strangecreaturewrites

[strangecreaturewrites]

hello, all! just wanted to make an update post to tell you i haven’t disappeared, lol. life has been a little busy lately, and there hasn’t been a whole lot of time for writing. i’m hoping to get back into the swing of things this week <3

[strangecreaturewrites]

Thank you for doing gods work of writing mickey 17 content i was starving with food presented in front of me with none to stuff my mouth with

thank you for reading!! 💘 this movie has consumed my brain, so i plan on writing more soon! i’ve also read a couple of mickey fics on here that i really enjoyed, i should reblog/rec them here

[strangecreaturewrites]

𝐍𝐎𝐓 𝐀 𝐒𝐈𝐍 ✧ 𝐩𝐚𝐫𝐭 𝐭𝐰𝐨 ----- mickey barnes x f/gn!reader

pre-canon au ⊹ read part one here ⊹ chapter summary: you bring mickey back to your apartment for the night, where you two get much closer. nsfw/mdni ----- warnings: oral sex (reader giving), grinding ( i wanna thank everyone who commented on/messaged me about the first part of this fic! all of you were very sweet, and i really appreciate your feedback <3 the story officially has a title, and i will be creating a masterlist post once i have three parts posted. you can follow the tag "#not a sin | strangecreature" for updates as well. hope you enjoy! ⊹ divider by enchanthings-a )

Your apartment was a fourth floor walkup fifteen minutes away from the macaron shop. The gloomy, narrow staircase always sent a foreboding shudder down your spine, and you kept looking over your shoulder at Mickey as you ascended, just to make sure he was still there.

“I didn’t know you walked to work every day,” he said, winded though he was clearly trying to mask it. “Isn’t that kind of dangerous?”

“I can take care of myself,” you replied, a little breathless yourself.

You could hear the smile in his voice as he said, “I don’t doubt it,” and it made you smile too.

You reached the landing to the fourth floor, with its flickering gray-white light above the door, and at the end of the short hallway, you unlocked the door to your unit. This was your first time living in a major city, so your money didn’t go very far, but it was tolerable. It didn’t smell of old pipes or mold, and there didn’t appear to be a pest problem — what more could you ask for, given the circumstances?

The unit opened to a cozy, lamp-lit living/dining room that you decorated in a hodgepodge of thrifted furniture. The archway to the galley kitchen dominated the right wall, while your bedroom door was tucked away to the left. Right by the entry was the bathroom, the bane of your existence if only for how microscopic it was.

You stepped aside to let Mickey walk in, closing and locking the door behind him. You stepped out of your shoes and set the box of extra macarons on the side table along with your wallet and keys.

You watched him as he looked around, taking in what there was to see, and though you tried to read his expression, he only wore the contented look you most often saw on his face. He really was such a good-looking man. The way his hair fell over his eyes was so inviting; you wanted to brush his hair back, to run your fingers along the planes of his face. Your stomach rioted with butterflies.

When he turned to you, a nervous little grin flickering on his lips, you shook yourself out of your reverie.

“Are you hungry? Thirsty? Please, don’t be shy, I want you to be comfortable.”

Mickey chuckled, crossing his arms over his chest. “I’m okay.”

“Are you sure? Here, give me your jacket, make yourself at home, please.”

You could feel yourself fretting over him a bit too much, but he let you get him settled on the couch with minimal protest. You brought him a glass of water, turned on some music for background noise, adjusted the thermostat once you got him to admit the air was a little chilly.

“It’s real nice of you, letting me stay here tonight. I hope I’m not bothering you.”

“You’re not bothering me at all. I’d feel terrible if I left you on your own when I knew I could help,” you replied, dropping onto the couch next to him. Your knee brushed his as you adjusted to face him, and you wanted to find other ways to touch him. Your fingertips running along his forearm, your legs draped over his lap. Maybe he would place his hand on your thigh. Maybe you could shift closer and tuck into his side, his arm settling around you to bring you closer. Your skin tingled as you thought through all the possibilities at lightning speed.

But you held yourself back, even as your heart and mind raced on. He was your guest, and he didn’t really have anywhere else to go at the moment. Your care for him outweighed even your desire to touch him — the last thing you wanted was to make him feel cornered.

So instead, you asked him more questions about himself. With some surprise, you discovered that he enjoyed reading, mostly nonfiction, mostly world history.

“Doesn’t that get bleak?” you asked, raising a brow.

He shrugged. “Kinda. Sometimes it’s nice to know things have always sucked a lil' bit in some way. That it’s not just now, y’know?”

“I guess.”

The conversation trailed off as the music faded out, the silence buzzing before the next song came in. It was a brief interlude, not more than a few seconds, but as you looked at him, with his sweet blue eyes and his hands clasped in his lap, a wave of tenderness washed over you.

“I’ll miss seeing you every day,” you said softly, tentatively. If you’d thought it over some more before you spoke, you might’ve played it off differently, like it didn’t matter to you so much, but the truth of the statement was a weighty thing. It made you feel vulnerable to admit it, and you weren’t sure if that was a good thing. The butterflies rioted again, more nervy than excited this time.

Fortunately, he didn’t seem weirded out by your confession. “Is the expedition leaving tomorrow or somethin’? We can still see each other.”

Your breath hitched. “Really?”

“Of course. You can stop by the shop anytime- or- or not,” he said, faltering toward the end with a sheepish look on his face as you hummed your disapproval, crinkling your nose.

“I am not going back there ever again. Sorry.” Maybe you were being rude, but the aura of the storefront was just too off-putting. Almost as unnerving as your apartment’s stairwell, but in a more subtle way. You wouldn’t be able to explain why if he asked you, though.

He nodded as you spoke, wincing. “I get that. Yeah. That’s okay.”

“But we can hang out when you’re done at the shop,” you suggested hopefully, nudging his knee with yours.

He kept nodding, and you noticed the pink blooming on the shells of his ears. You bit your lip against a wide smile and nudged him again.

“Or… you could come here and see me.”

His eyes widened. “Oh- okay.”

“Would that be good?”

“Yeah, yeah, that would be- so good…” You placed your hand over his where they were still clasped, and you heard his breath stutter. He looked stricken as he stared down at his lap, his expression naked in its shock, and you couldn’t immediately tell what he was thinking.

“Am I making you uncomfortable?” you murmured, squeezing his hands. “Because you can tell me if I am. I’ll stop, I promise.”

He quickly shook his head, a breathless laugh leaving him as he replied, “God, no, no, don’t stop. It’s just been- a while, since the last time I was- y’know, with someone.”

Well, that’s one curiosity satisfied — and yet, it opened a floodgate in your mind. You wanted him so badly, you would do just about anything.

You hummed, shifting closer to him. Slowly, gently, you brought both your hands up to cradle his jaw. “You wanna be with me?”

“Yeah,” he sighed. His gaze softened, locked on your mouth, and the sight made you shiver.

Your lips dropped open as you pulled him into a deep kiss, and in almost the same instant, his arms curled around your body. His fingertips pressed into your back, your waist, gripping you as if you were the only thing keeping him steady. One of his hands drifted up you spine to the nape of your neck, holding you tight as he tilted his head, deepening the kiss further. He was trembling against you, and your head spun with how quickly you two had gotten to this point, each kiss rougher than the last. You pushed your hands up into his hair as you gave him as much as you got.

Heat poured down your spine at the first swipe of his tongue, and you closed your lips around it, sucking gently — not a tease, but a promise of what was to come.

A broken moan erupted from his throat as he pulled back.

“Oh my god, oh my god,” he panted. He mashed his forehead against yours, eyes closed, his breath hot on your skin. “I need to get a grip, wow.”

“I need to get out of this shirt.” One quick kiss. Another. “It’s very poor quality, by the way.”

With an impish smile, his hands slid down to your waist, bunching the fabric as he pulled it up your body. “I can help you with that.”

You hummed happily as you let him undress you.

Yes, he certainly could help you, couldn’t he?

When you were both stripped to your underwear, you dragged Mickey off of the couch and into your bedroom, walking backward so you could keep your mouth connected with his. You both stumbled and laughed as you ambled your way around each obstacle until you reached the bed, falling to the mattress in a tangle of limbs. The feeling of his warm skin against yours, of his hands clutching your body to his — it was the answer to every desire you’d felt lately, somehow better than all your fantasies.

You thought back to those sunny afternoons talking with him behind the counter and wishing you could cut the bullshit and bring him home, and that sense of power from before came pouring back in. He was yours now.

Emboldened, you planted your hands on his chest and rolled him over to lie on his back, straddling his hips.

“I’m gonna make you feel so good, baby,” you mumbled against his mouth, and his breath stuttered and hitched as he worked the clasp of your bra. “You want me to make you feel good?”

He groaned, shoving his hands under the cups to squeeze your breasts as soon as the garment was loose.

“Hm?” you prompted him, nipping at his bottom lip.

He chanted, “yes, yes, yes,” as his hands kneaded you, caressed you. So eager. So irresistible.

You kissed down his chest, his stomach, tossing your bra to the floor. When you reached the waistband of his boxers, you licked a teasing stripe over the skin there, eliciting another wobbly groan out of him. He gripped the comforter with tight fists, and you knew he was fighting to maintain at least some part of his composure.

If you had a stronger will, you would tease him some more. You glanced up his gorgeous body to see a red flush already working its way down his neck, and you wanted to see how far you could push him, what he would do, how he would sound when he was pushed to the edge of desperation.

At the moment though, you weren’t much better off than him. Your fingers shook as they pulled down his underwear, your hand reaching for his hard cock the moment you saw it; he had to shove his boxers down the rest of the way himself, the garment was so quickly forgotten by you.

You angled him toward your mouth, rubbing your lips over the thick head before taking him in. You worked him over slowly at first, recalling the ways to move your lips and tongue — he wasn’t the only one who hadn’t been with someone in a while — and your confidence grew as his breath became more and more labored. His cock throbbed as you picked up speed, took more of him in, keeping your mouth tight and plush around him. As your saliva made things slicker, your hand worked the remaining length, your palm smoothing up over the head when you had to pull off to take a breath.

The next time you sunk down, slowly, all the way until you met your hand, he gritted out, “God, look at you.”

You glanced up to find his wild, heavy eyes, his red, slack lips, his crumpled brow. The flush poured down his panting chest, and his stomach jumped when you pressed your tongue against him, tightening your mouth around him.

He was still clawing the comforter, so you reached up with your free hand to place one of his in your hair. When his fingers tightened there, tugging at the root, you moaned luxuriously, just so he could feel the vibration.

He didn’t last much longer after that, coming over your tongue with a whine.

If you had a stronger will, you would act like going down on him didn’t affect you so much. You would be seductive. You would kiss him lazily, confidently, as he came down from his high, and revel in whatever pleasure he would eagerly bestow upon you.

At the moment though, you were about to shiver out of your skin, your arousal so compounded from weeks of fantasizing, wanting, needing.

In the end, you crawled up his body, your hips pulsing against his thigh as you ravaged his mouth in fierce, biting kisses. When he rolled you over, his hands found your breasts again, and he pressed his leg tightly to your cunt as you ground against him. You whimpered too loudly, considering how thin you knew your walls to be.

You couldn’t wait for him to get hard again, you couldn’t wait for him to do anything else. You couldn’t even wait for him to take off your underwear. Your hips thrusted against him wildly, chasing pleasure until it broke, your orgasm crashing over you in electrifying pulses.

He kissed your lips, your cheeks, your jaw as your body melted into the mattress. You were both out of breath, covered in sweat, and seemingly beyond words. The music you'd put on earlier drifted in from the living room, but you could only hear the impression of it, too soft to discern what song it was or who sang it.

You drifted to sleep wrapped around him, his face pressed into the hollow of your throat. The last thing you felt were his lips, brushing the dip between your collarbones, softly, slowly, as if you were something precious.

[strangecreaturewrites]

hey! i've finished the draft of the next part for the mickey x reader macaron shop fic. i just need to proofread it when i get home from work, so it should be posted later this evening !

[strangecreaturewrites]

I... Just saw that I said macaroni in the ask instead of macaroon and it made me laugh 😭😭 not even that funny

!!!!! you know what, i just noticed that too, lol! it’s all good, i just appreciate gettin’ messages at all <3 thank you!!

[strangecreaturewrites]

Cant wait for the continuation of that fic where you used to work for mickey and timo in the macaroni shop!! It was really really really good and that you fo sharing really!!!!

thank you so much!! 💘 i'm currently working on the next part, so i'm hoping to post it soon!

[strangecreaturewrites]

just a lil mickey x nasha ficlet i wrote at work today <3 cross-posted to ao3

“Were you really gonna kill him?” Mickey asked, his voice so soft Nasha almost thought she imagined it.

It was a quiet evening in their room. The TV streamed a flashy syndicated game show from Earth, the volume turned low. Nasha sat at the table mending a hole in her uniform jacket while Mickey took a shower. It felt peaceful. Homey.

When she looked up at him standing there in the bathroom’s warm yellow light, a towel wrapped around his waist, his eyes were full of a deep, cautious curiosity. His face was set in a serious expression that always made him look a little sad.

Frowning, she sifted through her memories of everything that had happened over the past couple months. Their trial had come to a close not too long ago, but a sense of normalcy was still nowhere in sight just yet. Her aspirations were set on becoming a council-member, climbing that ladder so that she could build something worthwhile here, not just for Mickey and herself, but for everyone.

After a long moment with no answers coming to mind, she asked, “Who are you talking about?”

“Timo. Before Marshall started interrogating us about the multiples violation.”

Ah, that’s right. The rip of the chainsaw echoed in her ears, the vibrations tingled in her palms. She could recall her rage so vividly, the way it made everything within her absolutely still, the way it gave her perfect clarity. All of her incredulity, her indignation, her hardwired need to protect the man she loved — she channeled it into clean, calculated action. Timo had cried his crocodile tears, claimed he had to do it, he had to kill him, but that meant nothing to her, how could he even think about-

A furious rush of blood pulsed in her temples, and with a small shake of her head, she blinked away the memory. If she thought about it too hard, she might march over to that man’s room right now and-

Nasha cleared her throat, shifting in her seat.

“Of course I wasn’t going to kill him,” she said, turning her attention back to her sewing. “Just wanted to intimidate him a little, that’s all.”

“That’s not what it felt like.” His response was softer than his question had been.

A sly grin tugged at the corners of her lips as she asked, “Are you upset with me? Because you shouldn’t be, he was going to kill you first. Someone had to do something to stop him. Besides, I’ve threatened people for less — in your honor, I might add.”

“I know, I know,” he told her, and the affection she heard there washed away any worries that he might actually be angry. “But he didn’t have to die, right? I’d hate it if you did something you’d regret ‘cause of me. Plus, he’s been my friend basically all my life… His back was to the wall, y’know?”

Nasha sat her jacket and thread aside with a noncommittal hum. It didn’t really matter at this point, did it? Timo’s reckoning with Darius Blank’s associate had come and gone, his trial was over, and he still ate dinner with them every evening. Mickey was alive and well and happy that everything turned out alright, so how could she be angrier than him about the whole ordeal?

She looked up to find him already watching her, leaning against the doorframe. He carried with him the clean smell of soap and the standard-issue shaving cream, the scent pouring into the room on damp air, and it made her shiver.

She stood up, walking over to him as she said, “Well then, it’s a good thing you were there to stop me.” Her fingers found the edge of the towel, loosening it and letting it drop to the floor. “Thank you for keeping me in check.”

“Thank you for loving me so much.” He wrapped his arms around her, gently pulling her against his naked body.

“Of course,” she murmured before capturing his mouth into a slow, heated kiss.

[strangecreaturewrites]

update: the other two fics i was going to edit/post this week are gonna sit in the drafts a lil longer. i have a new mickey x nasha idea i'm pretty excited about, and i want to work on it while the story's still fully formed in my head !

⟢ ⎯ 𝐏𝐎𝐒𝐓𝐈𝐍𝐆 𝐓𝐇𝐈𝐒 𝐖𝐄𝐄𝐊

hey! i have some one-shots that have been living in my notes app, but with my work schedule and some personal things going on, i haven't been able to edit them properly and post them. but i finally got some free time this past weekend, so i'll be rolling them out over the next few days! in case anyone's interested, here are the fics i'll be posting & the days they'll go live <3

⎯ tuesday (3/25) ⊹ mickey barnes x f!reader ⊹ pre-canon au, reader works at timo & mickey's shop for the brief period of time before it failed

⎯ wednesday (3/26) ⊹ mickey 18 x f!reader x mickey 17 ⊹ mickey 18 lives au, pwp basically unless i add more in the edit lol

⎯ thursday (3/27) ⊹ mickey barnes x nasha barridge ⊹ post-canon, morning routine/domestic fluff <3

⎯ friday (3/28) ⊹ edward cullen x f!reader ⊹ a short angsty new moon fic, saving edward from provoking the volturi

[strangecreaturewrites]

⟢ mickey 18 x f!reader x mickey 17 ⊹⠀ ﾟ ˖ post-canon au nsfw/mdni ----- warnings: threesome, overstimulation, voyeurism, oral sex, fingering, handjob, dirty talk, 18 being mean to 17 (classic), excessive swearing

mickey-18 knew he was lucky to be alive. all because of some faulty wiring in the bomb’s remote ignition, thanks to arkady’s failing-up approach to science. the look marshall and 18 shared when they realized there would be no explosion was incomprehensible — even if he included 17’s fluke with the crevasse, mickey barnes had never been so dumbfounded to be alive. then, after that confounding moment of nothing, death still came knocking at the door, and it still wasn’t his. in fact, he was the one dishing it out!

maybe mickey barnes would never die again. been there, done that, got the memories to prove it. there’s two of ‘em now? who cares. is it a multiples violation? who cares. that’s what the council decided in the end. who. fucking. cares.

wanna know the only thing 18 cared about?

that time of the night when his world shrank to the size of a bedroom. when the door could be locked, and clothes could come off, and everyone else could go fuck themselves. the only people on the planet who mattered were you and him. and 17. he was there, too.

the only thing 18 wanted to do was feel his body on yours, skin on skin, perfectly aligned. he wanted to lavish your lips with kiss after kiss, quicker than your mind could keep up with, each one deeper and rougher and dirtier than the last. his hands traveled restlessly over your curves, squeezing and gripping like he wanted to leave his mark on every inch of your skin. he kissed and bit his way down your neck, your breasts, your stomach, and his smirk grew wider with every whimper and moan he coaxed out of you. it made him so hard to know he was the one who could do this to you, he was the one who made you feel like this, sound like this. the gratification was unparalleled.

he still remembered the way it felt to fuck you only a couple hours after he’d been printed, still chased that feeling every time you’ve fucked since. it was always a sensory overload, that first time. every mickey was always a little too exhausted for sex straight out of the printer, but there was really nothing else like it, so he couldn’t pass it up — 18 certainly didn’t. electricity firing in all directions, lighting up his nerves in unexpected ways, leaving him boneless, helpless to the pleasure. he kind of floated like that when he was on oxy, but it wasn’t the same. the drug didn’t capture that raw, almost painful feeling that made him want to scream when he sank into you, when you pressed him into the bed, when he came into you, flashing lights blinding his rolled-back eyes.

he wanted that all the time. it was too much, and that’s the way he wanted it. if somethin’ had to take him out, if he had a say in any of that the next time around, then he wanted to go out drowning in you. it was that or nothing.

and also, 17 was there.

the whole thing with the creepers and marshall’s death changed him a bit, he wasn’t such a pathetic lil shit anymore, thank fuck. buuuttt some things stayed the same.

as 18 made himself comfortable between your legs, 17 watched. it was like he didn’t know how to participate, even though they’ve been having sex with you for years now — 1 through 18, all the same difference — and you had sex diagrams and it should all make sense by now.

dumbass, 18 thought as he spread you open, getting that first taste of your arousal in a long, teasing lick before sealing his lips over your clit and getting to work.

the multiples thing still made 17 cagey. he always started off a little nervous, a little uncertain, but he eventually came around. ‘you’re thinkin’ about it, don’t think about it,’ 18 always said, but 17 never remembered. he’d started off just sitting there on the edge of the mattress, eyes wide, jaw slack, hand on his dick — over his pants because he was always the last one to take his clothes off, dumbass — touching himself idly until he decided to do something.

what will it be tonight? 18 would wonder gleefully in the privacy of his thoughts. he would start these nights making bets with you on what would set 17 off if you didn’t scold him for bullying his clone too much. but it was just too easy and too fun.

your whimpers turned into whines as 18’s mouth brought you higher and higher, your voice so broken and beautiful in his ear that he couldn’t stop himself from moaning too. you sank your fingers into his hair, throwing your head back on the pillow with a cry when he pushed two fingers into you. gradually, he worked up to a brutal pace, as fast as his hand could go from his angle, all while his lips and tongue worked you over in tandem. it was a practiced art of his, getting you off this way, and his cock throbbed not only from the pure bliss of getting to do it, but because it was so clear how much you loved it.

when your orgasm hit you, your back arched and you shouted his name — almost. suddenly, you were locked in a fevered, shaky kiss, 17’s hands cradling your overheated face, pulling you up to meet him as he leaned over you. languid as if he’d just come too (though he definitely hadn’t yet, not by a long shot), 18 lifted up from your pussy, laughing at his clone’s desperation.

he yanked at 17’s shirt, his waistband. “you’re overdressed for the party, buddy.”

“shut the fuck up,” 17 mumbled against your lips, but his hands started tugging at his clothes, fussing when 18 tried helping him.

you reminded them of the rules, “play nice, boys, or we’ll stop,” and in unison, they replied, “yes, ma’am.”

even this part was 18’s favorite. the sharing. it wasn’t so bad, when 17 finally figured it out.

he got to sit right beside his clone and watch as your mouth sank over 17’s cock, your lips wrapped so snugly around the head. got to hear the wet sounds as you worked him over, taking in more and more of his shaft until you met the base, fully in, your tongue working magic he couldn't see but knew all about. you swallowed around him carefully, and it was like 18 could feel it, just a psychosomatic response, the memory of how you’ve had him exactly like that before. he grabbed your hand and pulled it into his lap, wrapping it around his own cock, the head so slick with pre-come. you didn’t move your hand so much as you let him fuck it. your attention was focused on the cock in your mouth, the moans escaping from 17’s throat, the shifting of his hips as he wanted move but tried to be mindful not to choke you. 18 fucked your hand fiercely, so enamored with the sight of you like this — it was like watching porn, but it was real and it was him, even if it really wasn't. he knew exactly how it felt, but he could see it in a whole new way.

he didn’t even mind when 17 rested his cheek on the outer curve of his shoulder, leaning into him for support to keep from melting into the mattress, moaning loudly, shakily, as you picked up speed. yeah, he knew exactly how that felt, and it was fucking incredible.

18 came over your fingers with a grunt, chest heaving, his face covered in a light sheen of sweat. 17 was still stuck there against his side, his eyes fluttering, lost to the pleasure, and he decided to be a good guy and help him along: “just look at that, she’s so fuckin’ beautiful like this. move a little, she can take it, can’t you, baby? yeah, you know she can, man, just fuck her a bit- there you go, that feels fucking good, right?” he said every filthy thought that entered his mind, his voice curling darkly around each word, until 17 tipped over the edge, gasping as he came, lodged deep in your throat.

you should be proud of him, right? for provoking his clone in a good way for once.

this was all that meant anything to 18. there was a whole new world to discover, homes to build, life to create. he knew all of that, and it was all well and good.

but this. nothing could top it. it was the one and only thing that mattered. fuck the rest.

[strangecreaturewrites]

mickey barnes x f/gn!reader ⊹ after your life is upended, you move to a new city to start over. you take a job at the first place that will hire you, which just so happens to be a dubious little bakery owned by two men named timo and mickey. pre-canon au. (18+) nothing crazy here, but it will be nsfw if i write more in the future. ( this fic was built off of some ideas i wrote down in my notes app over the past couple weeks, and i wasn’t sure if i wanted to develop it into something more. i could totally spin this out into something so much larger, i have several ideas for it, but i already have too many wips at the moment >.< ----- divider by saradika-graphics )

You knew the business was going to fail as soon as you set foot in the building. The place used to be a bakery, so it looked the part of a macaron shop, with its faded sea-foam green wallpaper and white counters and tables. But it lacked one crucial element: demand. No one even glanced at the storefront as they walked past, a detail you immediately picked up on during your interview.

But you needed the work, so you took the black T-shirt that would be part of your uniform and shook hands with your new employer, a man around your age named Timo. His business partner wasn’t around on your first day, but it wasn’t too long before you met him, too.

Mickey Barnes. You were obsessed from the moment you saw him, but not in the usual way. He was an awkward man, clumsy and self-conscious, but he was kind to you and easy to talk to. He had a pretty face, an unflattering haircut, and an earnest sort of demeanor you hadn’t seen in a long time, especially since you moved to the city. He was sweet, much sweeter than a lot of guys you’ve known. This sweetness pulled you in, made your heart flutter, made you curious — it even made it easier to show up for work most days, knowing you'd get to see him.

Personality-wise, your two bosses were like night and day. Timo was charismatic, witty, a people-person. A bit of a liar, a bit selfish. You didn’t trusted him too much, and working for him was… well, let’s just say, you had to deal with some dumb shit. He paid you in cash, and usually only after you hounded him for it.

While Timo stayed in the manager’s office all day doing who knows what, Mickey would stand behind the counter with you and talk. When a rare customer came in to buy something, he would box up their macarons while you rang them up.

You only worked there for a month, but in that short time, you got to know him well. You learned his favorite movies, the music he liked to listen to, the jokes that made him laugh. You knew he had no family, no relationships, no plans for more than what he already had in this phase of his life. You became familiar with the deer-in-the-headlights look in his eyes when you told him he looked good, and you knew his ears would turn red if you pointed out when a customer was checking him out.

It was no time before you found yourself thinking about him in your bed at night, spinning fantasy after fantasy. Eventually, nearly every hour of the day was consumed by thoughts of him. He was just too cute. You imagined pushing your flirtations farther, wondering what he would do or say if you pressed his buttons enough. He didn't seem shy — just awkward.

Was he a virgin? No, no, you didn't think so. You wanted to ask him...

On the flip side, you were shocked by yourself! It never used to be this hard, keeping things professional, especially with your former bosses. (Then again, you've never been this attracted to someone you've worked for before.) You tried not to cross too many boundaries, but it was just too fun to tease him. Even when he seemed embarrassed, he laughed right along with you, so why stop? It made you feel good to have his attention, and he seemed flattered by the attention you gave him.

There were some times when you thought he was a little too easygoing, though. You quickly picked up on the odd dynamic between Timo and Mickey; they were friends, roommates, and the co-owners of this failing bakery, and it was clear to see who called the shots and who fell in line regardless of whether or not those decisions made sense. You often defended Mickey from his friend’s snide comments, but half the time he didn’t seem to care that he was being insulted. He would tell you not to worry about it, smiling his good-natured smile and waving his hand dismissively.

You wondered if Mickey was really unbothered, or if there was something he wasn’t letting you see.

The day you decided to quit, you told Mickey first. It was the end of your shift, the pink-purple sunset reflecting off the shop windows across the street. You just finished cleaning out the display case and boxing up the cookies that couldn’t be saved for the next day. Timo was in his office, and Mickey had just finished sweeping the pristine floors.

You thought he might panic and beg you to stay — you even hoped he might tell you he’d miss you too much for you to leave, or ask if there was a way he could see you outside of this place — but he just nodded, scrunching up his nose in a wince.

“Okay. That makes sense,” he said, almost as if he was apologizing to you. “I wouldn’t wanna stay either if I were you.”

You gave him a confused look. “You own the place, you could close shop and leave anytime you wanted.”

“Ah, well…” A blush crept across his face as he stumbled over his words. “It’s a little more complicated than that, with money, and- and we don’t exactly, uh- ‘own it,’” he stammered out, bringing his hands up to air-quote the last couple of words. You continued to stare at him, waiting for him to explain further, until he waved his hand, as if batting the prickly topic away. “Doesn’t matter. What I’m saying is, you have so many more opportunities. I don’t know why you applied here in the first place.”

“I needed a job,” you replied curtly, looking away from him. Why you moved away from your small town to the city, why you had to find work so quickly — it was a sensitive subject for you.

Thankfully, Mickey seemed to pick up on your discomfort.

After a tense pause, he cleared his throat, then asked, “What’ll you do next?”

You laughed humorlessly, pulling yourself up to sit on the counter by the register. He took a few steps closer, resting his hand on the edge of the counter near your knee.

So close… It’s been too long since you’ve felt anyone’s skin against yours, and he has been on your mind so much lately. You imagined sliding your hand over his as you answered him.

“Applications are supposed to be opening up soon for that expedition Kenneth Marshall is attempting." You sneered a bit as you said the politician's name, causing Mickey to laugh. “I’m gonna live on what’s left of my savings ’til then, and I’ll see if I can hitch a ride on that.”

“Doing what?”

“I was a paramedic before I started working here. I was a pharm tech before that.” You quirk an eyebrow at him, a sly smile curling at the corners of your lips. “You think they’ll need medics in space?”

“Definitely,” he replied, sounding a little awed, smiling that adorable smile of his. “They’ll be lucky to have you.”

You hummed, warmth blooming in your chest. Sometimes, his sincerity made you ache. You decided to make your move and put your hand on his, squeezing it gently. You told yourself it was just a way of saying thank you, even as your thumb slowly brushed his wrist, back and forth, over and over. The tips of his ears started turning pink, his wide eyes locked on your hands, and it made you felt powerful.

“Can I be honest with you? Because you’re a good guy and I worry about you.” When he nodded, you continued, “This place isn’t gonna last, Mickey. You need to get out of here, do something else.”

He rolled his eyes, grinning a little. “Like what?”

“Literally anything else. You could… I don’t know…”

He nudged your leg with his knee, his grin growing wider. “See? That’s the problem, I don't know either.” For a moment, he looked off toward the window, lost in thought. Then he shook his head. “Nah. I’m gonna stick this out with Timo. He’s my good buddy, I trust him.”

You scoffed. “Whatever you say.”

“He’s good to me,” he replied defensively, his brows furrowing. You couldn’t help but stare at his lips, set in a little, almost pouty frown. You thought about bringing your hands to his face, pulling him closer, when the electronic doorbell chimed.

Quickly, you leapt off the counter and whipped around to see two women lingering in the doorway. By their looks, they were in their early twenties, wearing short club dresses and heavy make-up. They were bright-eyed and beautiful, giggling between each other and looking around the mostly empty room. They seemed hesitant to come inside, making eye contact with you as if they were waiting on some instructions.

“Oh, hey, sorry, we’re closing in-” Mickey looked down at his watch.

In a jarring bit of motion-and-sound, Timo breezed through the swinging kitchen doors, past the counter, toward the women. “Don’t worry, Mick, they’re here for me.” 

“Oh, okay,” Mickey said faintly, startled.

You both watched Timo nestle between the women, his arms around their shoulders. Then, as if on cue, he winced dramatically and said, “Damn, I forgot to tell you, man. I need the apartment for the night. You know, company and all. You understand.”

Mickey blinked, giving a little shake of his head, then corrected himself. “Right. Yeah. That’s fine, I’ll figure somethin’-”

The trio were already turning to leave as Mickey spoke, Timo yelling over his shoulder, his voice overlapping Mickey’s, “Hell yeah, man, you’re the best. See ya tomorrow, Mick! And uh, you too…”

Even after a month, he still didn’t remember your name. Why are you not surprised?

“Asshole,” you snarled, watching the trio strut past the window. You turned to Mickey, who still looked a little baffled. “Do you have somewhere to go?”

He shrugged. “Nah, but it’s not a big deal. Usually I just walk around for a few hours, then I sneak in at around two or three. Hell, I can sleep here if I gotta.”

You stared at him for a moment, waiting for him to say he was joking. When he only stared back, his blue eyes so full of that earnestness you’d grown to associate with only him, you grabbed the boxes of extra macarons and told him, “You’re coming home with me.”

“Oh! Uh-”

“Hush. Come. Now.”

He scrambled to keep up with you, barely remembering to lock up in his haste. You smirked, feeling that private sense of power once again. But there was also excitement — finally, you would get to have him all to yourself.

( i planned a sex scene for this, but i tragically lost focus and i don't even know if this would be interesting to anyone, so if you want to see more, please tell me! i want to write so much more for this, but i am not a self-sustaining machine, lmaoooo

update 4/3/25: here is a link to part two! thanks for reading!! <3 )

[strangecreaturewrites]

⟢ ⎯ 𝐏𝐎𝐒𝐓𝐈𝐍𝐆 𝐓𝐇𝐈𝐒 𝐖𝐄𝐄𝐊

hey! i have some one-shots that have been living in my notes app, but with my work schedule and some personal things going on, i haven't been able to edit them properly and post them. but i finally got some free time this past weekend, so i'll be rolling them out over the next few days! in case anyone's interested, here are the fics i'll be posting & the days they'll go live <3

⎯ tuesday (3/25) ⊹ mickey barnes x f!reader ⊹ pre-canon au, reader works at timo & mickey's shop for the brief period of time before it failed

⎯ wednesday (3/26) ⊹ mickey 18 x f!reader x mickey 17 ⊹ mickey 18 lives au, pwp basically unless i add more in the edit lol

⎯ thursday (3/27) ⊹ mickey barnes x nasha barridge ⊹ post-canon, morning routine/domestic fluff <3

⎯ friday (3/28) ⊹ edward cullen x f!reader ⊹ a short angsty new moon fic, saving edward from provoking the volturi

[strangecreaturewrites]

⟢ i won't leave you, pt 2 ⊹⠀ ﾟ ˖

mickey x f!reader ⊹ fresh off the printer, mickey finds you in bed. an important conversation follows. warnings: some kissing in this part, but nothing too crazy. ✧ part one ‧ ₊ ˚ . ( i don't have any further intentions for this lil fic, but please let me know your thoughts or if you would like to see more <3 )

Mercifully, you had a dreamless sleep. The next thing that broke through into your conscious mind was the feeling of a cool sheet being pulled over you, a gentle hand on your bare shoulder, a lingering kiss pressed to your forehead.

Your eyes snapped open with a gasp. The lights in the room were dim, and you guessed it must have been evening by now. It can be hard to tell in these windowless rooms.

It took a moment for your vision to focus, but when it did, the beauty of Mickey’s widened, clear, perfect blue eyes took your breath away.

He’s here.

“Oh! Sorry,” Mickey whispered, wincing a little. “Didn’t mean to wake you up. Let me just get undressed, an’ I’ll join you.”

If you had to be honest, the last thing you wanted was to stay in bed. Your body ached from sleeping too long, your empty stomach was cramping so hard you felt sick, and your head felt like it was full of sand after crying the way you did. Instead of saying any of that though, you sat up and silently watched Mickey take off his standard issue shirt and pants. You swallowed and swallowed against the lump in your throat so that you could talk to him without sounding too emotional, too upset.

He filled the silence with chatter, seemingly oblivious to anything that might be wrong with you.

“-said I nearly fell to the floor when I came out this time, how funny is that? Bet I looked pretty goofy there for a minute, floppin’ out of the printer like that.”

He balled up his clothes and tossed them into the corner of the room. You admired his body the way you always did, thought about how it wasn’t fair that he could look this good in the generic white boxers inventory handed out, and you worked to not let the raw, tender feeling in your chest get the best of you. How lucky you were, you reminded yourself.

His new body always moved a little sluggishly, so when he swung his arm back, he clipped his hand on the edge of the table, hard. He yanked it to his chest with a pained hiss, and on a different day, you might have teased him for his clumsiness or reminded him to be careful. This time, you just winced, tears stinging your eyes. Why did you have to be so damn sensitive right now?

With an exaggerated, silent ‘ouch!’ Mickey shook out the pain in his hand. He sat down on the edge of the bed near you. “Don’t worry, pain receptors are working just fine. Anyway… how was your day? Y’ looked like you were sleeping hard, so you must’ve had a rough shift. I hate that I missed- oh, hey- mmh!”

You pulled him into a deep kiss, cradling his face. The tender feeling coiling around your heart surged, and you dragged him further into you, your fingertips pressed into his jaw, his neck. The angle was awkward, your front pressed into his side, your body wrapped around his from behind. But he moaned anyway. Smiled against your lips anyway. Shifted his body to curve toward yours so he could wrap his arms around you, as if nothing burdened him.

Your lips moved roughly against his, opening up to taste his tongue, and he met you with the same fervor, though the energy felt different coming from him. You felt out of control, wound up, hungry; he was passionate, but he was also blissful, relaxed. There wasn’t a bit of tension in his body — he would take your onslaught happily, without question.

Didn’t he remember what happened? Didn’t he remember you were there?

Mickey’s arms tightened around you, pulling you in until your knee slid over his legs. You straddled him, not a whisper of space between you, and your body felt like it was singing. Your mind floated away from you as your hands roved over his shoulders, his back, his arms. He was here and well and whole and alive. He died in your arms, and when he woke back up, the first thing he did was find you. Was there any fact more monumental than that? Could anything else ever matter more than that?

Head swimming, you pulled back to take a shaky breath. Before you could dive in again, Mickey tilted his head away. His eyes, soft with exhaustion, looked over your face thoughtfully.

Then, so gently that you knew exactly what he meant, he asked, “Are you okay?”

Your breath hitched. You were stricken once again by every complicated thought and emotion you couldn’t put words to this morning.

Are you okay? Would he feel guilty if you said no? But how could you be anything other than okay now? All of your tears and heartache — hadn’t it all been for nothing, when you knew you would be with him like this?

“Yeah,” you replied, already leaning in to claim his mouth once more.

He let you kiss him, let you tip him back onto the mattress, but before you could lose yourself in him, he drew back again.

“You don’t… seem… okay,” he murmured, his voice quiet, hesitant.

Maybe he hadn’t been so oblivious, like you had assumed before.

You pressed your forehead to his, closing your eyes. “I’m fine. I just need to be with you.”

“Okay, well… I wanna say something first, before we do anything else.” Then he paused for a moment, brushing his nose with yours. Your heartbeat thrummed in your ears, roaring over Mickey’s soft voice. “You know I can’t resist you, but some things are more important, y'know? What you did for me, in the tank… I never would’ve asked you to do that, not in a thousand years. It must’ve been hell. I know you’re strong, but… that’s the type of stuff that breaks people, and… I just wanted to say, you never have to do that again. You never have to watch me… y’know, die like that. Ever again.”

“If I’m there when it happens again, I’m not leaving you,” you said before your brain could catch up with the words. Your voice sounded more confident than you might have expected, and after a moment of reflection, you realized that you weren’t just saying it. You really meant it.

Mickey laughed, breathy, incredulous. “Why d’you put yourself through this stuff for me?”

You looked into his deep blue eyes, and you knew no one else could look upon you and make you feel this way. Something in you clicked into place, and you felt solid, stable for the first time since Mickey took his most recent last breath. You didn’t have the answers you were agonizing over before — all of the questions simply disappeared. It was ridiculous to ask them in the first place.

You ran your fingers through his hair. The way his body melted a bit under yours made you smile.

“Because I’m yours, and you’re mine. And I don’t think anyone should suffer like that alone. Especially not you. Not when I love you so much.”

“I love you too, you don’t even know how much,” he said, leaning up to kiss you. “But I don’t want to hurt you.”

“What kind of person would I be if I said I loved you then left you like that?”

He scoffed, kissing you again. “A normal one.”

“Do you want me to be a normal person?”

“No.” Another kiss.

And another. And another.

And then, after much too long, you finally got to touch what was yours again.

[strangecreaturewrites]

hey! i just wanted to thank everyone who has followed me since i started posting fic for mickey 17. it makes me really happy to see some folks wanting to stick around <3 i should have the next part of i won't leave you up tomorrow, and i want to continue writing for mickey after that — that movie is currently the only thing on my mind, lol — but i plan on posting more twilight fic soon too. please feel free to send me a message me any time, i always appreciate feedback. i'm excited to see where this blog goes, so thanks again for being here !

[strangecreaturewrites]

⟢ i won't leave you ⊹⠀ ﾟ ˖

mickey x f!reader ⊹ as an expendable, it was mickey barnes' duty to die as many times as deemed necessary. this time, you were there with him. warnings: discussion of death and grief. please use your discretion before reading. ( i have part 2 to this in the works, i just can't finish it tonight because i'm watching the new daredevil ep in a bit. this fic idea wouldn't leave me alone though. i love hurt/comfort and angst, and this part definitely brings the hurt, so i won't leave you hanging on the comfort for very long. also mickey x nasha are the couple of all time, but i would have to see the movie again to write this from their perspective. i think the inspiration is pretty clear though, so i wouldn't read this if you haven't seen the movie or read the book yet. anyway... thank you for reading <3 )

You chose to spend the next day in bed. The concept of PTO didn’t exist on the station — claiming a sick day raised more alarms than they were worth if you weren’t gravely ill — but people didn’t make it a habit to argue with you. So, when you said they could find someone else to cover your shift or go fuck themselves… well, that was that, wasn’t it?

Another concept that didn’t exist on the station in a way that mattered: getting fired. A person could yell and scream at their superior and then show up for their next shift, and as long as Marshall didn’t deem them a threat (to him, to his optics, to his vision), business went on as usual. Your rations might get cut for a while, sure. You might get locked up for a bit if you got too dramatic. But what did that matter in the long run? It was all the same torture.

For some more than others on this frozen rock, work being a kind of torture actually meant something.

You choked on your next breath, and you turned your face into the pillow as tears welled up in your eyes once more.

The worst part was that they didn’t understand, and it was impossible to explain it in a way that made sense to them. Them being everyone. The lab workers, your superiors, Timo, everyone.

“You’re so upset, and for what?” Timo said to you in the cafeteria. What was the tail-end of last night for you was a brand new morning for him. “He’s being reprinted as we speak. In a few hours, we’ll have our boy back.”

You could’ve slapped him. Normally, you would have. It was a testament to the enormity of the pain coursing through you that you didn’t.

Our boy. What a load of shit.

“I held him as he died, you asshole,” you seethed. Timo scoffed and resumed eating, an awkward silence settling between the two of you. You knew the bastard wouldn’t apologize, and you wouldn’t say anything else about it.

To your credit, you held it together fairly well immediately afterward. You climbed out of the tank and took off the biohazard suit. You let the medics look you over until you snapped at them to back off — you were fine — and you pretended to listen to the lab workers as they explained how important their work was and how you’d be seeing Mickey again before you knew it. That bumbling lead scientist was at your heels from the tank all the way to the door; you told him to shut his fucking mouth as you left.

You were numb. To everyone else, it looked like anger. Inside, you were roiling. Reeling. Shocked.

From the very beginning, you forced yourself to make peace with Mickey’s position as an Expendable. You had to if you were going to be involved with him, romantically, sexually — honestly, in any way. He quickly became your best friend, your lover, your favorite person, and you had to accept that every so often, he would die. And over time, you really did manage to grow accustomed to this brand of strangeness. (Humans really were remarkably adaptable creatures.) Maybe because there had been a routine to it: he would get an assignment, kiss you goodbye, disappear for a handful of hours, and then he would be back, a little tired, very hungry, and looking to be held until the funk from the printer wore off.

This time was different. You were there. You looked into his eyes, and you weren’t sure if he saw you. You stroked his cheek, and you knew he couldn’t feel you; his skin was so red and raw, how could his brain process any sensation besides pain? You talked to him the whole time, told him that you were there, that you wouldn’t leave him, that it would be over soon.

‘Soon’ ended up being a relative term, and though you knew him better, part of you worried he would remember your reassurances as cruel nonsense, spoken by someone who had no idea…

That’s what all the experiments were: cruel nonsense.

Your shock, your numbness, melted into incredulity.

You held him as he died. He stopped moving. Stopped breathing. How did a person cope with witnessing that?

For everyone else, the death of their loved ones was permanent. They mourned, and eventually their lives grew around the grief. You wouldn’t have grief. You would have terror. Would you be there to hold him when he died again? How could you possibly handle it? Leaving wouldn’t be an option, even knowing what you knew now. But what would it do to you, the second time around? The third?

The answers didn’t matter right now. You were in the interim between the last Mickey and the next one. Even being as perturbed as you were, you could recognize your good fortune. How lucky you were, to only be alone for a handful of hours, to know you would touch him again in less than a day.

Exhaustion seeped into your bones, and discomfort set in as you noticed the sensation of the cold, tear-soaked pillowcase against your temple, your cheek. You got out of bed, ran some water, and wiped your face clean. You dried your skin, brushed your teeth, and stripped to your underwear.

The last thing you remembered doing was flipping the pillow to the dry side. You didn’t even remember laying back down.

As the saying goes, you slept like the dead.

✧ part two ‧ ₊ ˚ .

[strangecreaturewrites]

⟢ mickey barnes x f!reader ⊹ The sounds of kissing and heavy breathing broke up the silence of the dark room. The station was always a bit too cold, but in this bed, wrapped in your lover’s arms, you felt warm. Truly content. This was your favorite part of the day. The best part. i saw the movie on friday, i am weak for this strange man ! nsfw/mdni ---- warnings: subby mickey, praise kink, rough oral sex (f receiving)

The sounds of kissing and heavy breathing broke up the silence of the dark room. The station was always a bit too cold, but in this bed, wrapped in your lover’s arms, you felt warm. Truly content.

This was your favorite part of the day. The best part. Confined to such close quarters with the people you worked with, ate with, lived with, it was enough to drive anyone crazy. This little room, with this man you adored, was the only place you could let your guard down, where you could truly relax.

You pressed Mickey into the mattress, partway on top of him. One hand resting at the base of his throat, the other smoothing its way over his chest, his stomach, lower.

When you slipped your hand into his underwear and cupped his growing erection, he smiled into the kiss, humming happily.

“I love you so much,” he mumbled against your mouth, and you dived back in, lapping his tongue with yours. He moaned and held you tighter, his fingertips pressing into your back.

No matter how many times you had him, it would never be enough. He was too sweet, sweeter than any lover you’d had before, and he was entirely devoted to your happiness, your pleasure. It wasn’t lost on you how lucky you were. In fact, you were a little smug about it. But in these moments, you always made sure to give him as much attention and care as he gave you.

Like now. You wrapped your hand around his cock and ran your thumb over the head, back and forth, touching him slowly. You listened to his hitched breaths and quiet whines as his erection continued to harden and twitch. His lips moved quicker, more urgently against yours, though you didn’t pick up your pace, working the head of his cock with your fingers, your palm. His hips jerked a bit, but he didn’t try to take more than what you gave him.

With a gentle smack, you broke the kiss and asked him, “Does that feel good, baby?”

It’s too dark to see him well, but the rustle of the pillowcase and the movement of the pillow against your cheek told you he was nodding. It was such a delicious, powerful feeling, working him up like this by, honestly, doing very little.

Clumsily, Mickey brought his hands down to shove off his underwear, and you paused your ministrations to let him take off yours. When your panties get hung up on your ankles for a moment, he grumbled as he freed you, and you were so in love you had to laugh. After a second, he chuckled a bit, too.

“Always gotta mess somethin’ up, right?” he scoffed, tossing your panties somewhere off the bed.

You leaned up on your elbow, reaching out carefully with your free hand until you found his face, cupped his jaw, turned his head back toward you.

“None of that,” you said. You didn’t like it when he got all self-depreciating. “Get back over here.”

He obeyed your command, falling onto you as if pulled by gravity. His hands caressed your body as you two resumed kissing, kneading your breasts, squeezing your waist, parting your thighs. You moaned, not only because it felt good, but because his confidence always grew when you vocalized your pleasure. And just like that, his lips began to travel down your neck, your chest, your stomach. His hot, labored breath sent goosebumps over your body.

“You’re so good, Mickey,” you sighed, threading your fingers through his hair. “So, so good to me.”

He shivered and groaned against your skin. His teeth scraped lightly against your inner thigh, so close to where you wanted him most. He hadn’t said it in so many words, but you could tell that he enjoyed going down on you as much as you enjoyed him doing it. You only wished you could see his eyes right now, so gorgeous, so blue. When his tongue made the first delicate contact with your swollen, soaked clit, you could perfectly picture the way his eyelids fluttered closed, and just the mental image spiked electricity through your veins. You tilted your head back with a keening moan, gripping the sheets with the hand not tangled in his hair.

“That’s it, baby,” you panted as he settled his mouth on your pussy, licking and sucking your clit in earnest. “You always give me what I need.”

His arms were wrapped under your thighs, his hands traveling jerkily from your stomach to your breasts and back again, as if he can’t settle down. You felt his shoulders against the underside of your thighs and realized, though his mouth and tongue were working you over with confidence, he was shivering, shuddering. Desperate.

Heat poured through your stomach, your chest, and suddenly you felt restless, overcome by your desire. You tightened your fingers in his hair, and said, “I want a bit more, okay? Is that alright?”

After all the love you two have made, Mickey knew exactly what you meant by that. With a whine, he held beautifully still, his hands settling on the tops of your thighs, as you began thrusting your hips, rubbing yourself against his mouth, his tongue, his chin. You started with long, slow strokes, warming both of you up to the feeling, the movement, until you were humping his face roughly.

You were mindful each time you did this, would be horrified if you hurt him, but if he’d ever felt uncomfortable, he never told you about it. Not even when you directly asked. And though you hadn’t discovered anything he wouldn’t do for you, particularly in bed, you also knew him well enough to know that he would tell you if you crossed the line. All of that to mean… he must just like it.

You unclenched your fist on the sheet and reached down to hold his face, your palm brushing his cheek, your fingertips curling under his jaw. Again, you wished you could see his eyes right now.

“Look at me,” you told him anyway, knowing full well it made no sense.

Another broken, wobbly whine escaped his throat. You could tell he was moving around a bit on the bed, and one of his hands disappeared from your leg. Soon, the quick, wet sound of him jerking his cock joined the rustle and groan of the bed beneath your thrusting hips, and your jaw dropped open as you felt an orgasm descend upon you.

You lost your control, your rhythm, as you mashed your pussy against his face. You slammed your eyes shut and saw faint flashing lights as you came with a gasp.

When your grip on him loosened and you sank back into the bed, he kissed you, your clit, your stomach, your legs. You floated for a while, biting your lip against a wide smile. How was it always this good?

Soon, Mickey crawled up from between your legs. You were both overheated, sweating, a little breathless, and it added to the perfectly blissful feeling settling over you. He kissed you — his lips felt warm, well-worn, and you couldn’t keep from smiling then — and then laid down next to you on his stomach.

“Hey,” you said, nudging his hip, trying to turn him over. “Your turn?”

“Ah, no,” he rasped. He cleared his throat, then continued, “That train has already left the station, I’m afraid.”

You hummed thoughtfully, pressing a kiss to his warm cheek. Your lips brushed his ear.

“Round two?”

His arm curled around your waist. “You know it.”

And you got lost in each other once again.

( I want to live life through Nasha’s POV, she’s a badass and she has the most precious lover boy wrapped around her finger. ) ---- divider by enchanthings ⊹⠀ ﾟ ˖

[strangecreaturewrites]

𝐞𝐚𝐬𝐞 𝐦𝐲 𝐦𝐢𝐧𝐝

“ all you need to think about... is this. ”

edythe x bella ⊹ bella worries about the run over to the baseball game. edythe distracts her. twilight + life & death au | rated t | 1.4k wc warnings: kissing

note: the italicized text is from twilight, pp. 293-297. the text that is bold and italicized is from life and death, pp. 281-285. everything else is my spin on both of those passages. i love both of these passages so much on their own, so changing elements of them hurt my heart. but i hope i do an alright job at blending them. divider by cafekitsune.

Read on AO3

“Sorry, Bella. We have to go on foot from here.”

“You know what? I’ll just wait here.”

“What happened to all your courage? You were extraordinary this morning.”

“I haven’t forgotten the last time yet.” Could it have only been yesterday?

She was around to my side of the car in a blur, and she started on the harness.

“I’ll get those, you go on ahead,” I protested. She was finished before I got the first few words out.

I sat in the car, looking at her.

“And here I thought you weren’t scared of me,” Edythe said. Her lips turned downward in a wounded pout. I didn’t believe her for a second.

“I’m not scared, especially of you. I’m just…” I trailed off, trying to come up with a convincing enough word. When she tilted her head, her gaze becoming sharper, more penetrating, I just said the first thing that came to mind. “Y’know… worried.”

“Worried?” she repeated. Her voice was full of insincere confusion. “What is there to worry about?”

It was a ridiculous question, one that I wouldn’t dignify with a response. She knew just as well as I did how poorly my body handled her supernatural speed. The last thing I wanted to do was faint in front of her family. Or worse, throw up.

I looked at her, and she looked at me, a staring contest for the ages. Then, I blinked and she was in the Jeep with me, taking up my entire field of view. She perched on my lap, her knees on either side of my hips, her hands resting lightly on my shoulders. Her wild bronze hair framed her perfect face, and I was struck again by her incredible beauty.

I choked on a gasp, my hands skittering up to rest on the outsides of her thighs.

“Breathe,” she ordered.

I shakily inhaled, then let it go. She smiled, nudging my nose with hers.

“I have an idea,” she said. “Let me give you something to ease your mind a little bit, okay?”

“Okay,” I replied automatically. My eyes sank closed.

Her lips brushed mine in a delicate, barely-there kiss. Then another, and another. Her hands slid up my neck to cradle my face.

Every nerve in my body was alight. Would I ever get used to this feeling when we kissed? Part of me hoped it would always feel this way.

“Breathe, Bella,” she whispered.

When I did, my head swam with her sweet, intoxicating scent. I became pliant in her hands, and she gently tilted my head back, exposing my neck. She pressed a heavy kiss to the fluttering pulse point just underneath my jaw. I heard her inhale deeply as she lingered there.

“You didn’t answer me before,” she murmured against my skin. “Why are you worried?”

“Motion sickness. And…” She pressed a kiss the hinge of my jaw. I rasped a quick breath. “Um… trees?”

She hummed. “Silly Bella. I would never let a tree hurt you.”

Her lips ghosted over my temple. Her breath tickled my ear.

“Still worried?” she asked, nuzzling my cheek with hers.

“Hm?” I couldn’t begin to remember any of my arguments. Couldn't even remember what I was arguing in the first place.

She giggled, nipping my earlobe softly. “You see? It will all be okay.” She turns my face toward hers, and our lips brushed as she said, “All you need to think about… is this.”

And then we were locked in a passionate kiss, her mouth opening over mine. My body flooded with a pleasure more intense than I’d ever experienced, and I reacted. I gasped, moaning shakily as I pulled her sweet breath into my lungs. My arms curled around her body as I surged forward, molding as much of myself to her stony figure as I could while she was still straddling me. Time and place fell away, became meaningless in the enormity of my desire. I forgot about everything. Including caution.

She growled as she ripped herself away from me, leaping out of the Jeep in a blur.

I melted into the seat, working to catch my breath. My heart pounded so hard it felt as if my whole body throbbed with it.

“Dammit, Bella!” Edythe snapped. She was pacing a few feet away. “This is impossible!”

I watched her gather her hair and roughly pull it back into a low ponytail.

“You will be the death of me, you know that?” she said, cutting me a fierce look.

I flinched. “Speaking of impossible things…”

“Maybe at one time it wasn’t possible,” she mumbled, shaking her head. Then she sighed and stopped her pacing. “I'm not so sure anymore.”

She turned around and looked at me. I looked at her.

After a minute, a grin settled onto her face, devoid of that flash of anger from just moments ago. She waved me over with an air of expectation.

“Well? C’mon. We haven’t got all evening.”

I crossed my arms, and I didn’t move an inch.

“I thought you wanted to watch us play,” she added when I said nothing.

I only stared at her, trying harder than ever to keep a blank, neutral expression. It was difficult, not being swayed by the power of her eyes, but I managed.

“Bel-la,” she sing-songed. She sauntered back to the Jeep, her arms swinging at her sides. “You’re being ridiculous.”

“So, let me get this straight: I’m impossible, ridiculous, and I’m going to kill you. Nice.”

She froze, her playfulness melting away in another swift emotional about-face. “Are you mad at me?”

“You were mad at me first!” I fired back, throwing my hands up.

“When was I mad at you?”

“Just now. ‘You will be the death of me’? What else is that supposed to mean, Edythe?”

She seemed to think about it for a moment, a furrow settling between her brows. Slowly, she closed the gap between us. Her hand glided over my thigh as she leaned partway into the vehicle.

“I’m sorry. Truly. I meant what I said, but-” When my mouth dropped open to argue, Edythe pressed a finger to my mouth. She chuckled. “Shh. Listen. I meant what I said, but I wasn’t angry at you. I’m never angry at you. How could I be? I have only ever gotten angry at myself.”

“Why?” I asked. I rested my hand over hers until she moved it away from my mouth.

Her smile turned grim. “Isn’t it obvious? No matter how hard I try, I just can’t seem to keep you out of danger, especially from myself. I keep putting you in harm’s way, all because of my remarkable lack of self-control. It’s pathetic, really, and there is no excuse for it. If I had any decency left in me, I would just go-”

“Stop,” I said softly. I held her hand in both of mine, my thumb rubbing her marble-smooth wrist. “Don’t beat yourself up about this. Clearly, I lack some self-control, too”

Her smile grew slightly, became marginally brighter. “I suppose that’s true.”

She placed her free hand on my forearm, her fingertips leaving tingling trails as they glided over my skin. It seemed like she meant it as a reassuring gesture, but it only served to stoke the embers from before. I shivered as I watched her touch me.

Then, the hand in my grasp slipped away and closed around my other forearm, and just like that, Edythe pulled me out of the car. She closed the door, locked it, and then slipped her arms around my waist.

She leaned her forehead against mine.

“I love you,” she said. “It’s a poor excuse for what I’m doing, but it’s still true.”

It was the first time she’d ever said she loved me—in so many words. Like she’d said this morning, it was different, hearing the words out loud.

“I love you,” I told her. “I don’t want you to be anything other than what you are.”

She hummed happily. “Now, be a good girl,” she said as she tilted her head.

I held very still while she brushed her lips softly against mine.

We stared at each other for a minute.

“Baseball?” she asked.

“Baseball,” I agreed.

Once again, I was on her back, bracing myself better this time for her break-neck speed. Edythe brought my hand to her face, pressing a kiss to my wrist. And then, we were off.

[strangecreaturewrites]

𝐢𝐧 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐬𝐭𝐚𝐜𝐤𝐬

“ meeting like this is better in my opinion. don't you think? ”

bella x f!reader ⊹ you are working at the library for the summer, and your favorite patron stops in, looking for a specific book. fluff | rated g | 1.7k wc no warnings

note: i've only worked in bookstores before, not libraries, so please forgive me if something about this is wrong. also gonna take this opportunity to tell you to support your local library. takes place during the summer before bella moves to forks. based on march prompt #21: a faded library card. divider by cafekitsune.

The library’s A/C is fighting the Arizona heat, and losing. You fan yourself with a few brochures from the plastic holder on your desk; a quick glance lets you know they’re advertising the community theater's summer youth program. Adorable.

It’s two in the afternoon, which means that the library is basically a ghost town. Your middle-aged coworker went on lunch about an hour ago, but time and experience have taught you that she will extend her break for another hour. You've never cared to argue with her about it, and you’ve never brought it up to your supervisor; she has worked here longer than you’ve been alive, and this job is just a way to kill time before the school year starts. It’s not like you’ve ever been overwhelmed on the clock by yourself.

You’re just about to lean back in your chair and close your eyes for a bit when you glance out the window into the parking lot and spot her. Your favorite patron, the faithful regular who always makes your day brighter. The first time you saw her, she left you speechless. Instead of asking for her name, you'd looked at the signature on her well-loved library card. Her name is Bella Swan, and she is the prettiest girl you’ve ever seen.

She’s walking slowly toward the door, distracted as she digs through her tote bag for the books she needs to return. In no time, she would be right here at your desk, smiling her shy little smile and speaking to you in that soft, warm tone.

You launch forward in your seat, tossing the brochures aside and hastily grabbing the compact mirror from your coworker’s side of the desk to check how you look. Your forehead shines with sweat, and all the anti-frizz product in your hair has melted away. Just wonderful.

Bella steps inside just as you’ve finished blotting the moisture from your face, covertly throwing the tissue away in the bin by your feet. You take a moment to look her over before she makes eye contact with you. Today, she’s wearing a pale yellow camisole and a pair of light-washed denim shorts. Her hair is pulled back into a loose bun at the nape of her neck.

When her warm brown eyes meet yours, you can’t stop the wide smile that spreads across your face. Your heart flutters when she smiles back, looking just as happy to see you.

“Hey, girl,” you say as she walks up. “Ready for some more books?”

Her smile turns more shy as she nods, handing you her returns. “I’m here pretty often, aren’t I?”

“You don’t hear me complaining,” you reply, dropping your voice a little lower to match her volume. You always forget to mind how loudly you’re talking, earning stern stares and harsh shhh’s from your coworker many times throughout the day. Bella would be much better suited for your position than you are, and you often toy with the idea of convincing her to apply. How nice would it be to see her every day, all summer long?

You drop the books into the return bin, and ask, “So… do you need help finding anything?”

Usually, this is the part where she shakes her head and walks off into the stacks, silently perusing for an hour or so until she checks out her selections and leaves. She’s so quiet, and she is very independent compared to other patrons, so all of your conversations with her have been surface-level and short.

Today, though, she surprises you.

“Yeah, actually,” she says. Your desk has a raised ledge on the patron’s side, and her hands rest there, her fingers twisting and untwisting together idly. You notice her rings, glinting in the sun pouring in from the skylight. “I couldn’t find Middlemarch when I was here last week. I checked the database and it said this branch has a copy, but when I looked, it wasn’t there.”

You frown, then search the book on your own computer. Sure enough, it says there is one copy available.

“I don’t think I’ve ever even seen this edition before,” you say. You give the picture of the cover a hard look, embedding it into your memory, before you stand up. “Let’s look together.”

“You don’t have to get up,” she says quickly, her brows shooting up her forehead.

You wave your hands out before you, gesturing at the empty room. “Because I’m so busy?”

Her cheeks turn a pretty shade of pink, and she mumbles a thank you as she follows you into the stacks. You feel her presence behind you, and you want to shiver out of your skin with excitement.

It isn’t long before you’re both standing in front of the classics section, tucked away in the back corner. The two of you look over the spines of the books, and a cursory glance tells you the book isn’t there. You set your eyes to start again on the top shelf, intending on combing through the titles at a slower pace, but Bella is so close to you that you are instantly distracted. You shift on your feet, bringing you just a bit closer, enough to feel the warmth of her skin so near your own. You’re grateful then that your supervisor allows you to wear short-sleeved T-shirts, even though they technically violate the dress code.

“You go to Paradise Valley, right?” Bella asks, her voice a respectful murmur.

“Yeah, I’ll be a junior this year,” you reply. “Is that where you go? I haven’t seen you around.”

Out of the corner of your eye, you see Bella nod, and when you look at her, yours eyes meet. The light flush is back as she tilts her head. “I’ve seen you.”

Your mouth drops open. “Oh yeah?”

She nods, her teeth worrying her bottom lip. It draws your gaze downward, and you have to work to keep from staring at her mouth.

“Interesting…” you say, dragging out the last syllable. When you notice Bella’s eyes dart down to your lips, you smile, your tongue pressed behind your front teeth. Maybe you’re not the only distractible one. “And you’ve never said hello?”

“Well, I- um-” She cuts herself off and turns back to the shelf, her blush spreading down her neck. She adjusts her tote bag on her shoulder, fiddling with the straps. “You’re usually with your friends, and I try not to be, y’know… noticed.”

“Really? Why?”

She shrugs. “I like to blend in with the crowd.”

“I see,” you say. She continues staring at the books, and though she has a pretty profile, you want to see her full face again. You nudge her shoulder with yours, and she turns her head. “Meeting like this is better in my opinion. Don’t you think?”

“Totally,” she replies. She opens her mouth to say something else, but she stops when something over your shoulder catches her eye. “Oh! There it is.”

She reaches past you, her arm lightly brushing yours, sending tingles through that whole side of your body, and grabs the misplaced copy of Middlemarch from the sci-fi shelf. You’re hit with the scent of her, sunscreen but also something delicate and floral from her shampoo or perfume or something, and you wonder how she could still smell so good even in this brutal heat. It’s like she’s from a different, more perfect world.

“Thank you for helping me,” she says, tucking the thick book into the crook of her arm, pressed to her body. The two of you are still standing closer than you need to be, and part of you is disappointed that your little mission is already over, if only because you don’t know when you’ll get to be this close to her again.

“Of course. Even though I didn’t help too much.”

She scrunches her nose a little. “You didn’t, did you?”

“My bad,” you chuckle. “Let me know if you need anything else, though.” When she raises an eyebrow, you add, drawing out the first word, “Anything at all. I am at your full disposal.”

She blushes again, tucking her chin down to turn her face away a bit. You know you should lay off on the flirting — you could get in trouble, and more importantly, the last thing you want to do is run Bella off and never see her here again — but the crush you’ve been tending to in your daydreams is growing beyond its bounds and burning you from the inside out. Your heart is racing past your head, just from the thrill of being near her in a new way.

“Well…” she begins, then pauses to quietly clear her throat. She’s tapping her fingers on book cover, as if she’s nervous. When she speaks again, her voice is even lower than before, and you have to lean in to hear her. “I could use some company this weekend. There’s a movie coming out that I’d like to catch. If you want to go. Just you and me.”

You blink at her, your brows shooting up into your hairline. “Really?”

Her eyes narrow as a mystified expression takes over her face. “You’re really going to flirt with me that much, and then act surprised when I ask you on a date?”

You let out a laugh, louder than you should, causing Bella to whip her head around, checking for anyone close by who might be disturbed by the sound. But nothing has changed — there is no one in the world but you and her.

“Well, when you put it like that, it does sound pretty silly. I just didn't realize you liked me too.”

Bella bites her lip again, and you don’t stop your gaze from drifting down this time. A whole world of possibility has opened up, and you are more than eager to discover it as soon as possible.

“How about you help me check out this book, and I’ll write down my number for you, okay?” she says, stepping away to head toward the front desk.

A thousand responses flip through your mind, from corny (“oh, I’ll check you out alright”) to sincere (“I would love to”) and everything in between. But her deep brown eyes and her perfect face and her soft, full smile and her low, lovely voice — like that first day, all of it has left you speechless. So, you just nod and smile and lead the way.