even looking in Noise's direction. Instead he continues talking with you, asking if you'd like to watch a movie next week. You smile and say yes, eyes lighting up as Peppino explains it's an italian classic. He watches Noise still in his peripheral. Maybe if he's lucky he'll get bored and go away.

Noise rolls his eyes, with a "tch" before propping his elbows up, resting his head in his hands. He cracks a smirk.

"Hey buddy, can you take my order instead of oogling your lover all day"?

You snap straight up.

Peppino whips around, eyes wide.

"Excuse me but what the fuck?" you blurt out a bit too quickly. The food you had taken a bite of goes down the wrong way, sending you into a coughing fit.

"Merda! Look-a what you did!" Peppino snaps, "Y/N are you ok?"

You wave your hand, " 'm fine" you gasp, grabbing a napkin as another coughing fit starts. Your shudder as you cough again, downing a sip of your drink. Noise shrugs as Peppino glares at him. After another moment you let out a shuddering breath. "I'm fine, thanks".

Just as Peppino's about to yell at him Noisette pops up beside you.

"Heya Y/N! Sorry Peppino I'm borrowing this!" You're cut off as Noisette grabs your arm and yanks you from your chair. Peppino watches as you grimace, sending him a "what can you do" shrug, as you let her pull you into a booth.

For a time he'd watch you sit, happily chatting with Noisette. He watches as you look confused for a moment before you start shaking your head, as if saying no. As you continue chatting he watches as you suddenly lean closer to Noisette, a smile spreading across her face.

The Noise hops up into the chair you had been sitting at. Now replaced by this menace. Peppino grumbles as he adds on the remaining toppings. "What do you want"?

"We're having a get together Saturday. Show up." He replies curtly. "And three orders of garlic knots".

"Why-a would I"?

"Because Y/N is going".

"And"?

Noise leans in "I know you like them. This is your chance to tell Y/N. Or should I tell Y/N for you?" He begins to move off the seat "Actually, I'll just do it now..."

"No!" he yells, catching Noisette's and your attention. You both stare, waiting for a fight to break out. After a pause you determined an intervention wasn't needed, instead you return to your conversation with Noisette.

Noise remains standing, shooting Peppino an annoyed look. "Saturday. 7 p.m. At the lakefront".

Shortly after Noise and Noisette leave, you come back up to the counter. You thank Peppino for the pizza and tell him to have a good rest of the day. Peppino heaves a deep sigh as the door closes behind you.

*** Friday 11:38 p.m.

Peppino lays in bed staring up into the darkness, replaying that moment from earlier.

It had been months now, when the realization hit him. He adored you. Your smile, your looks, how nice you were, how you brightened his day. He hadn't noticed how much he looked forward to your visits at first, but they had become the highlight of his day.

At some point he had memorized what you ordered. This lead to him always preparing a fresh pizza with your favorite toppings, ready for you when you'd come in. Gustavo had teased Peppino on a few occasions regarding his attentiveness to you, which would fluster him immensely.

That changed when the realization dawned on him. He'd have the occasional daydream (that was more often than he'd admit), but he tried to wave them off.

Sometimes Peppino had thought about asking you to hang out, either to see a movie or a even a simple outing. He thought of buying flowers for those days and giving them to you, watching as your eyes light up from the gesture. He'd imagine how the day would play out and how it might go. And by the end of the night he'd take your hands and ask you to be his.

He'd imagine how nice it must be, to be your boyfriend.

That memory from earlier resurfaced again. Your reaction when the Noise called you lovers. For a split second he felt his heart flutter. Your reaction and look of disgust promptly crushed those feelings.

It was purely delusional to think you'd ever be interested in him. Peppino wasn't exactly what you could call "boyfriend material".

On the surface, he could just look in the mirror and point out a laundry list of flaws. The top ones being; Middle aged. While not a flaw in itself, this paired with his other issues only amplified them. Fat. He wasn't really sure when or how but he had developed a gut. Balding. The hair he used to have and took for granted all but thinned and gone.

Then if you were to dig deeper you would find; PTSD. Anxiety ridden. Short temper. And also sometimes he would wake up in the middle of the night from night terrors. Mentally, Peppino felt broken. Even if you could tolerate him for a bit, you would get worn down eventually. Hell, even he was worn down by it. You didn't deserve to be burdened as well.

You would never be interested in someone like him.

The best option was to simply treat you as any other customer. Peppino shut his eyes, nodding to himself. He couldn't keep holding on to a foolish daydream. What he needed to do was distance himself, then could move on and not have that sinking feeling like earlier with your comment. He'd have to come up with an excuse to cancel those plans next week too.

It would be difficult for a bit but he knew he had to be realistic. The first steps were always the hardest.

*** Saturday 2:19 p.m.

"Sure".

You stare at Peppino, confused. Usually he'd be much more talkative. He barely even glanced up from the dough he had been kneading.

"Are you going to meet up with everyone later"?

"I'ma busy tonight. Saturday's are one of our busier days"

"Ah." You're lost on what else to say, unable to keep from feeling disappointment. While this was true, you thought Gustavo was going to take over for the last few hours tonight. Maybe he doesn't want to be around the Noise? Which is fair enough, but there would be others there too, and not just him.

You shift in your seat awkwardly. Some days Peppino had been busy and couldn't talk, but it wasn't an uncomfortable silence like today. You wonder if something's bothering him.

You pull out your phone to text Noisette. After pressing send you tell Peppino to have a good day as you move to leave. He nods, giving a short "You too." As he pulls a pizza from of the oven.

***Saturday 5:04 p.m.

At an instant the Noise had lunged at Peppino, grabbing the front of his shirt. "Listen here fatass, you better not bail out tonight or you're gonna play hide and seek with a fucking pipebomb." the Noise threatens, glaring up at Peppino.

He rolls his eyes in reply, wiping the flour onto his pants. "I already-a said I'ma going. Quit asking".

The Noise eyes him for a moment before letting go.

"You better close up soon then." he threatens, composing himself before heading out the door. Peppino sighs. He really wasn't in the mood. All he wanted to do was to just close, clean, and go home. He didn't feel like being around you especially, it already hurt to blow you off while he was working. Although with the others there, Peppino could use that as a means to avoid you.

He steps into the backroom where Gustavo was restocking the shelves.

"Gustavo help-a me close so we can go get ready".

"Ready for what?"

Peppino stares confused at him. "The 'get together' tonight? The one the Noise and his girlfriend came in and invited us to yesterday"?

Gustavo shrugs. "First I've heard of it. Why don't you just go now? I can keep the restaurant open so we don't have to close early." he added.

Well that's weird. Why didn't they invite Gustavo? "Are you sure"?

"Yep. Go have fun. Brick and I will clean up too."

Peppino paused on his way out, turning around "Don't forget-"

"We'll make sure Bruno stays out of the trash. And the shrimp".

"Grazie".

Gustavo waits until he hears Peppino's footsteps grow fainter. As he hears the door shut Gustavo takes his phone out of his pocket and searches through his contacts. Finding "Noisette" he begins tapping out a message;

"Peppino just left. Good luck" and presses send.

Mio dios if this didn't work, Gustavo was on board with Option B. He'd even supply a blanket.

*** Saturday 7:04 p.m.

You fidget idly with the napkin in your lap. As of right now, no one else had shown up so it was just you, Noise, and Noisette. You desperately pray that it's not just going to be you and the psychotic duo tonight.

"Where is-a everyone?" the familiar voice makes you jump. You turn and see Peppino standing off to the side.

The Noise shrugs "No one else showed".

You stare at Peppino as he slides into the booth beside you. He wasn't in his work clothes or even the casual ones when you hung out. You stare, admiring how nice he looked in the button up shirt.

Your eyes widen slightly, realizing he had been staring back at you. You smile softly at him and he responds with one of his own.

"Yay! Double date!" Noisette claps her hands, you both recoil.

"We're not-a dating!" Peppino snaps, sliding a few inches away from you.

"Don't be ridiculous!" You had a sinking feeling this was going to happen all night.

Noise's expression changes as he glowers at you both. "Ok I'm fucking over this!" Noise snarls. "Go make out, get a room, and go do...what ever you freaks are into. I'll even give you the handcu-"

He was caught short as you splashed your water into his face, Noise yelping in surprise.

All eyes were on you. What could go wrong tonight? A lot. You feel the blood rush to your face, you sink into the booth feeling Peppino's gaze on you. He was offended no doubt.

Noisette cleared her throat, drawing Peppino and your's attention to him. She had a notepad open and began reading out of it.

"Y/N, you told me yesterday that you thought Peppino was cute but "don't ever repeat that".

Cute? Peppino had been called many things throughout the years. Cute was not one of them.

"And I know you have...how many confession letters? Like a dozen? You wrote but never gave to him." She continues, pointing to Peppino.

You sat there, too shocked to argue. You opened your mouth but no sound came out aside from a pitiful whine. You forgot she knew about the confession dresser.

Noisette directed her attention to Peppino now. "I found this..." In a quick motion, she sets a crumpled piece of paper onto the table and pushes it in front of you. It had your name written down, you recognized the handwriting immediately as Peppino's. Under your name was smaller writing:

Y/N

Mia Cara

Will you be mine?

"Also you admitted last week, with Gustavo as a witness, that you would like to ask Y/N out but you think "They'd have no interest in someone like you".

You gasp you turned fully to stare at him, "Why would you thi-"

"Well guess what?! It's your lucky day! You both want to be together! Yay! Go make out like Noisy said"!

You both remained silent.

"Yeah we're done here." Noise interjects, the scowl never leaving his face. "If you both needed your big ass glowing sign...there you go"!

Noise grumbles, tossing the soaked napkins down before pushing out from his seat. Noisette moves out of the booth to follow suit, she turns back around one last time, smiling and sending you a thumbs up, before catching up to Noise.

"Well..." You trail off. "Uh...would you mind taking me home? Noisette was kinda my ride".

"Si..."

* * * Saturday 7:53 p.m.

Peppino had walked you up to your home, watching as you unlock the door. Neither of you said anything to the other the entire way home.

Now you both stared at each other for what felt like hours. You were home, you could go in now. Instead your feet remained rooted in place, until you said something just above a whisper.

"I don't want to pretend anymore." Your eyes flick to the ground for a moment before sucking in a breath. "I really like you." you say, "And I do think your cute, handsome even, and I love when we hang out. So maybe we-"

You were cut off as he kissed you. Everything had melted away except the warm caress of his lips against yours. His scent was familiar but at the same time new. Enticing.

Peppino drew back with a shaky breath, face flushed. Your eyes meet his as if searching for something. The next moment you grabbed the front of his shirt, pulling him back in for another kiss. You tug him through the door into your home. Peppino wraps an arm around your waist holding you securely against him. With his free hand he cups your face, thumb gently stroking your cheek.

You clasp a hand against the back of his neck, pressing your other hand against his chest. In response he deepens the kiss, tangling his hand into your hair. You find yourself pinned between Peppino and the wall. The kiss had started slowly as if to savor this moment, then you feel his tongue gently graze your lips. This kiss was everything you both had wanted to say. "I want you. Will you be mine? I need you in my life" it was intoxicating. Every touch against each other compensating for all the times you didn't just reach out.

You lean into him, feeling your heart racing and his as well. Both your hands clasped against his neck for support as your legs grew weak. His hands trail down your sides before firmly holding your hips.

He pulls you away from the wall, carefully moving you both back towards the couch. You feel yourself lean back into the cushions as Peppino pulls away. The only sound was your shallow breaths and the feeling the heat radiating from each other. You feel him gently pressing his weight on you, his gaze softening as he came back down, lips once again meeting yours with his hands finding yours as you weave your fingers together.

Now that you knew what you'd been missing, you had a lot of catching up to do.

Sorry this took so long to post lol. I lost progress on this twice when my draft didn't save. 💀

#peppino x reader #Peppino #peppino spaghetti #pizza tower #pizza tower x reader #🫐bladezfics #noisette #the noise #pizza tower fanfic

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sydsaint · 9 months

Text

The reader has a hard time convincing her bosses that LA Knight is worth the push. She finds it especially hard when Pearce is up her ass about backing Knight. But it's all worth it to see Knight's grateful side.

It's a usual Friday night for the Smackdown roster, and you are hard at work backstage with Adam Pearce. Hunter and Shawn also happen to be backstage tonight, so the whole roster is buzzing with questions.

"So we've got our first four men for the United States Invitational," Hunter explains from his seat at the head of the table.

"And we're going to let you two pick the other four." Shawn chimes in. "You each get two picks. So think about it for a minute and let us know." He adds.

You nod and tap your pen on the table in thought. You wonder who Pearce will pick given that he doesn't seem to have any personal connections with anyone on the roster. Not like you do at least.

"Well?" Hunter prompts the two of you after a few minutes of silence.

"I'm going to go with Sheamus and Rey Mysterio." Pearce gives his two names.

Hunter nods and jots the names down. "What about you, Y/N?" He asks you.

"Im going to go with Cameron Grimes as my first." You answer which earns you a smile from Shawn. "And LA Knight for the other one."

"Pfft, big surprise there." Pearce scoffs at your second choice.

You turn in your chair and glare at Pearce from across the table. "Problem, Adam?" You challenge him.

"Nope. Not a thing." Adam scoffs again. "I just said I wasn't surprised by your choices. They're both NXT guys. And we all know that you and Shawn are close." He shrugs.

"Right." You roll your eyes. "I'm sure that's all it is. That's why you look like you're ready to explode."

Pearce huffs and uncrosses his arms. "Fine! Do you want me to say it, Y/N?" He asks you.

"Go ahead Pearce, say it!" You snap back at him.

Unable to keep his thoughts to himself, Pearce gets to his feet and points an accusing finger at you. "Hunter, Shawn, Y/N is clearly playing favorites here!"

"And there it is." You scoff.

"She pushed for Knight to be in the MITB match even though no one else wanted him in the match. And now she's trying to push him again! You two aren't here every week You don't see what I see. And if you did then you'd know what I was talking about." Pearce says his piece.

You roll your eyes again as Pearce snitches on you to Hunter and Shawn. "Y/N?" Shawn gives you a chance to defend yourself.

"He's a good wrestler." You reply in a calm and collected tone. "He's good on the mic. He's one of our biggest merch sellers. The crowds love him. Not to mention that even when he's not booked on the show, he still manages to be our biggest draw on social media. Even over The Bloodline. So you tell me, why wouldn't I want to push him?" You ask the room calmly.

Hunter and Shawn share a look and you know that you're winning. That is until Pearce speaks up again.

"Hunter, Shawn, may I speak with the two of you in private for a minute?" He asks the pair. "Regarding, Y/N?"

"Whatever." You scoff and head for the door before Shawn and Hunter can even agree.

You step out into the hall and lean against the wall while Pearce sits in the other room and gossips about you. The walls in the arena are pretty thin, so you can just make out what Pearce is saying if you listen real close.

"With all due respect, Hunter, Shawn. I like, Y/N, I do." Pearce plays it off as him being nice. "But truthfully, I think that she's sleeping with him. And I know that seems outlandish, but like I said earlier. The two of you aren't here every week. You don't see her with him every week. Talking to him, flirting with him. I've overheard some of their conversations. And they are more than friendly towards one another." He explains.

You scoff and lean back against the wall again. "Fucking snitch." You mumble to yourself while you wait.

A few minutes later, Hunter calls you back into the room. You come back in and sit down in your chair. Pearce wears a satisfied smile on his face and you mentally gag.

"Well?" You sit down and turn to Shawn. "What's the damage? Am I suspended? Demoted? Fired?" You ask them.

"Don't be dramatic, Y/N." Shawn shakes his head. "We're accepting LA Knight as your second pick for the match." He informs you.

You nod and fold your hands in front of you. "Good. It's a wise booking decision." You assure them. "Is there anything else?"

"No. The meeting will pick back up after the show. Where we'll decide who's winning both matches." Hunter informs everyone. "Shawn and I have some things to discuss. But you two can go get back to work." He dismisses you and Pearce.

"Right. Thank you, Hunter." You nod and get to your feet. "See you later tonight, Shawn." You add before you leave.

You and Pearce exit the conference room at the same time and head back to your offices at the same time. When you reach your shared office, Pearce can't help but speak up.

"I'm just doing what's best for the show, Y/N." He tries and reason with you.

"Sure." You nod plainly. "Whatever you say, Pearce." You shrug and pick up your walkie-talkie. "This is, Y/N. Can I get Cameron Grimes and LA Knight to my office asap, please?" You ask.

The room falls silent again until Cameron arrives at your request. He walks over to your desk and greets you with a smile. "Hey, boss." Cameron grins at you.

"Hey, Cameron. Thanks for coming down so quickly." You thank him and gesture to the empty seat by your desk. "I've got some exciting news for you." You inform him.

"Really now?" Cameron replies. "Sounds like fun. What's up?" He asks you.

You neaten a few papers on your desk to create some dramatic effect. "I'm adding you to the US champ invitational match next week." You inform Cameron. "It's a four-way with LA Knight, Rey Mysterio, and Sheamus as well."

"Yeah? That's great!" Cameron takes the news well. "Thanks for thinking of me, Y/N. I won't let you down." He assures you.

"I'm sure you won't, Cameron." You chuckle.

Cameron heads off to find something to do for the rest of the show. Pearce eventually walks off to go find Rey and Sheamus which leaves you alone in the office for a while. That is until LA Knight finally shows up.

"Y/N! Crew told me that you were looking for me?" Knight saunters into the room with his usual swagger. "What can I do for my favorite Smackdown GM?" He asks you.

"I'm putting you in the US champ invitational with Rey, Sheamus, and Cameron." You inform him.

Knight leans against the side of your desk with a cocky grin and chuckles. "Thank you!" He winks at you. "I can always count on you to make good decisions, sweetheart."

"Mhm." You roll your eyes playfully. "You know, Pearce thinks that we're sleeping together?" You add casually. "And he's snitching on us to Hunter and Shawn."

"Is that so?" Knight chuckles. "Was that an option this whole time? Because that sounds like a phenomenal improvement to what we've got going on right now." He teases you.

You laugh and shake your head. "God, why do I put up with you?" You ask yourself.

"Because I'm just that charismatic, sweetheart." Knight winks at you again. "You gonna work that sweet ass of yours off tonight so they'll let me win?" He asks you.

"Depends." You shrug. "What's in it for me?" You ask in a suggestive tone.

Knight licks his lips and looks you up and down. "Oh, I'll make it worth your wild, honey." He assures you.

"I'm sure you will." You giggle and push Knight by the chest when he starts leaning your way. "I'll let you know by the end of the night."

Knight nods and heads out before you get caught by Pearce not having sex. As Knight goes through the door, Pearce walks in with Shawn and Hunter.

"Y/N." Shawn narrows his eyes at you.

"Boss." You smile back at him. "Pearce."

#wrestling #la knight #wwe fanfiction #wwe #wwe smackdown #smackdown #wwe x reader #x reader #wrestling fanfiction #wrestling fic

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lovelybrooke · 1 year

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~~Hiii, you're one of the few people I know here who does platonic!joel and i loved your work. Can you please make a friendship platonic!joel x reader, where they know each other since the day after outbreak and now when they are run for suplies them found coffee and when they're sharing this in the apartment Joel gets emotional for remembering Sarah hates that, and reader comforts him. Reader and Joel don't hide anything from each other, so the reader knows 'bout Sarah and Tommy.

I don't know, just think something with them being comfort to each other in nowadays, u know. Thank you😊

This is home(Platonic Yandere Joel Miller)

Just for reference, the reader met Joel when they were around 15, meaning they would be around 35 in this fic. I thought an older aged reader fit this better and made more sense.

The birth of Sarah was the happiest moment in Joel's life. Seeing her, so small, so venerable, made Joel's chest fill with joy, even as she let out small cries. He knew from that moment; he would do everything he could to be the best father possible.

Raising Sarah was hard, Joel being a single father did not help. While Tommy did all he could to help, there were tough moments where Joel didn't know if he was doing it right, but seeing her, bright, happy, and filled with life made every hard moment worth it.

Joel knows her death was his fault, regardless of you telling him it was not. He's spent the last 20 years replaying her last moments in his head over and over. He would spend nights awake, wondering what he could've done different, secretly wishing there was some way to get his little girl back.

You rear Joel back in during these dark moments, when he can't get out of bed and take care of himself. You're like a parent, making him food, cleaning his apartment, making sure he doesn't listen to the intrusive thoughts that plague his mind. Even though he would never admit it, Joel's grateful you've been there for him. You, along with Tess, make this living hell somewhat bearable.

"Hey, look what I found." It's you, barging into his apartment, without knocking, like usual. Your voice breaks him out of his thought, looking up to see you with a bright smile, brandishing a bag of what looks like coffee beans. Joel grimaces, a playful hint to his voice.

"Where'd you find that?" Joel asks, raising a brow as you sit down across from him. You give him a prideful shrug, sliding the bag over to him to inspect.

"While on patrol." It comes out smooth, like you're trying to brag, which only causes Joel to become more skeptical.

"Why were you on patrol? I thought we go together." Joel met you when you were young, right after the outbreak and he was shuffled off to the QZ. It's easy to forget that you're a grown adult, and that you're capable of making your own decisions.

Joel hears you groan, falling back into your chair in a slouch. "I needed to take a job, or else they'd get wary." The 'they' you were referring to was FEDRA, and he knew you were right. You and Joel take jobs together, but Joel doesn't let you do anything "dangerous." Because of that, you don't take jobs that often, which gets on both your and FEDRA's nerves.

Joel gives a silent nod, "You know these probably taste terrible." He can almost hear your mood change, watching as you snatch the coffee beans from him.

"You don't know that." You argue, getting Joel to crack a smile.

"They look around 12 years old." You snort, walking towards Joel's humble kitchen anyway, beginning to prepare the coffee.

It's not too long before the rich smell of coffee starts to fill the room, and Joel's mind starts to wonder. He remembers waking up to the sound of pans clacking as Sarah makes breakfast for him, shoving Orange Juice into hands as he attempts to make himself coffee, claiming orange juice was "better for his old body."

"You want to at least try some." You're offering him a cup, and Joel can't help but frown.

"No." Is the only thing that comes from his mouth. It's hard, and almost mean, causing you to subtly flinch away from him. In an instant, your face goes from confusion to understanding. You nod, placing his cup on the table, sipping on yours.

"I get it." You whisper, choosing your words carefully. "I'm sorry."

"It's not your fault." Joel doesn't remember telling you about Sarah's hatred for coffee, but if he had to guess, it was probably during one of the many sleepless nights, where all he could do was vent about what he was feeling to one of the only people he trusts. You would sit there, and you would listen, and when Joel would quiet down and become calm, you would comfort him, staying until he fell asleep. And in the morning, you would make him breakfast out of the limited food he had, and for a small second, he felt like he was home.

"If it's any help, the coffee does taste bad." You say, lightening the mood. Joel huffs out a laugh, his gaze down at the floor.

"I told you." He said, picking up the coffee beans that were left and discarding them, you pour the drink down the drain of his sink, sitting down at the couch once you're done. Joel sits next to you, observing your face. He remembers when you were young and immature, him only taking you in out of a sense of pity.

He didn't want to admit it, but you reminded him of Sarah. How you were stubborn, fighting him on the most stupid of things. You were also brave to a fault and would come home baring wounds that made Joel scared. But you were also kind, helping people that didn't deserve your help.

During these first few years with you, he would wonder if you were some sick jokes being played on him, that God, or whoever is up there, thought it would be funny to give him the responsibility of taking care of someone that is so much like his little girl.

But as the years went on, and you began to age, he couldn't help but be grateful that you were here with him. As you got older, he would tell you about Sarah and Tommy, about how he lost the only thing good in his life, and how he doesn't even know if Tommy was alive or not. You took his candidness in stride, offering your sympathies and your aid. You would attempt to find Tommy on the radio when he was out working, writing down anything that was useful for him. You said it was to repay him for taking care of you, but Joel didn't think there was any repaying to do.

"I know you miss her Joel, and I'm sorry. I really am." He didn't know how much time passed, but he didn't really care. He shakes his head again.

"It's not your fault, kid." You snicker despite the situation.

"You know I'm in my 30's, right?" Joel groaned.

"Don't remind me." You let out a loud laugh, resting your head on Joel's shoulder. He smiles at your behavior, undeniably happy.

Yeah, this is home.

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A/n: I think you wanted this to be angsty and this wasn't that so sorry.

#yandere x reader #soft yandere #platonic yandere #yandere joel miller #joel miller x reader #joel miller x platonic!reader #platonic joel miller #joel miller #fanfic #fanfiction #ask #answered

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