#it's fun to be thinking around them anyway

[megapteraurelia]

roommates!osasuna who kiss you in turns on the couch: osamu's lips are slow and alluring, full of intent. suna's kisses are deeper, lazier, like he's savouring every second. you lose track of who kisses you next, whose fingers are slipping under your shirt, whose palm is pressing low against your back.

you're drunk on the attention, drunk on the warm, lingering touches, drunk on their love.

roommates!osasuna who always forget a towel when showering. you all do. half the time there's a naked sunarin yelling across the apartment and osamu throwing a towel at him, before leaning against the door frame to watch.

"ya look like you need help."

"i'm good."

"don't think so. move."

roommates!osasuna who love praising you but in different ways. osamu is all soft and coaxing, always starting slow, voice a deep murmur like velvet. you're sprawled between them, your knees spread wide across osamu's lap, head tipped back against suna's shoulder.

when you arch against his grip, osamu cups your face, tenderly, "there she is. my good girl. takin' us so well, sweetheart."

and when he kisses your chest, the valley between them, your stomach and down, he murmurs between each one, "so gorgeous when ya fall apart f'me. every single time."

his words make you feel like you're adored, like you're owned, like he's there to guide you and catch you on a cloud.

suna, though.

now suna's voice is sharp, edged with filth. like he wants you to feel embarrassment and shame amplified with the arousal between your thighs. osamu's mouthing at your skin, his warm big hands roaming your body, his cock a slow heave into you, but suna's hands are cruel and fast the way they played with your clit without remorse, ignoring your jerking hips.

"dripping and messy. imagine somebody saw you like this, they'd think you were some desperate little slut."

"rin," osamu would cut in, a warning in his voice, but the way his cock throbs inside you and his hips jerk involuntarily makes you think that he likes suna's nasty comments just as much.

suna's nothing but sharp-eyed, a cruel slow curl of a smile on his face, "look at you, all serious like you're not two seconds away from busting right inside her."

he doesn't stop the attack on your swollen nub, but they stutter once when a shadow flits over you. mouth open, drooling, ears hot, your eyes barely recognise the shape of osamu's arm above you, his hand grabbing suna's neck, fingers wrapped around his throat. his thumb presses under his jaw just enough to tilt his face up.

he holds suna rintaro like he is on a leash.

"ye talk a lot for someone i could fold in half right now."

roommates!osasuna who both reach for you at the same time without looking. it happens so often now that you don't even think about it; when there's two hands on your waist, or your shoulders, on your thighs, warm and grounding, it feels like love doubled. sometimes they bump heads reaching for a kiss, and you take care to kiss each of them with intention.

roommates!osasuna who declares the kitchen to be a suna-and-you-free zone. suna sneaks in to hug osamu anyway, fingers quick and sneaky in stealing a bite off the cutting board. he tries to bring enough so you both can share outside osamu's reach, but osamu's quick, hand already shooting out to grasp suna's wrist.

"off."

roommates!osasuna who regularly team up to ambush you.

you're just trying to grab some water, really, it's nothing crazy, you're not doing anything. yet suddenly, suna's behind you, his hands at your waist, whispering something filthy in your ear.

you turn around to escape one of them and run right into osamu's chest. he doesn't budge, wide and steady, only takes your chin between fingers and slightly shakes it, "what's got ye so flustered, hm?"

roommates!osasuna who have been bickering all day. it's just the usual back-and-forth, forgettable and fun, except this time, when osamu's in the kitchen, wiping his hands from the snacks he insists on making for you two, who are lazing around on the couch and in all honesty, probably didn't deserve being spoiled like that.

osamu's eyebrows are furrowed as he works in concentration, calm and in this particular work flow that he always falls into when he gives his entire attention and his all. which is why suna looks really fucking bored.

watching osamu move, his shoulders broad, teeth pressed together (probably not really healthy for his jaw), and the effortless way he handles himself in the kitchen, he really can't help it.

he mutters, just loud enough for his voice to be carried over to osamu, but still directed at you, "you know, baby, for a guy with all those muscles, he's awfully soft, no?"

osamu doesn't even pause, just dries his fingers off with a dish towel, so suna continues, his nose brushing your throat which you acknowledge with an eye roll because you know exactly where this is going, "bet you hold him down more than he does with you. look at him, he's probably blushing already."

this time, he does turn at that, a slow and deliberate movement; no blush on his face in sight, but when he's approaching you two and you register the look in his eyes, it has your stomach flip nervously and suna's eyebrows raise.

"ya got a short memory, rin," he says, really soft and really amused. one hand of his brushes the hair out of suna's face, tucks the slightly longer strands behind his ear, fingers trailing back to then grasp a handful of his hair to tug.

"wanna say somethin' smart again?"

suna grins, because he's an asshole. because he enjoys the feel of osamu's grip tightening on his hair, "please. like you could ever hold me down."

there's a shift in the room, the way osamu's breath draws in through his nose. the subtle flex of his fingers on the back of suna's head. the way osamu's body suddenly feels bigger, closer, meaner.

he tugs, hard, away from the couch, so suna really doesn't have any choice but to follow, but to be pushed against the floor on his back, shirt askew, cheeks flushing already despite the mischievous glint in his eyes. osamu's one hand is quick to wrap tightly around both of suna's wrists, his hips suddenly grinding down slow and hard.

his other hand presses down on suna's abdomen, and rin can't help the instinctive jerking of his muscles at the touch, not when it's combined with the heavy weight of osamu's, feeling his breath caress his ears, caged by the man, who slowly works him open — hands, mouth, teeth.

a bruising kiss, claiming suna's mouth with his own, osamu's tongue slides in deep as his hips roll once, twice, just enough to pull a sound out of the black-haired menace, one that isn't a word at all, but a strangled moan.

and when he tugs on his wrists, osamu tightens his grip.

"ya like seein' him like this, don'tcha, sweetheart?"

transfixed with the display of suna rutting against osamu like he's searching for any friction at all, what else could you do other than nod, your throat dry?

"he's so pretty when he stops pretending he's in control," osamu muses, half a growl in his tone, and suna groans, a slight hint of embarrassment, a whole lot of arousal. he glares at osamu, he tries, but he's panting, his pupils blown wide, hips moving of their own accord.

osamu's head dips again, lips brushing suna's jaw, leaving a mark on his skin, "think we should show her what yer sound like when you cum beggin'?"

"you're," he breathes out, eyes glazing, "fuckin' sick."

"say that with yer mouth full, pretty boy."

suna opens his mouth to retort, but osamu cuts him off with a sharp grind of his hips, pressing hard right against the bulge in suna's pants. there was a slight gasp, his breath catching, thighs shaking ever so slightly.

"fuck—"

"no talkin' now," osamu mutters, "not until i tell ya to."

and he does keep going, fingers trailing up to bury themselves into suna's mouth, pressing down on his tongue, whilst there was slow pressure on suna's cock, the drag of heavy friction having him squirming and twitching beneath him, trying to get more without asking. because suna's pride is too damn annoying.

until osamu stills, with weight on his hips, with the pressure around his wrists, with his fingers slowly pulling out of his mouth, gripping suna's jaw, fingertips digging into his cheeks.

"ya want more? beg."

suna's eyes narrow, his voice hoarse from osamu, "you're gonna make me—"

squeezing his face, osamu cuts him off again, "didn't ask for yer commentary. said beg."

your knees are pulled to your chest, one hand pressed between your thighs, the pulsing strong. god, they look so good like this, suna all flushed and restless, osamu on top, muscles bulging at holding him down. your fingers slip into your panties and it's no surprise at how wet you find yourself, how swollen your clit, how easily your fingers dip into your heat.

osamu's eyes flick towards you when a slight moan escapes you, and he drinks you in, a promise in his eyes that has your thighs press together, caging your hand in.

"last chance, rin," he says, but his gaze is still heavy on yours.

for a second there's silence, suna's chest rising and falling fast, his pride warring with his need, with his cock searching fulfilment, with his flushed face between osamu's unyielding grip.

his mouth parts, and the word is just a mutter, raw, "please."

osamu finally looks back, but he doesn't move, still.

"dunno if i heard ya right, say it louder f'me."

"please," suna struggles against osamu's grip, back arching to get him to move, to continue pleasuring him, to do something. his voice was rough, wrecked, "touch me. fuck me. whatever the hell you want."

looking down, suna's lips are swollen, a blush settled on his face, his hair clinging to his forehead, damp, chest expanding and falling deeply, heavily, but oh, his eyes — so glazed, so needy, like he's ready to take anything osamu gives him.

then osamu looks at you: your parted lips, the movement of your hand in your pants, the little breathless moans falling from your mouth, and it all just slots itself together so easily in his brain.

"look at 'er," osamu murmurs low, rising from where he was sprawled out on suna, "sittin' there bein' so good."

there's confusion etched on suna's face, in his eyebrows that furrow, in the way his mouth twists into a grimace at the loss of touch, but when his gaze reluctantly settles on you, his expression shifts, ever so slightly, a desire hard in his eyes, wanting, torn — he swallows.

"be good for once, rin," osamu's foot presses down onto suna's clothed dick once, enough for a strangled ahh to escape him, before he nods over to you, his voice almost kind, "go take care of her."

suna's jaw tightens, his eyes wandering over to osamu, at the promise that he was dangling in front of him like he was a horse getting played with a carrot; his pride twitches and he stares up at osamu staring down, the raised eyebrows that ask him whether he really wanted to challenge him.

"you serious?"

"dead. get on yer knees."

suna's hands are rough when they push apart your thighs, when he sinks to the floor in front of you, fingers impatient to tug down your pants, his voice annoyed, eyes settled on you and you grow slicker underneath his heady gaze, "are you going to fuck me if i make her cum?"

osamu sits back behind him, on the couch table, arms folded, "depends on how well ya do."

suna's mouth latches on to your cunt with no moment wasted, and osamu's voice cuts through your moans and whines, sometimes giving soft instructions that suna follows with a reluctant edge to it, even though his cock rubs against the couch, heat pooling low in his groin at osamu's praise. his jaw suckles, tongue lapping up your juices, fingers pressing your legs apart wider and wider until there was a deliciously painful stretch in your hips.

suna eats you out like he'll die if he won't. spitting on your pussy, his fingers slap away yours, curling deep within you, your gummy walls sucking him in so easily until you came with a start, back arching.

and osamu can only hold out so long at the sight of his two favourite people, despite his words, despite his plan to make suna regret acting up. so it's only natural that his fingers find suna's flesh to dig in, his voice low and strained, telling sunarin to collect your wetness to lather his cock with so he can bury himself into him.

getting his mouth fucked into your pussy, suna thinks he's got to do it more often.

roommates!osasuna who relish in the full feeling swinging in the air, in the scent of sweat and sex and satisfaction; a comfortable, golden moment of silence, soaked with warmth. it lingers underneath your skin, propels your heart to beat soundly.

suna's slumped on the floor between your thighs, lips slick and swollen, hair mussed, blinking slowly. his smirk is long gone, cheek resting against your leg, wet fingers on your knee like he doesn't want to stop touching you just yet.

osamu's shirt is half off, his collarbone dusted in sweat, a flush to his face creeping up his neck; there's a cut on his lip — bitten red and bloody; his hands roam suna's body, calloused fingertips brushing circles into his skin.

"can't feel my jaw," suna speaks into your thigh, his voice hoarse, and there's a tired blink to his eyes.

behind him, osamu hums, slow and unbothered, "good."

you laugh, breathless, choked, and your fingers card through suna's sweaty strands of hair, nails scratching his scalp, "you did well, babe."

leaning over suna's pliant self, osamu kisses your shoulder, then your neck, his finger reaching down to tug suna's earring gently. voice quieter, almost tender, "c'mon, shower or bed?"

a grumble, "bed. you carrying me?"

"ya wish."

"fuckass."

1 | 2 | 3

TAGLIST | @reignpage (i'm sorry for the ping, reign, i'm just!!! i cannot get them outta my head!!!); @sodaneko (YOUR FAULT HATE HATE HATE /pos) ; @takes1 ; @classicalelephant ; @pomigranit ; @sugacor3 ; @boktuoafterdark

[scoobywrites690]

Simon and his favourite cam girl

cw: cam girl, fake cock, penetration, male masturbation (This ones kinda long but I'm thinking of doing a part two where Simon is actually present for one of the lives and she fucks him instead of a toy, what do you guys think of that?)

Simon's favourite time of day is when he finally clocks off from his shift and he gets to go home in time for your evening live. Propped up in bed with his cock already chubbed up in his jeans at the sight of your pretty little face filling up his laptop screen, as you sit there in the matching pink lace set Simon had sent to your P.O box recently.

“There’s my favourite viewer.” You sing-song down the microphone with the biggest, brightest smile on your face at the sight of Simon’s account joining the live. Simon can't help but smile a little at the way your demeanor changes when you realise he’s joined, it makes Simon feel as if there's a form of connection between the two of you.

Simon’s quick to send a message into the chat at your acknowledgement of his presence.

“Well don't you look cute, luvie. I’m glad it fits you properly<3” 

Simon discovered your account when you were just starting out, barely getting over 50 viewers per live, but Simon joined every single one. Sending tips to support you, typing messages into your live chat throughout the whole session, and when you opened your P.O box Simon would spoil you with gifts every time he received his paycheck, earning him a private message containing a cute little thank you ending with a heart every time. 

“It fits perfectly, thank you.” You giggle, giving the camera a little spin making sure to wiggle your ass slightly to show off how well the lace hugs you before facing the front again.

 “Anyway, anyway enough messing around.” You chuckle whilst waving your hands, as if brushing away the previous events. “I have a fun new toy for us to try out together.” You say with a smirk on your face as you quickly go off camera, to then reappear with what looks to be a form of silicone cock. 

“One of you guys sent me this, and it’s absolutely massive. Look at it.” You remark, as you hold the fake cock up to your face as a comparison. It was massive, bigger than anything Simon’s ever seen you use. But in all honesty from where Simon is sitting it’s not much bigger than his actual dick, that’s currently rock hard and straining against the denim of his jeans as he waits for the real show to begin. 

“But we’re gonna give it a go, you’ll just have to be patient as this is much bigger than what I'm used to, okay everyone are we ready?” You exclaim, batting your eyelashes at the camera before giving them your signature smile. The live chat is soon spilling in new messages every second, of everyone expressing their excitement towards today's toy.

Simon’s quick to release his cock from the confinements of his jeans allowing it to spring free and slap against his stomach. His tip is red and throbbing as it leaks with pearls of pre cum twitching in anticipation, as he watches you spit in your palm to start working it onto the fake cock. Laying down onto your back you pull the pretty pink panties to the side allowing the camera to get a clear view of your soaked core, before aligning the fake cock up with your sopping entrance.

“Here we go.” You exclaim, giving the camera one last smile before attempting to push the cock inside of you. It barely moves, with only the tip disappearing inside of you before it won’t go any more. So you start working the tip in and out your tight little entrance coating the silicone in your arousal. And ever so slowly, inch by inch more of the fake cock disappears inside of you until you reach the flared base. 

“Ta-da! We got there in the end.” You giggle, as you work the cock in and out of your tight wet pussy. The sight of you fucking yourself has Simon fisting his poor cock wishing it was him stuffing you full, as he pumps his cock. 

The lewd sounds of you pussy pulling the fake cock back inside of you fills the room as you ram it deep with every thrust. Your gasps and moans filter out through the laptop speakers, as Simon fists his fat cock. The sound of your sweet sweet noises has him cursing under his breath as he leaks fat glops of pre cum over and over again.

“Oh..fuck, you guys. I’m so fucking full right now.” You moan, your chest panting and you try to catch your breath. 

“God! I’m not gonna last much longer, guys.” You say, pumping the cock in and out of yourself. 

“Fuck!” You exclaim, as your thighs begin to shake as you clamp down on the fake dick, your body jerking as you gush and squirt around the silicone coating it in your creamy slick. The sight of your release coating the fake cock and the sheets underneath you has Simon spurting thick hot ropes of cum all over his chest. 

“Fuck.” You pant, as you lay still on the bed tryna catch your breath.

“Thank you to whoever sent me this, I'll definitely use it again.” You chuckle, sitting yourself up to look at the camera again giving it a smile. Slowly viewers started to trickle out, until only a few remained allowing Simon to finally talk to you.

“That was so fuckin’ hot, you did so good takin’ that cock, you made me cum all over myself, luvie<3”

“Why thank you, it was a challenge.” You confessed.

“Maybe some practice on a proper cock would make next time easier, doll<3”

“Maybe you’re right.” You smirk “Is this you offering?” You question.

[pintrestgrl]

sweetheart!reader with mean!rafe, hear me outt

they start off as strictly fuck buddies (according to rafe) and she’s just so empathetic and kind, she can’t help but want to love him since clearly no one else does. He dismisses any affectionate attempts that sweetheart!reader does towards him, assuming that was just her being her, not knowing she truly does love and care for him.

She decides to bring him cupcakes or something and little does she know.. he has another girl over.. ( reader doesn’t end up finding out) that moment changed something in rafe

Idk if this made sense lol

sweetheart!reader n mean!rafe

you shouldn’t be nervous. not for someone who never calls you before midnight. not for someone who’s made it perfectly clear what this is—and what it isn’t. but your hands still shake on the steering wheel. your heart still stutters when you pull into his driveway.

you have a box of cupcakes in your lap. pink frosting with hand-piped little hearts. you made them yourself like an idiot, thinking of the time he said he liked strawberry anything while he fed you like some man out of a book. you told yourself it wasn’t romantic. it was just a joke. just something fun. you’re always telling yourself things that aren’t true

“made you something sweet. be there in 5 <3.” you hit send before you can regret it. it doesn’t feel like a random hookup anymore, not to you. hasn’t in a long time. maybe it never did. you keep hoping, maybe, this time— he’ll look at you like he means it. like you matter, like he sees you.

what you didnt know was that inside, rafe was fucking someone else. some random touron. she didn’t mean anything, he didn’t even remember her name. he was just high. trying to feel something, anything. he didn’t expect his phone to light up with your name.

his whole body froze. he pulled out of the forgotten girl, got off the bed, and looked through the window. there you were, walking up the steps, smiling pretty enough to kill him while holding cupcakes in both hands like a gift.

he pulled some jeans on quickly, rushing down the stairs after. by the time he gets down there, you were already ringing the doorbell. he cracked the door just enough to step outside, slamming it behind him before you could peek in.

you can tell somethings off the moment you see him. he’s shirtless. not unusual. but his eyes are darker than usual. jaw tight. you smile anyway. you always smile around him, even when your throat burns. “hi,” you say, soft. “what’s this?” he asks, staring at the box in your hands like it’s cursed. “i made cupcakes. strawberry.”

he doesn’t take the box from you. not right away. just stares at it, then at you. you don’t know what he’s thinking. you never really do. “you didn’t have to do that,” he mutters, like it’s a bad thing. “i know, i just wanted to.” you mumble, waiting for a reply. you hope, you pray he lets you in—not just into the house, but into him.

but instead, “you should go.” he says. it stings. worse than it should. worse than you’ll ever admit. you bite the inside of your cheek to keep your face from falling. you hand him the box anyway, because it’s all you can do. “okay.” and you smile. again. because if you don’t, you’ll cry.

he takes the cupcakes with a strange kind of hesitation. like they’re heavier than they look. like they cost him something. you don’t know why. you don’t ask. you just walk back to your car and leave. because that’s what you do. you show up. you care too much. and you leave when he tells you to.

he shuts the door after you leave, turning and leaning back against it. he just stands there. for a long time after that. the house is too quiet now. he holds the cupcake box like it’s a wound. the girl upstairs peers down at him from the stairs, mumbling something he didnt even try to hear. he didnt care. he’s thinking of you.

your perfume lingers. sugar and something warm. like him, if he were ever soft enough to be worth anything. he opens the box. six cupcakes, perfect pink. you piped little hearts on them, hand-done. he knows it. you don’t half-ass anything when it comes to him. you never did.

he should’ve told you to come in, should’ve kissed you, let you sit on the couch with your legs curled up and talk about dumb shit like you always do. he should’ve eaten every single one of these stupid fucking cupcakes while you watched.

but he didn’t. and he probably never would. because that’s what he felt he deserved. you were too sweet for him. too pretty for his ugly world.

a/n: i like this what ab yall

tags : @enchantedstarfish @heavenlyangelbaby @kittyreposts @littlelamy @cameronsbabydoll @iwishiknew-69 @battybaby111 @thepinkprincesss

[paradimeart]

i want the sirens to look weirderrrr

[georgiasbrainstuff]

do you have the clip from the Monaco podium where Lando and Oscar IMMEDIATELY put an arm around each other for the photo?? I haven't seen anyone post it but it was such a cute moment :')

Hi anon!! May I present two moments from the Monaco podium, because I am not entirely sure which one you might be referring to. And more Landoscar is never a bad thing.

The way Lando reaches out before Oscar is even ready with the trophy. Do you think Oscar made a comment to Lando making fun of Zak and that's why Lando looked over? Then he had to lock in again . They're just always in their own little world when they're together.

Then here without even looking at Oscar Lando's hand was softly sliding up his back to get to his waist. Then they were all settled until the evil Zak had to get between his twinks drivers. Why did he have to separate them????

Anyway, thank you for bringing this up, anon. I hope you're having a great day. <333

[zip-bomb-dog]

This is really, really important. I'm friends with a lot of older therians, and they mourn the days when therianthropy was not a TikTok trend or a current fashion. This is not out of a desire to gatekeep or keep the community closed off, no, this is because TikTok therians have placed so much stress on wearing fancy masks and gear as well as doing quadrobics that some of the very founders of the therianthropy community feel left out in this space they helped build. Outside of disability in young people, which is also crucially important, we're leaving behind disabled or elderly therians who can't keep up with the pace we set. We want to be INCLUSIVE, not create a space where the young and fit reign. Obviously, I always think through a wolf lens, so let me use a similar metaphor. As a wolf ages, as long as their mind is still sharp and judgement is keen, they are still a part of the pack. Yes, some who lag physically may be left behind, but that's where WE do better. We need to nourish our older therians as much as we do our budding ones.

It's fun to run around on all fours, I get it. But doing that shouldn't mean you're a therian, and if someone is disabled, this does NOT mean you are lesser or "un-therian" for being unable to do quads. I'm also friends with therians who are in wheelchairs, have mobility aids, or simply cannot do quads due to their body type or age. They, too, feel left out in a space where people are meant to unite around our shared identity and alterhumanity rather than our physical shape.

I'm not disabled myself, but I have joint problems that prevent me from doing quads. If I try to run on all fours, my knee rapidly gives out or causes me to run with a limp, and I feel weak. Especially from the perspective of a wolf. A packmate who limps is a liability. I've never had a major interest in doing quadrobics anyway, as I prefer to express my therianthropy in other ways, but I can't deny that it does feel isolating. Being surrounded by people who only talk about therianthropy via quadrobics, seeing TikTok accounts devoted to quads as an exclusive expression, and having it be all I hear about on forums and Discord servers makes me feel like I need to withdraw from the community, which isn't fair, and I can only imagine it's worse for actually disabled people.

We need to decrease our focus on the "visible" aspects of therianthropy. Just because you are showing something related to therianthropy physically, quads, masks, tails, etc. does not mean that you are more or less of a therian. If you do it to prove that you are a therian, then you need to step back; if you are a therian, you simply are. You can't really prove it to anyone. Non-therians do quadrobics and wear masks. Therianthropy is an instinctual feeling and an integral part of who you are. It's similar to gender or sexuality - you can't make anyone "prove" their gender or sexuality. Yes, we have labels for it, but even then we cannot always tell from first glance. A man who dates a woman may be bisexual. Someone who dresses feminine may use exclusively he/him pronouns and be a trans man. You don't need to make others see your alterhumanity to BE an alterhuman. I understand that it brings species euphoria to some, and I think that's valid. But all alterhumans need to remember that there are many, many other kinds of therians, otherkin, alterhumans, etc. who are experiencing a vastly different life than them.

Anyway, that's my essay for today, I'm climbing off of my soapbox. The TL;DR is please just be mindful of therians who cannot or will not do what you do; the disabled, older, or unwilling.

We don’t have enough disabled therian representation.

It’s true. We don’t. Since the therian community is mainly online, we don’t get a lot of disabled therians. That is mainly because the algorithm pushes mainly quads and masks. It also kinda ties into my last post about the therian community being very quads and gear centered.

Many disabled people (myself included) aren’t able to do quads. And in a world that’s already not made for us, “coming out” as a therian can place unnecessary pressure on us to be able to do quads and wear gear.

I’m gonna be real with y’all, I can’t live my life without being in pain 24/7. I have multiple disabilities and while i’d love to have gear and do quads, my body just doesn’t allow it.

TLDR: even though disabled therians are underrepresented in the therian community, please don’t discount our existence.

Thanks for reading!

[blackbaddiewithafattie88]

What would it be like to let Smoke and Stack take turns eating your pussy?

In the back of a bar within the Yazoo-Mississippi Delta, you stand before The Smoke Stack Twins.

They’ve had their eyes on you the moment they returned to Clarksdale with enough money to buy a whole Saw Mill and wild stories of how working for mobsters and being Hitmen was a thrill like no other. They had a luxurious apartment in Bronzeville with a beautiful view of Chicago City.

Smoke and Stack used to share women often. It was a twin thing. They each shared similar interests in women. While you think only one twin is trying to pursue you, the other is right behind, playing his card strategically.

Instead of fighting over you, they just settle for sharing. They’re used to sharing anyway.

And now, after seeing you, the farm girl that’s new in town with a strict daddy and a friendly momma they can’t help themselves.

You’re fun sized.

You’re nice and chunky how they like.

And you have enough ass and titties for two.

It started with secret notes being slipped to you in your apron while working at the local farmers market selling produce from your family farm.

You would sneak off to read them, fighting the urge to touch yourself.

Dear, Baby girl

My name is Elijah, but I go by Smoke. I don’t usually do this but…I think you’re beautiful. I want to get to know you sometime. I don’t want you to be afraid of me. I may carry a gun but I promise I’ll be gentle with you. You deserve gentle. You’re so soft and sweet, baby girl. I like your smile. I like how you wear your little dresses. Your hair looks soft and I love how full and curly it is. Those cute little buns you wear. Give me, Smoke, a chance to show you some things.

Leave your decision on a paper and slip it in the Chow’s mailbox.

Smoke. Xo

You did just that. You left a note where he instructed with an immediate YES.

Before you know it, you receive another note and this time it’s from Smoke’s twin brother, Stack

Hi, Sweetie

You probably know who am, probably know me as Stack. My name is Elias. You sure are pretty. Real easy on the eyes. Saw you the other day hanging around. You got the cutest smile. I like you. Let’s get together sometime? You and me. I wanna spoil you. Treat you like you deserve, Sweetie. Give you a break for a day and show you some things. Things you probably ain’t familiar with. I’m a good teacher. Promise I won’t bite unless you ask. Leave this response in the Chow’s mailbox.

Stack. Xo.

Once again. You leave a note with a YES.

Now, the question was how were you going to meet them without the other knowing?

You were given instructions on meeting at a bar.

You walk in wearing a floral dress with cotton panties, ruffled socks, and mary Jane’s. Your hair is styled in a side bun with curly tendrils hanging around your face and a woven hat on your head. You step into the sleazy bar, curious eyes on you.

A side door opens, a door to a back room with a desk.

Out came The Smoke Stack Twins.

You freeze.

Your stomach gets fluttery.

“Hey, Baby girl.” Smoke says with a slight smile and a nod.

“Hey, Sweetie.” Stack tips his hat at you with a dimpled smile.

You can’t control your nerves.

“C’mere,” Smoke curls a finger at you.

“It’s okay, we got you…” Stack says with a teasing smile and his eyes moving over your voluptuous body.

You approach them, fiddling with your purse. They are much bigger and taller than you.

You look up into their faces, eyes flickering back and forth between them. Smoke reaches out and strokes your cheek. Stack grabs your hand, rubbing it gently with his thumb.

“Why don’t we go back in here,” Smoke motions towards the room they came from, “That okay?”

“YES.”

“After you,” Stack motions for you to enter first.

You walk ahead of them. They enter behind you and shut the door. You turn to face them.

“Hi.” You say with a timid voice

They walk up to you, flanking each side.

“Get comfortable.” Stack says.

Smoke finished his cigarette, eyes never leaving you.

You get comfy, removing your hat and sitting your back down.

“You a virgin?” Smoke says.

“I am.” You reply after a beat.

“We can work with that,” Stack shares a look with his brother, “Me and Smoke can break you in. That okay with you?”

“Mhm,” You replied, unable to meet their gaze.

“Where you tell your momma and daddy you’ll be?” Smoke asked.

“With church friends. Book club.”

“They believe you?” Stack asked with narrow eyes.

“Uh huh, I go to book club every Friday night.”

“Good…good.”

Smoke puts his cigarette out. Stack removes his hat.

“We gotta get a good look at you. Sit on up there.” Smoke instructed.

He pointed to the desk.

You take a seat in front of them. They walk up to you and stare down at your body.

“Unbutton your dress,” Stack commands with his tooth pick pointed at you.

You start to do as he’s instructed. Now, you are exposed. Only in bra and cotton panties. You are insecure with your generous curves.

“Don’t hide from us. We love all that.” Stack said

“More to love, baby.” Smoke said.

They move your hands.

“Take your bra off.”

Although they said they love your body, you can’t help but to still feel nervous.

You do as they say anyway. And your breasts to big and full pop out and drop. Brown areolas and nipples.

“Fuuuuck,” Stack grabs himself.

“Mmm…mmm…mmm.” Smoke licks his lips.

They crouch down and suck your nipples. Smoke on one side and Stack on the other. You moan and whimper watching both of them lick and suck on your breasts. Now, you are wet. Crazy wet.

“We love these big titties.” Smoke grunts.

While Smoke is still enjoying your breasts, Stack slips his hand down to rub your crotch.

“Damn, you wet as fuck.”

Smoke needs to see for himself.

Both of their hands rub along your covered pussy.

“This about to taste good I know it.” Smoke says.

Stack and smoke get down on their knees and take it upon themselves to take your panties off.

You aren’t fully hairy but you have some hair growing back. They can see all of you. The full shape of you. Ruffled socks and mary Jane’s still on you bring your feet up to open up more and lean back.

“She got that wet ass pussy, Smoke.” Stack said.

“Let’s taste what we about to fuck.” Smoke said.

Stack goes in for a first lick. He licks your clit with a small tease first. His eyes look up at you with disbelief like you taste like his favorite ice cream.

“Damn, sweetie. You taste like vanilla ice cream. I love it.”

“Hurry up Stack.” Smoke fusses.

Stack starts to lick deeper and adds his lips to it. You moan and grip the edge of the desk.

“You like the way Stack eat your pussy?” Smoke asks.

“Yes,” you moan.

“Here, taste some Smoke.” Stack moves away.

Smoke gets his licks in and his sucks. He grunts. Stack teases your hole with a finger to see how tight you are.

“We gotta be gentle, she tight like she ain’t never put a finger in it.” Stack says.

Smoke looks up at you, “You ever finger yourself?”

“No…too scared to.” You reveal.

They were making you feel so good. You felt yourself dripping on their tongues.

“You gotta get over that fear. We about to open you up.” Smoke said.

“We gotta make this pussy stretch, sweetie.” Stack said

They take turns eating your pussy, amazed at how wet and soaked you are.

“I think I’m close…” you moan.

“You are, we can taste it,” Stack said between licks.

He licked and you could hear how wet you are.

“She’s creaming all on my tongue.” Smoke said.

“Oh my god…”

You try to be quiet.

“Keep those big thighs open.” Stack teases.

“Cum in our mouth. We want to taste you.” Smoke commands.

You do just that. You cum hard. And they don’t stop.

You stare down at their big lips and expert tongues enjoying you.

This was your first time receiving oral and you loved it.

They stand, staring at their work.

“We gonna let you go back home. Next note from us will be to meet here so we can take you back to our place and pop your cherry.” Smoke said.

Stack rubs your pussy for a final taste on his fingers.

“Make sure you bring something to sleep in. You ain’t going back home until the next night.” Stack said.

“What if my parents suspect?”

“You grown, girl. Just make up another lie about being with friends.” Stack said.

“We run shit around here. We’ll make sure everything is a secret.” Smoke said.

You were in for a wild night.

[shaunasrabbit]

Pull the Trigger | Tommy Miller x F!Reader

Explicit. Minors DNI.

Summary: You've been in Jackson for a few months and you're going to start going on patrol soon. Your friend, Tommy Miller, gives you shooting lessons.

Tags: No use of y/n, reader is afab, some physical descriptions (has a bush because #bushnation, reader has scars from typical canon violence), gun use (target practice but still), soft!Tommy, he talks you through it, outdoor/semi-public sex, oral (f!receiving), a dash of biting, dirty talk, use of pet names, unprotected piv, use of the pull out method (don't try this at home). If I missed any tags, please let me know!

Word count: ~4.8K

Read on AO3

Find my whole masterlist

A/N: Thank you, @cuntyhunty22, for requesting this Tommy one-shot! I've never written for Tommy before, so it was a fun challenge. If you like this fic, please consider reblogging/liking. Hope you enjoy!

Simply put, you aren’t good with a gun. Knife skills? Sharp. Shooting? No shot. 

After the group you were traveling with suffered a deadly encounter with a hoard of infected, you stumbled upon Jackson alone. The community took you in without hesitation, showing you a kind of compassion that you had never known. When you first arrived in Jackson, a devastatingly handsome councilman gave you a tour of the impressive city. Tommy Miller, broad and sinewy, quickly became a constant in your life. With Tommy around, bringing you honey for your coffee (you mentioned once that you liked it on the first day you met) and throwing back glasses of whiskey at the Tipsy Bison, you’ve settled in nicely. 

Now that you’ve found your footing in Jackson, Tommy brought up the possibility of putting you on a patrol shift. You met the idea with some hesitation considering your lack of confidence with firearms, but he agreed to give you a few shooting lessons. 

Throwing on a long sleeved Henley, you examine yourself in the mirror, admiring the way your outfit, albeit plain, hugs your curves and accentuates your best features. It feels a little ridiculous to care so much about your appearance when you’re simply going to, hopefully, knock some cans over at the makeshift shooting range in Tommy’s backyard, but you can’t help yourself. As the days go by, you find yourself becoming increasingly jittery around Tommy, although you think you’ve been playing it cool. Well, you hope so anyway. 

The friendship has been straddling the line between platonic and flirty for a few weeks. It started off small, just some benign banter, and eventually turned into lingering touches and charged eye contact. Whenever you think about knocking knees with him at the bar or his hand resting on your back a little too long after a hug, you get butterflies like a teenager. And here you are, getting ready for a shooting lesson like it’s a date. 

Swallowing embarrassment and the unwanted giddiness stuck in your throat, you head outside and set off toward Tommy’s house. The summer sun kisses your skin and you welcome it with gratitude. Despite it being June, mornings still have a bite to them. You’re not sure if it’s the slight chill of the air or the anticipation of seeing Tommy that’s carrying you swiftly, but you’re at his place in no time.

When you see him in the backyard, his muscles straining against a flannel that’s definitely a bit too tight for his biceps, you give yourself a moment to take him in. With a furrowed brow and intense concentration, he uses a rag to wipe the excess oil off of the barrel of his Springfield rifle. Your eyes drift to the white tank top that’s pulled taut against his pecs and eventually trail down to admire the way his soft belly peeks above his belt. His raven black hair is pulled back and secured away from his face, exposing the freckles that pepper his tanned skin. Fuck, he looks beautiful and you feel your chest tighten.

“Hey, you,” he calls, breaking your trance. A smile spreads across his face as you approach him. “Were ya standin’ there starin’ at me for long?”

“Yeah, I was just trying to figure out how to tell you that you’ve got grease on your face,” you tease, reaching up and running your thumb across his jawline to wipe away the grease that isn’t there. It’s a good excuse as to why you were gawking at him and an even better excuse to touch him. You rub your thumb on your dark jeans to really sell it. “There—much better.”

The apples of his cheeks redden from your touch as he mumbles a thank you, and you can’t help but smile at the effect you have on him. Sure, you’re crushing on Tommy like a fifteen-year-old girl, but you suspect he’s crushing right back. You see the way he looks at you from across the dining hall, the way he’s looking at you right now, and you wonder why the hell he hasn’t made a move yet. But then again, why haven’t you?

“Well,” he says, clapping his hands together and raising his eyebrows slightly, “shall we?” 

“We shall,” you lilt, reaching to pick up the gun, “but if I hear one snarky comment about my shooting, you’re going to be on the other end of the gun, Miller.”

“If you’re as bad as you say you are, I ain’t got much to worry about,” he teases with a laugh that makes your stomach flutter. You roll your eyes, but a smile tugs at your lips.

Sitting down at the bench, you scoot awkwardly to position yourself, moving the rifle forward so the forestock is cradled by the gun rest. With your finger hovering over the trigger, you press your eye close to the scope and pull the butt of the gun to your shoulder. You try to recall the other times you’ve shot a gun, but those were all handguns and this gun, with its scope and long barrel, feels particularly intimidating. Tommy must sense your discomfort, coming up behind you and resting a hand firmly on shoulder. 

“Darlin’, you’re gonna break your collarbone and bruise your eye like that,” he informs you, moving the stock down the slope of your shoulder and away from your neck with his free hand. His touch is still heavy on your opposite shoulder and you’re already grieving the loss of its weight that you know is coming. You move your head back so your eye isn’t flush against the scope. “That’s it, there you go.”

His praise shoots right to your core and you find your cunt clenching around nothing, heat spreading across your face. You try to focus on the deadly weapon in your hands and not on Tommy saying that to you while you take him in your mouth. You bet he’s girthy, you bet it would take a second for you to adjust to his size, you bet—

“Y’see the rifle sight at the end of the barrel? Try to put the can between that,” he instructs. 

You nod and follow his orders, one eye closed as you hone in on the target. Tommy’s hand drops from your shoulder and you try not to audibly sigh in disappointment. Leaning forward, he switches the safety off, placing a hand on the table in front of you. You don’t realize that he’s centimeters away from you until you feel his hot breath on the shell of your ear.

“Alright now, pull the trigger…” Tommy says, voice low and husky, “...nice and slow.” 

You pull the trigger, hard and fast, to cover up the way your breath catches in your throat. It keeps playing over in your brain—nice and slow, nice and slow, nice and slow—and you feel your panties dampen. Those three words, so fucking filthy coming out of Tommy’s mouth, have you nearly dripping. You’d be embarrassed about missing the shot, but you’re too busy thinking about how wet you are.

Tommy chuckles softly in your ear, his breath tickling your neck, sending a shiver down your spine. Your cheeks burn and you’re thankful he can’t see the sheepish look on your face. 

“Don’t you say—”

“I’m not gonna,” Tommy interrupts and you can hear the smile in his voice. “Look, lemme show ya.”

When Tommy’s big, calloused hand rests on top of yours, you feel your hand start to shake. The two of you have shared countless touches before, but not like this. This is charged, intimate. You hold your breath when Tommy’s finger joins yours over the trigger, worried that if you breathe, he’ll realize how deeply you’re affected by him. Part of you wonders if he already knows.

Tommy’s voice is gravelly, his Southern drawl syrupy, when he whispers in your ear, “Relax for me. We’re gonna take it…”

“Nice and slow,” you finish for him, not realizing how sultry you sound until you hear him exhale with force. 

“That’s right,” he mumbles. His chest is pressed against your back as he hovers just above you, mouth dangerously close to your ear. The weight of his arm on yours is intoxicating. He’s basically holding you and you don’t want to pull the trigger. You don’t want the moment to end. “Ready?”

“Ready.”

You hear the ping of the can before you notice it fall. Tommy’s hand lets go of yours to flick the safety on before returning to squeeze you gently. When you turn your head, Tommy’s already looking at you. His dark brown eyes hold your gaze and you swear, you could fall into them like a black hole. The corners of your mouth twitch into a shy smile. 

“Did s’good, I kne—”

Before he can finish his sentence, you press your lips to his. Your movement is urgent, but the kiss itself is soft, almost hesitant. Tommy kisses you back with equal care. You let go of the gun to allow Tommy’s palm to eclipse your hand, eventually lacing his fingers with yours. Electricity shoots through you and you’re in awe that a kiss could make you feel like this. Nothing has ever made you feel like this. The way your neck is craned is uncomfortable at best, if not downright painful, but it doesn’t matter. All that matters is that you finally pulled the trigger. 

When you break the kiss, you pull back enough to stare at Tommy. Your eyes are wide as you search his face for any intel on what might be going on in his head. All you can find is shock and you’re sure that you’re mirroring that, staring at him like a deer caught in headlights, but you can’t hold back a smile that Tommy immediately returns. He moves to sit next to you on the bench, his muscular thigh nestles against yours, and you can finally look at him without feeling like you’re on the verge of snapping your neck. 

“You’re better at kissin’ than shootin’,” he teases with a boyish grin, nudging you with his elbow.

“That’s not saying much,” you reply, laughing softly.

“No, I s’pose it ain’t.” He shakes his head and that stupid smile that makes you feel all fluttery is still painted on his face. “But I bet you could teach me a thing or two.”

“Really? I didn’t get the impression that you need lessons from me,” you say, turning so you’re facing him more, “but maybe you could kiss me again. Just so I can be sure.”

Tommy’s hand comes up to cradle your face, his thumb stroking your cheek with a featherlight touch, like you might break if he uses any further force. You don’t even realize that you’re leaning into his touch, your eyelids fluttering closed for only a moment before you're looking at him expectantly. He pulls you into him, lips meeting yours with fervor. Any hesitancy that the last kiss carried has washed away entirely. Your mouths dance together, perfectly choreographed like they’ve moved in unison a thousand times before. His tongue prods at your lower lip and you grant him entrance, and when your tongues collide, you hear him groan from somewhere deep in his chest. Pushing your thighs together, you feel wetness pool between your legs. 

Your hand rests on his bicep as you pull away, letting yourself catch your breath. 

“Definitely don’t need my help,” you say, breathy and a bit flustered, “but you know…practice makes perfect.”

“Always room for improvement, darlin’.” 

With that, Tommy leans in and places a gentle kiss to your jaw. And another. And another until he’s leaving a trail of kisses down your neck. Eyes shut and thighs pressed together, you let out a small whimper. Lips brushing over your pulse point, you shiver at the way his facial hair scratches your soft skin. Your hands are gripping his biceps like he’s going to disappear if you let go, and you’re pulling him in closer. Sitting on the bench, the position is awkward, but neither of you seem to mind. Tommy’s hands explore your waist as he leaves kisses along the neckline of your shirt. 

“Tommy…” you sigh, sounding utterly fucked and he hasn’t even touched you properly yet.

He hums against your skin, making his way up the column of your throat. You’re pulling your bottom lip between your teeth when he’s inches away from your mouth, looking into your eyes again. 

“You want me to stop?” he asks. His voice is light, almost cavalier, but his eyes carry genuine concern—he’s waiting for your go ahead. 

“No! Jesus, fuck. No.” You shake your head a little too intensely. “I want you and I want to…not be sitting like this.”

Tommy chuckles and obliges, getting to his feet before lifting you up so that you’re sitting on the tabletop. In the mid-morning light, his deep brown eyes sparkle and you could count each individual freckle if you wanted to.

Grabbing his hand, you pull him forward and he steps between your parted legs. As Tommy leans down to kiss you tenderly, his free hand finds the exposed skin of your waist, your shirt riding up. As your kisses become hungrier, you wrap your legs around him and coax him in to coming closer to you. The two of you move with ease like you were made to do this. To touch each other. To be this close. 

Rough, calloused hands move up your torso and under your shirt while you wrap your arms around his neck, leaning into his touch. When his thumbs skate across the underside of your breasts, you moan into his mouth and you can feel him smile against your lips, deepening the kiss. Tommy reads your body, accepting the invitation to go further. He gently brushes your nipples and they harden at his touch. Your head is spinning and if it weren’t for the sound of your kisses, you think Tommy would be able to hear how loud your heart is beating. 

The rolling of your nipples between his fingers causes you to part from his lips, your head falling back as you let out a moan. Tommy’s taking too much pleasure out of teasing you—the smug smile he sports gives it away. 

Nipping lightly at your earlobe, he whispers, “C’mere, let’s get this off.” 

He pulls your shirt over your head, exposing your body to the sun. You’re practically glowing in the light, and Tommy’s eyes light up, scanning you like he doesn’t know where to start. Normally, you’d feel self-conscious being so exposed in broad daylight and it’s not lost on you that anyone could see you, but all you can think about is Tommy—his hands, his mouth, his wide fucking shoulders. 

“Fuck,” he exhales, “somehow prettier than in my dreams.”

“You’ve been dreaming of me, Miller?” 

Grinning and shaking his head, Tommy leans forward to plant a kiss in between your breasts. 

“Every.” Kiss. “Damn.” Kiss. “Night.” Kiss.

You don’t get the chance to respond before his mouth is around your nipple, sucking it and dragging his teeth along the sensitive bud. The contact makes you whimper as your back arches, pressing yourself further into his mouth. 

“Tell me,”—you moan—“tell me what you do to me in your dreams.”

Tommy lets go of your nipple with a lewd pop, a string of spit connecting his mouth to your bud. Looking up at you, his eyes manage to darken even more. His hands grab the top of your thighs and he pulls you forward so that you’re flat on your back, your body flush to his. 

“Can do ya one better,” he rasps, biting at your neck and you instinctively tense up. Tommy moves his hands down to unbutton your trousers. “Relax, honey. Lemme show ya.” 

Lifting your ass to help him, Tommy pulls your pants off, tossing them haphazardly to the side and they land next to the forgotten gun. Clad in only your underwear that’s stained with a dark spot from your arousal, you push yourself forward to press against him and grind against his bulge. 

“See what you do to me?” he asks, taking your hand and pressing it to his hard cock, straining under his jeans. 

Even through the denim, you can tell he’s big and your breath catches in your throat as you imagine what it’ll be like to have him stretch you out. The thought alone has you nearly salivating and you go to sit up so that you can grab his belt buckle, but Tommy’s hand lands between your breasts, firm yet gentle, keeping you pinned to the table. A quiet whine slips from your lips.

“I know, I know,” he coos, dragging a finger slowly along your clothed slit. Tommy looks at the dampness on your lace panties with hungry eyes. “You wear these just f’me, baby?” 

“Mhm,” you damn near moan, nodding your head, “I was hoping you’d take them off.” 

So he does—his fingers curling under the waistband, dragging the ruined fabric down. You lie there, bare and exposed, while Tommy is completely clothed. The vulnerability only makes you wetter. Instinctively, you spread your legs to show off your slick.

“See what you do to me?” you parrot back to him with a lecherous sparkle in your eyes, propping yourself up on your arms so you can get a better look at him. Tommy’s mouth is slightly agape as he takes in your swollen, wet lips and the hair on your mound. 

Running a hand over his face, Tommy drops to his knees and hooks your legs over his shoulders. He sounds wrecked when he says, “Fuck, I need to—”

“Please,” you interrupt with a whine, bucking your hips in search of relief. 

Tommy doesn’t hesitate. Tongue flat, he licks a long stripe from the bottom of your slit to your clit, sucking the swollen bud into his mouth and humming. The vibration increases your pleasure and a wanton moan claws its way out of your throat. Tommy adds just the right amount of pressure as he flicks your clit gently with his tongue, a hand coming up to rest on the lower part of your belly, pressing lightly. You’re propped up on your elbows so you can watch him devour you, lapping up your juices like it’s a priceless elixir. It feels so fucking good that you can’t even be bothered to worry about attracting the neighbor’s attention with the obscene sounds coming out of you. 

“Never tasted anythin’ better,” Tommy says before diving back into you. With his free hand, he teases your opening, weeping with your arousal. “One or two?”

“Anything,” you gasp, “I’ll take anything you give me, Tommy. Just—please.”

You sound desperate, but your mind is hazy from his expert tongue that you can’t find it in you to care. Tommy’s chuckle is low, his eyes locked on yours as he inserts one thick digit into you. The curl of his finger has you mewling, thighs beginning to tremble from his precision.

“Jesus, you’re fuckin’ tight,” he says, placing a sloppy kiss on your clit. He adds another finger and picks up the place. The stretch is heavenly. “Can’t wait to feel ya squeezin’ my cock like this.”

“T-Tommy, please,” you squeak out between moans. With sheer want, you buck your hips to say more, more, more.

“Y’wanna come on my fingers?” he asks, his words filled with pure affection. “C’mon then, baby. Give it to me. Fuck yourself on my fingers.”

You swear, you could come from his words alone. That sweet, Southern drawl mixed with lust pushes you closer to the edge. The way his fingers nudge the sweet spot deep inside of you has you closing your eyes, head falling back in pleasure as your moans grow louder.

Tommy’s tongue meets your clit again, sucking and slurping your sensitive nub. He groans into your puffy folds before breaking contact. 

“Show me how pretty you sound comin’ for me,” he rasps. He starts rubbing your clit with his thumb in earnest as he continues to fuck you with two fingers. “Let go, darlin’. I got you.”

And fuck, it hits you hard. Your walls clench around his fingers as your orgasm overwhelms you. Tommy watches with heavy eyelids as your thighs twitch and tremble, taking in the sight of you with satisfaction written all over his face. The sound that comes out of you is somewhere between a cry and a moan, and you continue to fuck yourself on his fingers to ride out your orgasm. Tommy’s thumb is still circling your clit as you come down, but he reads your body like he’s done this a thousand times, finally stopping when your face twists into something akin to displeasure. 

“That’s my girl,” he coos as he rubs small circles on your inner thigh, smearing your slick on your hot skin. “Could tell from the moment I saw you that you’d look real good fallin’ apart for me.”

“Was it everything you dreamed of?” you ask, still trying to catch your breath.

“And more,” he whispers.

Tommy comes up to kiss you—softly at first, but he quickly deepens the kiss, his tongue prodding at your lips, begging for you to let him in. When you grant him entrance, you can taste yourself on his tongue and you moan into his mouth. You start to rip at his clothes, prying his flannel off and pulling his ribbed tank top over his head. With wide eyes, you take in his broad shoulders, the freckles that dot his chest, and the plush of his tummy that his belt bites into. Tommy Miller is fucking beautiful and you need him. 

Sitting up fully, legs still trembling from what was probably the most mind blowing orgasm of your life, you reach for your belt and this time, Tommy doesn’t stop you. Looking up at him with blown out pupils, your shaky hands unbuckle his belt, pulling his boxers and jeans down to the middle of his thighs with haste. Your eyes flick down to his cock—thick and throbbing and hard with pre-cum leaking from his slit. When you felt his bulge through his pants earlier, you knew he was going to be big. But this…this is unlike anything you’ve ever seen. 

“Shit,” you whisper more to yourself than to Tommy. Brows furrowed, you look up at him.

“Don’t you worry, baby.” It’s like he can read your mind. He grabs his length, stroking it once before lining himself up with your entrance. “We’ll make it fit.”

You’ve been with plenty of guys, sure, but again…none of them can even compare to Tommy and he hasn’t even fucked you yet. His fingers alone felt like a lot. Your breath hitches when Tommy slides his leaking cock up and down your slit, teasing your oversensitive clit. 

“And if it hurts?” you ask meekly. 

“Then I’ll kiss it all better.”

Tommy leans forward to kiss the corner of your mouth tenderly, and the hand that’s not gripping his shaft wraps around the small of your back to support you. He rests his forehead against yours. 

“Say the word,” he whispers, pushing just the tip inside of you, “and we’ll stop.”

As soon as you nod, Tommy pushes in with a groan—filling you inch by inch. Your eyes are trained on him, your mouth slightly agape as you feel him stretching you. Pulling a high pitched moan out of you, Tommy bottoms out. There’s no denying it burns, but the pain soon melts into pure pleasure. 

“Y’alright?” he asks, peppering your face with light pecks. One on your cheek, one on your forehead, one on the tip of your nose.

“Mm,” you hum, wrapping your legs tighter around his waist and crossing your ankles for security, “More, I-I want more.”

Tommy responds with a grunt, pulling out and fucking himself back into you. He sets a steady pace, driving into you with controlled, measured thrusts. All you can hear is the sound of Tommy’s heavy breathing, his occasional groans, and your own cries. It’s like the outside world, the birds and the lawnmower in the distance, have faded away. The only thing that’s real, the only thing that’s tangible, is Tommy. 

“Christ, knew you were gonna be tight,” he rasps, “but goddamn.” 

All you can do is moan in response, fingernails digging into his bicep, leaving half-moon marks that you’re sure you’ll still be able to see tomorrow. Your other hand tangles in his hair and you free it from the elastic holding it out of his face. Tommy’s thrusts grow erratic and he mumbles your name followed by expletives. Seeing him so utterly wrecked makes your head spin and pressure boils inside you as you approach your second orgasm of the day. Feeling your cunt spasm and tighten around his dick, Tommy feeds you his thumb which you gladly take between your lips, sucking until it obscenely pops out of your mouth; the wet pad circles your clit. 

“Tommy!” you cry out, burying your face into his neck, slick with sweat. “S-So fucking good.”

“Can feel you’re close, honey. Gimme another,” he begs, sounding desperate and fully fucked. “Come on my cock.”

The second orgasm is somehow even stronger than the first, and you find yourself biting down on Tommy’s neck to muffle the strangled sound that’s being ripped from you. You can tell that Tommy’s close too, struggling not to come, but he manages to fuck you through your orgasm. Nearly seeing stars, you’re not sure how much more you can take as Tommy’s length repeatedly kisses your cervix. The sensitivity, the squelching of your sopping wet cunt, Tommy’s groans and grunts—it’s all filthy and you can’t get enough and, at the same time, you can barely handle it.

Blissfully overwhelmed, you’re pulled out of your haze as Tommy’s cock slips out of you, spilling ropes of his cum on the hair that covers your mound. Tommy looks down at his throbbing cock that’s resting on your pubic bone right next to his spend. Taking a deep breath, his gaze finds you and he looks exhausted, but the good kind of exhausted, like you know he’s going to sleep well tonight after expending so much energy before noon. 

You sit upright, his cum dripping down until it coats your swollen clit. Tommy wraps his arms around your waist, bringing you into his chest. You’re both messes, covered in each other’s sweat and cum, and it starts to dawn on you that you just fucked Tommy Miller in the open during the middle of the day. Still, neither of you make a move to cover yourselves. You just sit, staring at each other, absorbing the moment.

Breaking your trances by carding your fingers through his dark hair, you crane your neck up to press a kiss to his jaw. “Tommy,” you sigh, “I think we should probably…”

“Yeah, s’pose you’re right,” he finishes for you.

The flannel sheets on Tommy’s bed are way too warm for June, but you snuggle your naked body into them anyway, now completely exhausted and spent from the third orgasm that Tommy gave you in the shower. All you can smell is Tommy and fresh cut grass that pours in from the open window. The hum of the tower fan calms you, and you begin to drift off, eyelids impossibly heavy. 

Roused by the bed dipping, Tommy crawls in beside you and pulls you into his arms, your head resting on his chest. Small droplets fall from his wet hair. You haven’t felt this content in a long time. Sure, Jackson was peaceful compared to the chaos you were raised in, but this is completely foreign to you. No one’s arms have ever felt this safe, strong, and secure. 

Tommy kisses the crown of your head, his arm sliding down your side, landing on the jagged scar that’s years old at this point. His fingers trace the raised skin under your ribs. 

“What’s this from?” he asks, nearly whispering.

“Knife fight.”

He hums in response, pulling out from under you and positioning above. Tommy starts at your neck, trailing kisses down your body until he gets to the scar. Sprinkling featherlight touches along it with his lips, Tommy looks up at you with those dark eyes that make your knees weak.

“S’why you’ll be bringin’ a gun next time,” he teases, grinning up at you with that million dollar smile. 

“Yeah, if we can get through a single lesson,” you retort with a soft laugh. You brush the wet hair out of his face.

“Now whose fault is that?” Shaking his head, his lips drag further down your body, his facial hair tickling you, until he reaches your clit. Tommy dances around your slit, leaving wet, open-mouthed kisses on your inner thighs and your mound. You let out a small whimper.

At this rate, you’re never going to pick up a gun again.

Taglist: @xodilfluvr & @grayandthyme

[takenbypeter]

The Power to Make You Blush

Bob Reynolds x reader

Words:655

Today was a great day. 

Sure it started out rough. First, with your body just not wanting to get up out of bed, then, you somehow spilled your morning drink all over your new shirt, plus your crew just finished that grueling project yesterday. And while the project was over, you were all still feeling the stress from it. 

Your boss, sensing this, decided to up the morale by bringing a few puppies into the small office space and giving all the workers some puppy time. 

Which is exactly what you were gushing about to Bob as you got home. 

He had been at your place all day with no mission, no practice, absolutely nothing to do except waste the day away trying to keep his mind busy. But, now he was just elated you were finally home. 

Once there you opened up a bag of chips, sharing them together, with you on one side of your island counter and Bob seated on the chair on the opposite side. He questioned about your day which prompted you to open up about the puppies. 

“You should have seen them Bob! There was six, and some were siblings and others were from different litters. But they were so soft and had the cutest puppy breath. They smelled so good! I just grabbed one and stuffed my face all over her. Her name was Liza and she had tiny white paws and she was tan and had …blonde…eyelashes…”

You were going to continue on but you tentatively slowed down once you saw the look on his face. 

Bob’s eyes were glued to your face and his lips were curved upwards just a bit. His pupils were dilated and he was gawking motionless. 

“What is it?” Your hand raised brushing at your face, “do I have crumbs on my face or what?”

He shook his head his brown strands swaying from side to side as he did so, “nothing, it’s just,” he shrugged, “I like hearing you talk.”

You blinked a few times processing his words. You could feel your cheeks warming up, then your ears then your face as your eyes started looking at the chips on the table instead of him. 

He was always like this. Normal one minute, then the next he was saying or doing something too sweet for you to handle. You just weren’t used to the loving attention that he constantly gave. 

“Go on,” he motioned for you to complete your story. 

“Right so…the puppies were only…2 months but there was one that was so…big,” you tried to meet his eyes but he was still looking at you with that same look. You couldn’t think straight, “I think…it was a Doberman.” You met them again and couldn’t keep going. 

Setting down your chips you held your hand open in front of his face to block his sight. “I can’t finish the story when you’re doing that.”

“Like what? What am I doing?”

“Looking at me like that! Like you love me.”

“I do love you.” 

You held your other hand out blocking his face entirely so he couldn’t see how red you had gotten. “Bob! Stop!”

He laughed a full laugh, while pushing your hands to the side. “I can’t help it, this is just my face!” He yelled, jokingly matching your volume, “but I’ll try to stop.”

“Okay well I’m done anyways. Fun day, cute puppies, yada yada. I feel like all I’ve been doing is talking about myself. How was your day?”

Bob was a bit disappointed you weren’t going to finish your story. He hadn’t even realized he was staring at you like that, but could he help it? You were so animated and happy it was melting his guts on the inside just how passionate you were, and all for puppies!

While Bob let it go for now he definitely was going to circle around to that conversation later. 

[7-deadly-cats]

GIRL YOU BE WRITING WHOLE ASS CHAPTERS YOURSELF LMFAO 🤣🫶 (love you for that)

i think he was surprised as well about the fact he got to have lunch with her parents bc he genuinely just wanted to drop off her purse (and have a little chit chat with her) and that’s it and then her dad straight up looked after him and i guess rafe just loved the attention and the way he was cared for and ahcjsjd

LMAOO yes i def see barry and reader as a very cool duo with both being chill with each other. like they probably wouldn’t hang out alone just to chill bc i guess they are not that close but i believe whenever reader visits him with cara, they just chit chat or let cara ramble about stuff and i just liked the idea that he feels protective over her bc idk guess he values her kindness and the way she’s not fake or such, so he just decided yep adopting that little alley cat. and LMAO maybe if i find the time i could come up with an extra 🤣

um, yeah, making their car convo long af and extremely unnerving was absolutely and definitely intentional to mirror rafe’s pov and the way she drives him to the brink of insanity and definitely NOT bc i’m horrible at keeping things short and bc i got lost in their little discussion hahahah 😅😅😅 👍👍

and i def had a hard time deciding whether i should write the convo from rafe’s pov or reader’s but i felt like rafe’s was more interesting. and i was also really unsure about what i wanted rafe to admit or confess but i guess for one he wanted to test if she may actually want a hookup too and two he was so frustrated with her the truth just spilled out 🤣

YESS him coming to the conclusion that he wants to have her around even after the project is prob my fav part of this scene (and him joking about making her a friendship bracelet lmao)

i def understand. i, for example, flirt with my male friends bc it’s fun but it def can get confusing sometimes 🤣💀 it can feel a lot like mixed signals and i guess that’s how it was for poor reader. and also, rafe is such a complicated person i don’t think he knows WHAT he wants either. plus he’s only got two options on his mind: short-time fun in form of hookups or (now) a friendship. this stupid boy doesn’t even consider a romantic relationship (yet)

AND THATS THE FUNNIEST PART OF THEIR WHOLE DYNAMIC LIKE HE DOESNT FUCKING GET THAT SHE'S HEAD OVER HEELS FOR HIM LIKE MY BOY. like HE thinks she's all nervous and anxious and always deflecting his flirt attempts bc she feels uncomfortable around him or doesn't like him. which is also sad af bc he subconsciously thinks a girl would never like him for who he is AHHHHH THIS BOY

about rafe and kie: this series in general is based a lot around canon stuff or takes inspo from it just with my own twist and i kinda picked up on the kie and rafe tension they have going on in the show (i know it's not explicitly stated what went on with them) and MY personal headcanon is that bc kms!kie and sarah have been besties as children, kie hung around a lot at tannyhill so she also automatically interacted with rafe and guess kie was the first girl teen!rafe would joke around with and such, so she kinda felt like a third little sister, but they eventually fell apart (for reasons i've yet to explain) and yeah. but it was def platonic (mainly bc i'm not a fan of riara oops)

ANYWAY HERE I AM WRITING A LONG-ASS REPLY TO YOUR LONG-ASS REBLOG WHEW

thx for always putting sm effort in your comments and thoughts and thx for sticking around <3

killing me softly | 16

K M S M A S T E R L I S T | <- P R E V I O U S | N E X T ->

✿ G E N R E ✿ she fell first, he fell harder | slice of life | drama

✿ P A I R I N G ✿ s1!rafe cameron x overthinking!reader (f)

✿ C O N T E N T W A R N I N G ✿ swearing, suggestive language & themes, rafe ovulating, angsty and overthinking reader, some verbal tension, some very long-ass conversation starting in the second half, reader having some intense episode of spiraling and need for reassurance, rafe being very dramatic at the end aka him jumping to the craziest conclusion known to man aka he's actually going insane (monologue only), also rafe being possessive and if you look closely also some unresolved trauma of abandonment, some hints at past platonic kiara x rafe

✿ S U M M A R Y O F L A S T P A R T ✿ waking up with a hangover, the first thing you saw when opening your phone was the drunk texts you’d sent to rafe after getting home last night. the two of you had exchanged blurry selfies, and rafe had made some very suggestive comments. cringing at yourself, you texted cara to meet up later. after your shower, you found rafe in the living room bc he wanted bring you your forgotten bag. his bruise getting looked at by your dad (rafe later claimed he told your dad the bruise was an accident with a golf club). your mom invited rafe for lunch and they seemed to like him. afterward, you and rafe are left alone with him suggesting to continue your project. you being too hungover declined. rafe decided to drag you outside so you could properly sober up. in his car, rafe gave you his phone to shut kelce's spamming up. however, opening the chat, an upper body pic of kelce greeted you. after replying to kelce in rafe's name, you got a little too curious scrolling through the chat and finding thirst trap of rafe (the boys seemingly update each other with their gym progress). rafe caught you staring but he shrugged it off with a cocky remark. you finally arrived at the health store rafe claimed had magical anti-hangover smoothies. and somewhere between the car ride and the smoothies, you started to get the feeling that maybe, just maybe, rafe actually liked you more than you originally thought.

✿ W O R D C O U N T ✿ 10.4k+ (reader's fault)

✿ A / N ✿ getting to add some barry action into KMS? don't mind if i do hihihii;; also literally so anxious about this part (i know i say this with every new chapter help) bc the second half took me a while to figure out or rather i had a hard time debating how i wanted their convo to go AND which pov i wanted it to be in and ngl i actually had to keep my own patience in check with reader 🤣 and well, i’m always scared some stuff might feel forced or rushed, especially bc i’m aiming for a natural development BUT ANYWAY, it is what it is and i hope you guys enjoy. as always, lmk what you think <3

✿ ✿ ✿ ✿ ✿ ✿ ✿ ✿ ✿ ✿ ✿ ✿ ✿ ✿ ✿

"That looks like the stuff that came out of me this morning," you said with scrunched-up brows as you crouched in front of the smoothies' fridge at Bulk & Bloom (shit, yeah, that was the actual shitty-ass name, and no, Kelce was not a co-founder).

And somehow, seeing you in that position there beside him, lips slightly parted in a way that could be viewed suggestive in a different setting, Rafe had no fucking clue why, but the sight did something to him. Suddenly, there was an urgent need to think of wrinkly old grandmas and dead puppies.

Rafe let out a chuckle. "Which end?"

You blinked at him, deadpan. “Your sense of humor is horrible.”

Fucking hell. And now you were looking up at him with that bratty gaze. Rafe tried to think about literally anything other than how badly he wanted to—

Fuck, what.

"Shit, still better than expressing my feelings through some fucked-up images that look like they came straight out of a crackhead’s brain," he shot back with a crooked smile.

Because yeah, your weird-ass reaction pictures? Only Wheezie seemed to understand what the hell those pictures were supposed to mean, or how to use them (not that he'd shown them to anyone else anyway). And Rafe still questioned his own sanity for actually asking his little sister to explain them to him.

Not because he cared, of course. He just didn’t want you to think he was beneath you when it came to that crap.

You turned your gaze back to the line-up of smoothies. "Should be easy enough for you to understand, considering you and the crackhead share similar hobbies."

Oh, how badly Rafe wanted to shut you up and teach you some respect in a way that made his blood rush faster and adrenaline shoot higher.

He had skipped the fucking coke this morning on purpose, and he was still having these insane thoughts. Worsening by the minute.

"Real funny," he muttered.

You chuckled. "Who says I’m joking?"

Rafe scoffed. You were definitely doing this on purpose—acting all bratty, just to get a rise out of him. And he seriously questioned how the fuck you had the confidence to act like that when just earlier in his car, you’d been a stuttering, awkward mess after he'd caught you staring at his post-gym pic like you’d just pulled a legendary FIFA card.

“Feeling bold now, huh?” he said. “Funny, considering you were damn near drooling on my phone a few minutes ago.”

And the little side-eye you threw him? Brows furrowed, lips pressed together? Rafe drank that shit up like ice-cold water.

He raised his eyebrows in anticipation as you looked at him. Yeah, how were you gonna talk your way out of that one? With another I-I didn’t mean to, sorry, I just—

"I'm not ashamed to admit that Kelce has a nice build."

what.

Rafe didn’t even feel his smile drop or his brows furrow because the sudden rush of anger hit so fast, it short-circuited everything else.

Like, what the fuck.

Obviously, he hadn’t been talking about fucking Kelce. It had been his pic. Him your nosy little ass had been staring at.

Shit. No fucking way.

Had he been right to suspect something during that project session at Kelce’s? Did you actually have a thing for that fucker? He couldn’t wrap his head around it. Couldn’t fucking understand how—

You little shit.

The second that sly smile crept onto your lips, the tension in Rafe’s jaw eased.

Shit, how badly he wanted to shut your mouth. And you still crouching next to him only fueled the flashing images in his head.

"Hilarious," Rafe muttered with a scowl, gesturing toward the fridge. "Now have you finally picked one? They all taste the fucking same anyway."

And you had the audacity to chuckle in response.

God, you were eating away at Rafe’s last nerve, which somehow just worsened the pressure building in his chest. And the crazy part? It was the kind of pressure he usually only got rid of when he was knee-deep in some random girl.

And that thought triggered more images. Of you. Sounds you’d make. The way you’d get all flustered and—

Fuck this shit.

No way he needed to get off that badly that you ended up being the one his brain fixated on.

It was just pent-up tension. Yeah, that was it. Just because he hadn’t gotten the chance to take care of it last night—thanks to fucking Topper crashing in the guest room with him—and you just happened to be the nearest girl around for his brain to throw into those kinds of scenarios.

It’s fine, he told himself. Gonna take care of that shit later at home.

"Well, you claimed one of them helps with hangovers," you said, eyeing him with an amused smile. "How am I supposed to know which one to pick when they're called..." You leaned forward (Rafe took that as a green light to check out your ass) and squinted at the name tags on the dumbass smoothies. "Maxx Mass Mango, Triceps Tropic Thunder, or," you let out an embarrassed laugh, "The Triple Load."

Rafe let out a low chuckle because the way you'd said it—so innocent, so awkward—was fucking priceless. You getting flustered over anything even remotely suggestive? Stupidly hilarious.

"I think one load will be enough for you today," he said with a lopsided grin, relishing the way you immediately looked away with a frown, all awkward again. Then he reached into the fridge for the Thirst Aid bottle and held it out to you. "Now let’s get the fuck out of here before the first wave of lunchtime joggers comes crashing in."

✿ ✿ ✿ ✿ ✿ ✿ ✿ ✿ ✿ ✿ ✿ ✿ ✿ ✿ ✿

“Wait here. I’ll be right back.” Rafe unbuckled his seatbelt, grabbed his wallet from the center console, and reached for a backpack in the back seat.

Okay. Three funny things: One, he had clearly lied to you earlier at home because this definitely meant he was about to do something sketchy. Two, you still hadn’t recovered from those ridiculously named smoothies. And three… guess where you were?

Barry’s pawn shop.

Like yeah, you'd kinda figured he and Rafe knew each other with Rafe selling fucking coke to his classmates. And sure, Barry probably wasn’t the only plug in the Cut but still, funny coincidence that it was him.

Aka the same guy Cara got her weed from.

Aka the guy she lowkey tried setting you up with since you'd first met him.

Barry was chill and cool, and okay, objectively speaking, he had a pretty face if you ignored the tangled hair and commitment-issues beard. And yeah, okay, you did like him, but in a completely platonic way.

More like two bros. Except for that one very steamy dream you'd had about him once that we’re never, ever talking about again from this point on.

Okayyyyy, hahaha, moving on.

But since you were already here, you kinda wanted to say hi.

"The fuck are you doing?" Rafe snapped as he saw you unbuckle your seatbelt just as he was about to get out of the car.

You eyed him dryly. "Getting out?"

"No. I told you to wait here." Oh, this dude was DEFINITELY picking up drugs with that sudden change in tone.

"Yeah, I have ears," you said with a scoff, slinging your bag over your shoulder and reaching for the car's door.

Rafe’s jaw clenched. "I’m fucking serious. Stay here."

You chuckled at how ridiculous he sounded, your gaze flicking to the backpack on his lap. "Why? Because you’re about to do some sketchy shit in there?"

"Because I don’t need some girl clinging to my ass everywhere I go," he snapped.

Braincells = 0.

You blinked. "Correct me if I'm wrong but weren't you the one asking me to come along?"

He looked so dumb with his lips pressed tight, brows drawn, and hugging his backpack like a pissed-off schoolboy running out of patience.

Eyeing you with an irritated smile, he said, “You don’t actually think—”

“Okay, no,” you cut him off, body shifting back toward him. “Which part of what I've said offended you now?”

Rafe’s brows twitched. His brain was probably running a marathon trying to figure out why he was actually pissed off.

“I don’t have the fucking patience to argue right now,” he muttered, voice strained. “Just fucking stay here. I’ll be back in five minutes, okay?”

Considering his usual reactions, that was almost a polite reassurance.

“Well, maybe I’ve got business in there too,” you said, brows raised.

Oh, this idiot found that hilarious. His face lit up like a kid watching a clown trip over its own shoes. “Yeah, nah, I doubt that.”

You held his gaze without saying a word. He didn’t want a discussion? Fine. Let him stew in the awkward silence and realize how dumb he was acting.

National Geographic should honestly study this dude because the silent treatment riled him up more than anything else, and you were this close to snapping a photo of his dumb little expression.

He ran a hand over his face and nodded dramatically. “Fine, then come along, for fuck’s sake. Don’t piss me off. But don’t start whining if some crackhead in there gives you a dirty look.”

You pressed your lips together, trying to suppress a smile. He sounded mad, but: “So you were trying to keep me away from shady people. How heroic."

“If it helps the voices in your head,” he muttered, the most dramatic scowl painted across his face. “Now get your ass moving, don't wanna get stabbed out here.”

“I’ll be damned,” Barry said with a lazy grin as you and Rafe stepped into the little shop. “Country Club and Little Alley Cat showing up together? What is it—my birthday?”

You chuckled, heart skipping a beat for… WHATEVER REASON. OKAY, MOVING ON.

The shop was completely empty, aside from grumpy Larna who sat in the back room behind a desk, glancing up with a death glare before going back to whatever she was doing.

Fucking dumbass Rafe just blinked, flabbergasted and visibly disoriented. Apparently, he hadn’t expected you to know his plug, and for some reason, that made the whole thing feel like home turf.

“You two fucking know each other?” he asked, face scrunched like he’d just bitten into a lemon.

Barry chuckled, leaning on the counter. “You can bet your spoiled little ass on it.” Then he turned to you with a smirk. “And I see Little Kitty has finally gotten herself a guard dog.” He nodded toward Rafe. “Hoping you got him checked for rabies with that temper of his.”

Why did everyone just assume you and Rafe had something going on? You two weren’t exactly radiating happy couple energy. Then again, Rafe wasn’t known for having female friends (which you also weren't), so... yeah.

Rafe tilted his head toward you, ignoring Barry completely. “How the fuck do you know this fucker?”

You had to bite your lip not to smirk at the way he immediately got so worked up.

“Easy, pretty boy,” Barry cut in before you could even respond, clearly amused. “You better be nice to that lady or I’ll beat your rich ass.” He tapped his own cheek. “That bruise of yours? Don’t wanna end up with a matching one on the other side.”

OH. MY. GOD.

The butterflies in your stomach that usually went berserk for Rafe? Yeah, a few of them were dancing for Barry now. Because Dealer Barry stepping up for you in front of Dumbass Rafe? That was… kinda sweet, not gonna lie.

Rafe furrowed his brows, clutching the strap of his backpack like a schoolboy on his first day, about to throw a tantrum because he didn’t wanna go.

He squinted at you. “So what—you're secretly a fucking crackhead now, or what am I supposed to take from this?”

Seriously. Did this guy ever think before he spoke? Like, he literally dealt coke and snorted it himself, but you’re the crazy one?

At this point, you should question your own sanity for even crushing on this guy.

But the funny part wasn’t how hypocritical he was being, no, it was the fact that he chose to go after you instead of Barry despite him basically threatening Rafe. And there was no way Rafe would let a chance pass to put another guy in his place.

Which made the whole thing even more entertaining because, for once, he clearly didn’t have the upper hand. Usually, he carried this presence, this aura, that screamed “look at me wrong and I’ll beat your ass.”

But here? He seemed small.

Like a hyena baring its teeth at a lion.

Rafe Cameron, proud Kook and official Pogue-hater, actually keeping his mouth shut in front of little pawn shop owner Barry? Fucking hilarious.

“No. Sometimes I'm just tagging along when Cara's picking up her weed,” you said amused, watching the gears in Rafe’s brain grind themselves into dust.

“Miss Fancy Boots actually dropped by earlier,” Barry said. “Had her little mutt with her too.” He made a cupping motion in front of his chest, smiling all big. “Top barely holding on for dear life. Wouldn’t even tell me which backwood shack she was visiting.”

Oh, she was really trying to bag JJ Maybank this time. Best of luck, bestie.

You chuckled, but Rafe beat you to a response with a scowl, stepping forward and dropping his backpack on the counter. “Okay, fuck this. I’m not here to fucking chit-chat.”

Barry gave him a look, something sharp flashing in his eyes, but then he just laughed and peeked into the backpack. “Keep running that mouth and I’ll tell Lil’ Alley Cat who was whining on my couch just a few days ago.” He pushed the backpack back toward Rafe and nodded to the right. “Now move your ass to Larna. She's gonna take care of the rest.”

Rafe smiled bitterly, shaking his head. “Nah, that's not what—”

“I’m in a good mood today, Country Club,” Barry cut in, tapping the counter. “Don’t make me introduce you to the girl hiding under here.”

And somehow… you really didn’t think he was joking and you hoped Rafe knew how to behave.

Thankfully, he did.

With a scoff, he grabbed the backpack, threw you an unreadable look, and disappeared into the backroom where grumpy Larna was waiting.

"So, you and Country Club, huh?" Barry stepped around the counter, leaning against it with a lazy smile on his face. "Didn’t think you’d fall for a Kook prince."

After seeing his idiot side, I hadn’t thought so either.

You smiled sheepishly and adjusted the strap of your bag. “He’s not—I mean, there’s nothing going on between us.”

Barry let out an amused chuckle. “Was already wondering how he managed to get you to stick around, ‘cause that stupid boy?” He pointed his thumb toward the backroom. “Nothing but daddy issues and anger problems. Ain’t worth one look from an Alley Cat.”

Shit, that stupid nickname? Only Barry could make it sound right.

“Yeah, he’s an idiot,” you said with a soft smile, sounding like a widow reminiscing about her dead husband. “But he’s actually kinda fun to be around once you figure out how to deal with him.”

Were you seriously defending Rafe’s stupidity right now?

Barry raised his brows, eyes lighting up with the biggest grin. “Cat’s all smiley and dreamy over a boy. Didn’t think I’d see the day.”

“What? No, I just—” Heat crept up your neck and you shook your head with an embarrassed smile. “We were paired for a school project. That’s how I got to know him better.”

“Ain't seeing you doing school work right now,” Barry replied, his grin widening. “Must be serious if he’s letting you tag along to this stuff here.”

I actually annoyed him so much he just gave in.

You shook your head again, feeling like you were digging your grave deeper with every word. “No, I’m serious. This is just—”

“I’m just messing with you, Lil Kitty Cat. No need to puff your tail,” Barry said, raising his hands with a lazy chuckle. “But you should watch out. Wouldn’t call that fancy-looking boy my friend, but I know his type well enough to say—if he’s keeping you around, there’s a reason.” His tone shifted ever so slightly. “Don’t want my Alley Cat getting bitten by some spoiled hound dog.”

You eyed Barry quietly for a moment. Him warning you about Rafe stirred something strange in your gut, and part of you knew better than to ignore it.

But right now, you were too scared to question it, so all you did was offer a soft smile. “He’s more of a wired Doberman anyway. Big attitude, but pull the leash once and he gets all dramatic.”

To your surprise, Barry didn’t laugh. “A dog’s a dog. They bite if you’re not careful. And for a sweet kitty like you? That shit can turn bad real fast.” He nodded toward the backroom. “And Dobermans? You don’t wanna pull their leash too hard. Loyal and shit until they start thinking they own you. Then it ain’t cute no more. Had an uncle—couldn’t be around people without his mutt flipping out. Damn thing almost took my hand off once."

Your brows furrowed in irritation. It had been funny when Cara had joked about Rafe being possessive and jealous and all, but hearing Barry say it like a genuine warning... yeah, that hit differently.

And suddenly, Rafe’s weird behavior since yesterday started making sense.

Him getting mad when Topper asked you to come along. Him nearly beating the crap out of Rob for no reason. Him now suddenly wanting to spend time with you, being all flirty and suggestive and—oh god, please no.

Maybe this wasn’t about him liking you. Maybe he just hated the idea of someone else playing with a toy he’d throw away the moment he got bored, found another, or worse, shredded it to pieces. And until then, he'd bark at anyone reaching out for it.

The smoothie you'd drank earlier threatened to come back up. You didn’t want to be someone's toy.

“Aww, no. Didn’t mean to wipe that smile off your face, Kitty Cat,” Barry said, his lazy smile returning. “I’m just saying—be careful around a boy like that. Though, I trust you’ll know when to pull your claws out.” He knocked on the counter and chuckled. “Otherwise, just say the word, and I’ll introduce his fancy ass to my girl.”

Barry probably meant well, but your brain had already soaked up his words like a sponge, throwing them into a spiral, dragging them into the most anxious corners of your mind.

Still, you managed a smile. “No worries, Barry. I don’t think he even—”

You didn’t dare finish that sentence as Rafe came out of the backroom, a deep scowl on his face. He didn’t even look at you as he passed between you and Barry, only muttering, “Let’s go.”

“Nah, nah, nah, Country Club,” Barry said, raising his brows and pushing off the counter with a grin. “We ain’t done yet.”

Rafe stopped, turning back with a glare that practically screamed he was done with everyone. He towered over Barry, but somehow still looked small. “I got your shit. What fucking else do you wanna piss me off with?”

Barry ignored him, smiling softly at you. “Was nice seeing you again, Alley Cat. Don’t go running off too far.” He nodded toward the door. “Now get those little paws outta here, I still got some business with this boy.”

An uneasy feeling spread in your stomach, but you knew better than to argue, so you just smiled with a nod. “Yeah, see you around, Barry,” you said, trying to ignore Rafe’s burning stare on you.

You passed him quietly, trying to suppress the sudden thoughts threatening to tear open a pit you thought you’d buried not even a few days ago.

And while you’d entered Barry’s little pawn shop with a smile and warmth in your chest, you left it now with uncertainty in your eyes and a deep heavy feeling in your gut.

✿ ✿ ✿ ✿ ✿ ✿ ✿ ✿ ✿ ✿ ✿ ✿ ✿ ✿ ✿

“Okay, what the fuck is going on between you and Barry?” Rafe asked after the two of you had gotten back into the car.

And the reason for that question? Such a funny fucking story. And it started with you even knowing this fucker in the first place. You two apparently getting along—and oh, fun fact—apparently getting along really well, because guess what? Barry hadn’t kept Rafe in the shop to talk business. Oh no, he hadn’t just talked.

He had fucking threatened him.

Said stupid shit like he’d show Rafe how people in the Cut handled things when no one was looking if Rafe didn’t behave. If he dared to hurt or play with you or whatever fucking else Barry had preached like some back-alley saint.

Rafe couldn’t even wrap his head around what that fucking Pogue thought he was doing. Like if Rafe actually wanted to, he could send every cop in town straight to Barry’s crusty little pawn shop and have him write his bullshit threats on the damn cell wall.

Fuck. Like seriously, what the hell was that shit?!

You just shook your head, a weird smile on your lips that didn’t even come close to your eyes. “What? Nothing. Like I said, he’s Cara’s dealer. That’s how I got to know him.”

And now you had the audacity to lie straight to Rafe’s face in his car? Nah.

“He literally threatened to blow my brains out if I looked at you the wrong way,” Rafe said, tapping his temple with a confused laugh. “Like—what kind of crazy-ass psycho bullshit is that? And that weird-ass nickname? No way in hell he isn't your fucking boyfriend or some shit.”

The idea that you belonged to someone—Barry, of all people? That messed with Rafe’s head in ways he couldn’t even begin to explain. It filled him with such rage and confusion, he was so close to grabbing that damn backpack on the backseat, taking out a bundle of coke that stupid grandma had handed him, and snorting a line right off his Mercedes' hood.

But he was so thrown off by your sudden change of demeanor, your whole vibe completely off since Rafe had come back from the shop—strange, distant, almost... bitter—that he decided he'd rather demand some fucking answers.

And when you just smiled weakly instead of snapping back like usual, pushing his buttons, he knew something was up.

“No, that’s just how he is,” you said while buckling your seatbelt, the weird tone in your voice not sounding like you at all. “He only means well.”

Rafe blinked at you, his chest tightening as your eyes finally met his, but something was missing.

“Okay, what the fuck is going on?” he asked, his voice sharper than he meant it to be.

Your brows twitched, and there was a flicker in your gaze he couldn’t place. Again, that strange smile that didn’t fit your face. “What? Nothing,” you replied, shaking your head slightly.

Just nothing. Normally you’d say some shit like, ‘Why are you getting all worked up, I don’t owe you any explanation, blah blah’—but this? It confused Rafe. And it pissed him off that he couldn’t figure it out.

“Barry said some shit to you?” Rafe raised his brows.

That was the only logical explanation. You went in all cocky and smiley, and now you looked like someone had shot a puppy in front of you.

You shook your head again, and Rafe felt a sharp stab of disappointment from how empty you sounded. “No, I’m just tired. Guess the lack of sleep’s finally catching up,” you said with a soft smile.

Rafe clenched his jaw, fingers tapping against the console. He was this close to snapping, but he didn’t want to yell. You’d probably shut down completely. Wheezie did the same thing when Dad started raising his voice and Rafe hated witnessing that.

“Okay, something’s clearly bothering you,” he said, forcing himself to keep his voice steady. “You’re always on about how important it is to talk shit out, and now you’re the one being all weird.”

Seriously, why did your behavior even bother him in the first place? Normally when some chick was trynna act sulky he’d drop her off at her place or kick her out immediately because he didn’t care about that shit.

But with you, he somehow couldn’t and that irritated the fuck out of him. Probably because I deserve some fucking answers.

“There’s nothing to solve because there’s no issue,” you finally said softly, clearly bullshitting.

Rafe clenched his jaw, running through every possible reason why you were suddenly acting like this. “Fuck that. There’s obviously an issue.” He tapped his chest with his fingers. “Did I say something that got the minions in your head running again? Shit, I was just pissed earlier because—”

“No, really. Everything's—”

“Fine? Don’t bullshit me. You were all bold and mouthy earlier and now?” Rafe furrowed his brows, trying to understand what the fuck was going on in your head. “Now you’re acting all wilted and melancholic like Topper after some chick rejects him.”

That got a chuckle out of you, and Rafe felt his features soften.

“I’m not acting wilted,” you said, a little amusement finally slipping back into your voice.

Rafe nodded. “You are. I’m guessing Barry ran his stupid mouth while I was gone.” He narrowed his eyes, another thought hitting him. “Or did that fucker creep on you?”

“What? Oh my god, no,” you replied, shaking your head, puzzled. “No, it’s just…” You held his gaze like you were the one with questions. After a second, you looked down at your fidgeting hands, a faint smile tugging at your lips. “I guess you’re right. I’m probably just creating a problem in my head that doesn’t even exist.”

Rafe frowned. “What the fuck did he say?”

You looked up, pretty eyes somehow carrying that sad little shine again, and Rafe had to fight the sudden urge to storm back into Barry’s shitty shop and drag the guy’s face across the counter.

“I...He didn’t exactly say it… I mean, I’d already been wondering...,” you started, clearly struggling to continue.

Rafe was so fucking close to losing it. He shook his head and gestured to his chest again. “What, huh? Me dealing coke? Is that what suddenly has you all scared? Shit, I’m not some criminal like Barry, okay? I just—”

"No, that's not it", you cut in, voice lacking your usual attitude. "I mean, sure, it's—"

"Holy fucking shit, just spit it out." Rafe couldn't bear you dancing around the answer any longer. Aggressively he gestured toward the pawn shop. "If Barry didn't fucking harass you then I seriously can't fucking imagine what's got you acting like this."

You pressed your lips together, eyes wide, brows raised like some deer about to get shot. "I don't know how to phrase it without it sounding like I'm ... delusional or crazy."

Rafe scoffed amused, both hands gesturing toward you. "Shit, you are crazy. Now fucking spit it out or I'm driving the car into the next fucking tree."

"Okay," you replied with a laugh, the smile quickly fading as your gaze drifted to the fidgeting fingers in your lap. "Okay, I just—" You seemed to take a deep breath in. "What's your business with me?"

Rafe blinked. “What?”

“I…” You pressed your lips together, clutching your bag tighter. “I’m not saying there is any business," you said, a nervous chuckle escaping. "I’m just… confused. I mean, I know we’ve had this conversation before. I know it’s stupid, I’m just…”

You furrowed your brows, meeting his eyes again. “You need to understand, I’m not trying to piss you off. I mean, you're probably right. It’s just my brain spiraling over nothing again. It's just… shit, I know this here is completely casual, I mean we aren't even friends, I just..."

You let out a strained breath, voice unsteady. “I’m not trying to accuse you of anything. I really don’t wanna come across like I’m assuming something’s going on in the first place. I mean, you already think I’m crazy,” you said, a distant smile tugging at your lips. “But obviously it’s totally fine if you’re only looking for a chance at some temporary fun. It’s just… in the hypothetical case you actually do expect something to happen...”

Another awkward laugh slipped out, and you sank into your seat, brows furrowed as you smiled nervously, “God, this is so embarrassing. I’m sorry, I probably sound—”

“Holy fucking shit, you need to chill the fuck out,” Rafe cut in, staring at you like you’d lost your damn mind. Because this? How much fucking longer did you wanna go on?

This was absolutely insane. The way your brain made up all this shit. How the fuck did you even function at all?

He pointed to his temples, eyes wide. “Seriously, this is not just borderline crazy. This is straight-up insane. I mean I am going insane just by listening to this."

“Well yeah, that’s actually what I was trying to say,” you muttered, hands fiddling in your lap. “I just don't understand why you'd wanna hang out with me if I'm getting on your nerves—unless there's some other motive.”

Jesus Christ. Rafe didn’t know anyone with this level of anxiety and overthinking. Not even Wheezie came close.

But that wasn’t what really pissed him off.

Sure, if you were a little nuts, fine. It was even kind of amusing, honestly. At least you had the brains to think about shit.

No, what really pissed him off was that you were questioning him, even after he’d already told you the answer to this topic in school just a few days ago. He'd just tried to help you by suggesting to work at Tannyhill for the next project session but you fucking declined because you'd thought he was just trying to hook up with you.

Okay, yeah, maybe at this point the idea of sleeping with you wasn't exactly unwelcome—though with your nerves, you'd both probably have a mental breakdown halfway through—but it wasn’t about that.

It was about the fucking principle.

You were acting like his word meant nothing. Like he was just some lying, sleazy, piece-of-shit Pogue.

Rafe clenched his jaw, using every ounce of self-control not to snap. “There's no fucking other motive. You make it sound like I'm plotting some crazy-ass shit.”

Your brows twitched, lips pressing together. Somehow, you still didn’t look satisfied.

For a moment, you just stared at him, hesitation flickering in your eyes, but then your voice came out soft, so soft it made Rafe's chest tighten in a way he didn’t like. “I’m not trying to be annoying or—”

“You are,” Rafe interrupted, surprised by the lack of bite in his tone. His face twisted and he raised his shoulders, gesturing at his chest. “Like, I don’t fucking get why you’re questioning me when I already told you—”

“I know.” You nodded, frustration leaking into your voice. “I know and I really appreciate it, but I just… it’s my brain, okay?” You tapped your finger against your temple. “It talks shit and I start believing it and I just can’t stop it. And then I get anxious—especially when someone gives it something to chew on—and it’s just so frustrating because I'm definitely not trying to piss you off, I don’t wanna ruin—I mean, I’m just asking for some reassurance, that’s all.”

Your brows knit together. “But then again, I don’t want some fake reassurance either if you actually—”

“Jesus fucking Christ, I like hanging out with you, okay?” Rafe pressed his lips together as the words left his mouth, not even sure why the fuck he’d said them. Why he even cared enough to listen to all this bullshit. But right now, all he wanted was to shut you the fuck up, so he didn’t bother filtering.

“I’m not trying to get in your pants, alright?” he added, wearing an irritated, almost amused smile. “I’d have to be fucking desperate to put up with all your messed-up crazy shit just for the chance to hook up with you. That's... fuck, I’m not that needy.”

He gestured to you, frustration seeping through his voice. “You piss me off, but I can deal with it. Shit, I think I even like it. You’re not some boring-ass gossip bitch like Ruthie.” He furrowed his brows, refusing to unpack what the hell that meant, now tapping his chest with his fingertips, voice strained. “But what I can’t fucking stand is not being taken seriously.”

Judging by your face, he hadn’t just shut your brain off, he’d completely nuked it. Your eyes were wide, lips pressed tight, and even your fidgeting had stopped.

He half expected you to start crying for whatever reason, but thank fuck you didn’t. You just frowned, that softness still in your expression. “I do take you seriously. That’s why I'm so confused. All these… I don’t know, suggestive comments and stuff. You say you don’t mean anything by it, but then you’re all teasing the next second. It’s confusing.”

Seriously, had you ever even interacted with a boy before Rafe?

He let out a frustrated smile, nodding. “Shit, yeah, ever heard of fucking flirting? That’s the thing people do because it’s fun. It doesn’t fucking have to lead to anything.” Rafe raised his brows. “Unless you want it to.”

And there it was again—that shift in you. Your whole vibe changed, whenever he said shit like this. And he couldn’t fucking tell if you were flustered, uncomfortable, or just weirded out.

You shook your head, a nervous laugh bubbling up like he’d asked you to strip in the backseat. “Of course, I know what flirting is. It’s just—In my head, this feels like… I don’t know mixed signals or whatever and—“

“Okay, fuck. Stop.” Rafe had hit his limit. He ran a hand over his face, voice tight with frustration. “I’m only saying this once, so fucking listen, alright?” He gestured to you again. “I fuck with you. You’re somehow fun to be around, even though you’re literally the least chill person I know.”

His brows twitched, a moment of hesitation flickering across his face, but he pushed through. He wasn’t gonna overthink—he wasn’t you. “And shit, yeah, of course, I’m flirting with you. You’re a cute chick. If you said the word, I’d be down to bend you over in the backseat right now, but why the fuck would I waste my energy on someone who’s clearly not into casual shit.”

Fuck. Now that he’d said it, he felt just as stunned as you looked.

Saying these words out loud ... it angered him. He'd basically just given in to you. But the thing that actually riled him up? The fact he'd just acknowledged out loud that he knew you weren't interested in him. That he couldn't get you into bed with some charm and a little flirting. That you were out of reach.

And fuck, this just made hanging out with you all the more confusing because why the fuck did he enjoy this shit if he was well aware that he wouldn't take you home later for some quick fun.

But worse than all of that was the way he found himself waiting.

Desperate for your response. Hoping you’d push back. Hoping you’d say something—anything—to let him know he'd just interpreted your signals wrong, that, yes, you did indeed find him attractive, that you actually enjoyed his presence, his flirts, and teasing. That you'd love to be his new friends-with-benefits-chick.

Jesus fucking Christ, he should go back inside Barry’s store and beat the shit out of that fucker for whatever the fuck he'd said to you that made you spiral this hard, and now Rafe was out here saying and thinking shit like this.

"Okay, now I'm even more confused," you said, smiling awkwardly. "You say you like spending time with me but at the same time, you also feel like you're wasting your time here."

Rafe was so close to smashing his head against the steering wheel. He raised his hands in exasperation. "And you say you're not trying to piss me off but right now I'm so close to losing my shit."

He aggressively tapped his finger on the middle console. "I just tried telling you that I'm not here because I'm looking for a chance at a fucking hookup, okay? Seriously, how much clearer do I need to be?"

“Okay. Just to clarify, for my own sanity,” you started slowly, voice soaked in nervous energy (Rafe was literally one second away from having a fucking stroke). “You like hanging out with me but according to your logic, you're not someone who's wasting his time with a girl if you're not gaining something from it."

With a pained expression, Rafe closed his eyes, pinching the bridge of his nose, and nodded with a distressed "Uh-huh".

Maybe if he just continued agreeing with you, then you'd finally shut up, because clearly snapping back only seemed to continue dragging on this horrible limbo of yours.

Some strained chuckle escaped your lips. "And considering you're still asking me to chill with you even though you seem to be aware that I don't wanna be someone's pastime, does that mean… I mean, is what you're hoping to gain from spending time with me… a friendship?"

Rafe's head snapped up.

That was your fucking conclusion to all of this?

Fucking hell. Did he look like someone in need of more clingy idiots crowding his life? Topper and Kelce were already enough and he didn’t even receive anything in return for dealing with their bullshit.

And having a female friend without getting to bend her over once in a while? He'd never even considered it. The only girls Rafe had ever privately hung out with were the ones he'd benefit from.

And all of them either got so fucking annoying, he'd dropped them, or worse—they'd wanted more. Dates, gifts, PDA. A label. The title of Rafe Cameron's girlfriend.

They all wanted the benefits that came of being with him but none of them had actually wanted him.

But you? Well, he had to admit you were different. You didn’t do hookups. You didn’t chase him because of his last name and the benefits that came with it.

And the crazy part? That just fucking pissed him off more.

Because for some fucked-up reason he'd actually learned to tolerate your presence enough that he could deal with your crazy-ass brain outside of the project despite him not receiving some fun time in return. And now you assumed he wanted this to actually result in some permanent shit.

But for whatever reason, the idea that this might be over after handing in your project next week? That actually stirred something weird in his chest.

Right now, Rafe could still claim the project was the reason for you two spending time together (if you ignored the fact you weren't doing school shit at the moment). Sure, he’d admitted he liked you—but everything about the way you two had been hanging out this past week could still be chalked up to the assignment. But once that was over… then what?

Fuck, all of this was giving him a headache. And now you were pressuring him to define whatever the fuck was going on between the two of you.

Rafe shook his head in irritation. "Why do you even need a fucking label for some casual hangout? Can't we just fucking chill?"

You gestured to your chest, a distressed smile on your face. "Yeah, of course. I just… my brain needs to make sense of this somehow, so I can place this in either ‘okay, this ends when the project’s over’ or ‘alright, get ready to make space for this person, they’re gonna stick around.’ It’s fucking stupid, I know, but it helps me adjust to new people."

This right here was the biggest fucking test of patience in Rafe's entire life and he was so fucking sick of you demanding him to clarify shit when you were the one that made him question his sanity.

"Shit, I don't fucking know, alright?" Rafe raised his shoulders with an irritated smile. "I mean what the fuck do you want? You’re calling me confusing, but I don’t even fucking know if you actually like me or if you’re just tagging along because you’re too scared to decline because of some people-pleasing bullshit or whatever.”

Like he'd admitted all this fucking shit just now, but why didn't you? Why didn't you offer him some reassurance?

Your gaze softened, and that only irritated him more.

“I'm actually very capable of saying 'No',” you replied.

“Yeah, the fuck do I know.” Rafe threw his hands up. And then, a disgusting thought crossed his mind. “Or are you just tagging along because you're hoping for some attention of being seen with me?”

Finally, your frown returned—thank god. That little bit of fire he was used to.

“What? No!” You shook your head, clearly confused. “Aside from the fact that I couldn’t care less about shit like that, I’d rather jump off a cliff than draw unnecessary attention to myself.” Your expression softened again, lips quirking into a crooked smile. “I came along because I wanted to. Not because I’m trying to get some pics snapped of me being seen with an A-List celebrity.”

Just say it, Rafe thought, not even caring about your stupid comment. You were so fucking close to saying it. Tiptoeing on the edge of it. So damn close to saying what he needed to hear.

But you didn’t. And it pissed him off. Fucked with his head. Just—

Fuck all of that.

Maybe it sounded pathetic, maybe it was, but he didn’t care. He had to know. “So you actually do like hanging out with me?”

A soft laugh left your lips and your brows knit slightly. “Yes? I’m not spending my time with people I can’t stand.”

And just like that, something in Rafe finally let go. He exhaled a breath he hadn’t even realized he’d been holding. It felt like a win—even though he hadn’t actually won anything. Actually, he’d probably lost some fucking braincells discussing that shit.

He sank back into his seat, staring through the windshield, running a hand through his hair, no fucking energy left after this marathon of a discussion.

He tilted his head toward you with furrowed brows, motioning between the two of you. “So where’s the fucking problem, huh? We both like hanging out and neither of us is hiding some secret agenda or some shit.”

You smiled awkwardly. “Except you literally said—”

“Yeah, I know what I fucking said,” Rafe cut in, already regretting having voiced that he'd be down to bend you over. But whatever. It was out there now, so who the fuck cared.

“I’m not some horny perv who's unable to be in a room with a chick without trying to get in her pants,” he added, a lopsided smirk tugging at his lips. “Doesn’t mean I’m gonna pass up on a little flirting and teasing.”

You raised your brows slightly, chin tilting downward. "So—"

"YES, for fuck’s sake!" Rafe raised his hands, shifting up in his seat, absolutely at the end of his rope. "If that helps to end this fucking stupid discussion, then yes please, go ahead and tell your crazy-ass brain it can open a new fucking folder titled ‘I made Rafe Cameron lose his fucking mind to the point where I force-befriended him’. And put some big-ass lock on it because that shit stays closed from now on."

He let out a strained breath, an exasperated smile twitching on his lips. "There. Does this shut you up or do I need to craft you a fucking friendship bracelet with my name on it?”

The worst part: The image of you wearing his name around your wrist sparked fucking JOY in his fucking chest for some fucked-up reason.

SEE. YOU'RE MAKING HIM GO THIS FUCKING CRAZY, HE WAS GETTING EXCITED ABOUT STUPID FRIENDSHIP BRACELETS.

You just stared at him, lips parted slightly like your brain was still spiraling over the obvious. Rafe almost thought he’d have to go back into the pawn shop and ask Barry to blow his fucking brains out, but you simply shook your head, a gentle smile forming.

“I don’t think that’s necessary", you replied with a soft smile.

Rafe eyed you impatiently, waiting for you to go on and spiral into another damn monologue about how you had to figure out the right color for this mental folder, and which fucking font would best match the content—because god forbid you’d use some bullshit like Papyrus or—WHAT THE FUCK DID HE KNOW, JESUS CHRIST YOU MADE HIM THINK ABOUT THIS FUCKING BULLSHIT.

To top it all off, you had the audacity to stay quiet and Rafe could physically feel his nerves blow up. “That’s it?”

No fucking way that actually resolved this fucking discussion.

You eyed him amused like he’d just hallucinated this whole fuckass conversation. “Well, yeah.”

Rafe’s brows dropped to a scowl. “You're fucking kidding me, right?”

“No.” A small laugh left you, and that familiar glimmer was back in your eyes. “I just needed some clarity to calm my nerves. That’s just how my brain works. I’m okay as long as things make sense. But the second a thought enters my mind that could mess with that—even if it’s ridiculous—it sticks. And then it ruins the whole logic. And until the thought can be ruled out, it stays, and my head chews it up until it gets worse.”

That's it. You were officially the reason Rafe considered therapy just so someone could tell him why the fuck he even put up with your shit.

Like, seriously, Rafe had some fucked-up shit going on in his head, but you? Holy shit, if he had to deal with the crap your brain pulled every day, he’d fucking lose it.

Your head sounded like a fucking prison.

Rafe let out a distressed breath. "Now, care to tell me, what was the actual fucking reason for you spiraling this hard in the first place?" He gestured toward the pawn shop. "And don't fucking think about lying. Either you tell me or I'm gonna go back inside and beat the answer out of that fucker."

He wouldn’t, though. Barry might’ve looked like a little bum, but Rafe had seen it enough times—his threats didn’t usually stay just threats. And sure, Rafe might’ve had the upper hand physically, but Barry didn’t do fights.

He'd pull out a gun and even Rafe's fists had no chance against that.

You pressed your lips together, hesitating for a second. “He just told me to be careful around you. It wasn’t even really what he said, it was more the way he said it.” You shook your head, puzzled. “And I guess my brain just filled in the worst-case scenario because… well…” A flicker of uncertainty in your pretty eyes. “I mean, not to sound like a dick, but it’s just a fact that you don’t really hang out with girls. And when you do it’s like... you know.”

Yeah, that was true. Rafe didn’t deny it. But still, why the fuck did you have this fucking player image of him?

Sure, he did hookups once in a while—every few weeks maybe at some random party. And yeah, he’d had friends with benefits, but like four or five times at most in his whole damn life. But the way you made it sound? Like he was out here fucking someone new every night.

“So instead of just asking me straight up what’s going on, you’d rather fucking… what? Sulk and act weird as hell? What kind of childish reaction is that?” Rafe asked, face twisting in frustration.

You let out a short laugh. “I didn’t wanna piss you off by bringing this up. Which, clearly, I did.”

“Well, yeah, because I practically had to beat the answer out of you,” Rafe said with a scowl, motioning to his chest. “What actually pisses me off is when people won’t just say what the fuck they're trying to say.”

You nodded sheepishly. “Yeah, makes sense. I’m sorry for making this so messy.” A soft chuckle slipped out. “I guess we both value clear answers… just on different scales.”

Yeah, except Rafe didn’t have a mental breakdown when he didn’t get one.

“I just don’t fucking understand why you can’t just ignore these fucking thoughts,” he said, oddly calm for some reason. "When some shit starts bothering me, I just fucking ignore it. If I need to make a decision, I just do it. If some asshole pisses me off? I put him in his fucking place.”

He scoffed. “And your brain sounds like one big asshole. You just gotta show it who's boss.”

Surprisingly, you laughed—soft, genuine—and Rafe blinked, confused.

“What?” he asked. “I’m serious. It’s absolutely insane that your own mind is your worst enemy. That’s fucking fucked-up.”

He gestured to himself. “I mean that dude pisses me off so badly, I wanna smash his face into a wall just to get him to shut the fuck up. How the fuck do you let him pull this shit on you?”

“That’s—” You laughed again, and something weird flipped in Rafe’s stomach. “I appreciate the energy,” you said, “but honestly, I’m already good when people just have a little patience with me.”

Your expression grew distant. “When I bring stuff like this up, I’m not trying to be annoying. I’m just genuinely trying to find clarity in the chaos up here.” You tapped your temple, smiling gently again. “That’s why I really appreciate that you actually talked with me this time—even though I’m sure you wanted to smash my head through the window.”

He'd rather have your head pressed against some sheets to let go of this fucking pressure inside him but Rafe forced this thought down (see? easy).

So he just shook his head. “I did but I’d rather not have your dad on my ass because of that. That dude’s got some crazy aura.”

Another laugh slipped from your lips, and Rafe felt his features soften. “I guess. He served as a combat medic in the military, so I think some of that still lingers beneath the surface.”

Shit, that made sense. Rafe knew there was a reason that guy had given him the creeps the first time he'd looked at him. He seemed nice, sure—kind even—but deep down Rafe was certain that man could knock someone out cold with a single punch.

The weird thing was: Rafe actually felt less tense around him than around his own dad.

“Shit, another reason to keep my hands off you,” Rafe muttered with a low chuckle. “Don’t need Liam Neeson in Taken chasing me down.”

Another laugh. And damn, that made Rafe feel like some kind of winner.

“I doubt you have to worry", you said. "He actually seemed to like—”

Your phone started buzzing inside your bag.

"Cara," you said when you pulled it out with an apologetic smile. “I should take this.”

Rafe gave a reluctant nod, even though the sudden interruption annoyed the fuck out of him.

“What’s up?” you said, holding the phone to your ear. After a beat, you added, “I’m with Rafe.”

His head snapped up like he’d been struck by lightning.

That was... he couldn’t remember you ever saying his name out loud before. And now that he’d heard it—coming from your sweet voice—fuck.

It did something to him. A weird kind of something. Buzzing in his stomach, warmth blooming in his chest, and this deep, unfamiliar ache for something he couldn’t quite name.

“Really?” You laughed. “We’re actually close by—Yeah, at Barry’s—Girl, no—Yeah, I know he told me—Yeah, I know I was the one who asked you—Okay, yeah, sure—So I assume you're with—yep, thought so—Okay—Seriously?—Alright—Yeah, nah, let’s not.” You laughed again. “Okay—Yeah, see you in a bit.”

You hung up, your whole presence lighting back up.

“Sorry,” you said with a soft smile, slipping the phone back into your bag. “She’s at the beach nearby and asked me to join her. Or well... I kinda asked her earlier if we could hang out, so....”

Rafe felt a frown creeping in, disappointment taking over his entire body. You were about to fucking ditch him.

He raised his brows. “Now?”

You nodded, toying with your bag strap. “Well... yeah. She needs some backup.”

“What, her boots got stuck in the sand or some shit?”

You shook your head, chuckling. “No, she’s with some people and… well, she needs help with a boy.”

“Her?” Rafe scoffed, disbelieving. “She’s the most upfront and confrontational person I’ve ever met. What the fuck does she need help with?” He tilted his head. “And didn’t she have some thing going on with Topper?”

“Yeah, I don’t know,” you said, holding your hands up in amusement. “She’s super complicated when it comes to that stuff.”

Girls. Rafe didn’t fucking get them.

“So what, you want me to drop you off now?” He didn't even try to hide his disappointment.

Your smile faltered slightly. “Well, yeah, that’d be nice.”

Rafe clenched his jaw. You were actually going to leave him now—after he'd helped you get rid of your hangover, after he’d actually shown patience and calmed the voices in your head, after all his nerves were fried beyond repair.

You were scared he might play you? Nah, he was the one who felt toyed with right now.

But as much as Rafe wanted to call you out for it, snap at you for being all anxious and now daring to pull this shit, he just didn’t have it in him. No strength left. He really didn’t have the fucking energy or patience for another long-ass conversation with you monologuing about shit.

Sure, he could just decide to tag along, because when did Rafe ever ask for permission, but his gut told him that was a weird fucking move. He wasn't your fucking dog to accompany you everywhere.

Fuck, he didn't fucking know how to handle shit with a girl like you.

So he just nodded, buckled up, and started the engine. Letting out a tight breath as he pulled out of the parking lot, he asked, “Where to?”

You hesitated for a second. “Do you know where the western beach of the Cut is?”

Rafe scoffed and nearly stopped the car. You’ve got to be fucking kidding me.

Of course, he knew where that fucking beach was. Sarah always went there after school to hang out with her stupid little Pogue friends.

So yeah, he could already guess exactly what kind of people Cara was hanging out with: those annoying-ass rats.

The thing that pissed him off the most wasn’t even you ditching him. It wasn’t driving you around like a damn chauffeur. It wasn’t even that you were trading him for a group of Pogue losers.

Nah. It was the fact that Sarah had once again managed to stick her nose into shit that didn’t fucking concern her. Because somehow this reeked of her meddling.

And the worst part? It felt like she was winning again. Like she’d won over their dad, like she'd won over Kie during her time at Kildare Academy by turning her against Rafe just for them to end up having some bitchy fallout shortly after.

Like she’d get to win you over too with some fake-ass bullshit.

And you, being prone to falling for shit like that with that brain of yours, would probably believe her too. Not because you were naive, nah, but because your head would probably soak Sarah's sweet words up, falling back into a spiral over Rafe's intention or some bullshit.

Fuck.

Rafe actually liked this weird acquaintanceship with you (THERE, THAT'S THE LABEL THAT FIT THIS SHIT). He didn’t need Sarah to ruin that—or worse—take you from him. Pull you into her little shitty-ass, feel-good Pogue bullshit friend group.

And the most fucked up thing? You weren’t even his. But the very thought of Sarah turning you against him anyway?

Nah. He wouldn't let that happen.

You said Rafe was hoping to gain some shitty-ass friendship from this? Fine. If that’s what it took for your brain to hold on to Rafe, he’d gladly be your fucking friend.

He’d throw every goddamn principle he had out the window before he let Sarah take something else from him before he even had a chance to claim it for himself.

Because for the first time in years, Rafe actually felt like he didn't wanna let go of a girl. Nah, he actually wanted to keep you around. Not as some warm body in his bed—it fucked with his head that you weren’t into hookups but he could accept that—but because somehow, you were the first girl who didn't hang on his ass to brag to her friends later about getting to ride his dick.

Shit, if he didn’t know any better, he’d think you were either a lesbian or just completely uninterested in sex altogether. Which only messed with his head even more, because if both of you were here willingly, what the fuck was the point if no one was gaining anything from it?

Like, why the fuck did Rafe feel this pull toward you? Not just sexually… more like—fuck, he didn’t even know. He also couldn't compare it to the short-lived whatever-thing he'd had with Kie either because he'd only ever seen her as some extension of Sarah that he tolerated. Thinking of her even remotely sexual had just felt fucking weird.

But you? Being around you came close to landing a hole-in-one during golfing, the feeling after being praised by his dad, the way his body buzzed after a line of coke. Which honestly made him wonder if the perfume you were wearing was laced with chemicals or some shit that messed with his head like that.

Fuck, this? Him thinking about this shit at all—that was your fucking fault.

Rafe just knew he liked having you around so there was no need to let you go.

For now.

So as much as he hated, despised, and loathed the idea of you ditching him for some beach party with dirty-ass Pogues and Princess Sarah, by now, he'd learned that if he kept his temper in check, his patience with you would pay off.

Shit, he'd even add a little bonus.

So, when you'd asked if he knew the way, he shot you a raised brow and a casual side-eye, and in the most unbothered tone he said, “Yeah, it’s just down the road. Assuming your friend's succeeding with that guy, I’m guessing you’re gonna need someone to pick you up later.”

And when your brows twitched and your eyes lit up, Rafe knew he was one step closer to keeping you around for real.

✿ ✿ ✿ ✿ ✿ ✿ ✿ ✿ ✿ ✿ ✿ ✿ ✿ ✿ ✿

K M S M A S T E R L I S T | <- P R E V I O U S | N E X T ->

✿ ✿ ✿ ✿ ✿ ✿ ✿ ✿ ✿ ✿ ✿ ✿ ✿ ✿ ✿

T A G L I S T F O R M (taglist for this series is CLOSED but you can sign up for my other stuff through this link)

@ursogorgeous13 @my-name-is-baby @moneybaby07 @jjasmiineee @sttaejoon-blog @vogueprincess @princesspeaxhh @wtfisastiles @wefelldowntherabbithole13 @rafes4 @kathryn-maraudersversion @wuluhwuhmaster @torturedtypewritersdept @sfotiegiuls @ltristessedureratoujours @stoned-writer @lunaleah @akobx @cokewithcameron @b00klvrs @rafesdrew @mattyskies @yktayy9669 @beabafreakbee @c1gsafterwhat @drewstarkeyswife-7 @wtfdudesblog @akobx @wintercrows @miaaaoa @setmefreemyg @pogueprincesa @chimchimjiminie16 @drewstarkeysrightarm @wtfdudesblog @wolfstarsimpxx @emmiesummers @brycesfav @ayy1234567 @rgeraldg @stanseventeen @louvrgirl @chaoticromantic @drewstarkeysrealwife @drewstarkeyswifehoe @psychicnatural @mysticbby2009 @oreocheescake-12 @miniiminie @drunkinthemiddleoftheday @drewstarkeyywife

[blusapphire]

Forever (Bucky Barnes x Reader)

Summary: The promise of forever had wrecked you once. Bucky hadn’t thought that forever was possible for him, but he wants it…with you. If you’ll have him. 

A/N: This is my first one-shot and I had so much fun writing this! Please comment and reblog! 💕

Warnings: Mild Swearing, Angst

Banner by: @uzmacchiato

Your hands flew up to block the stack of photographs that flew towards you and almost hit your face, the prints drifting in the air before falling at your feet in the penthouse apartment. 

You sighed sharply, annoyed with the fact that you had just had pictures flung towards you, and annoyed at the woman who had tossed them at you, as she furiously marched back and forth through the apartment. 

You rested your hands on your sides just before the woman hissed at you. 

“You, are unbelievable!”

You rolled your eyes at the client, not wanting to go back and forth with the woman any further, as you had been for the past fifteen minutes. 

“M’am, the proof is in the pictures-“

“Pictures that were forged! That you forged!”

You pinched the bridge of your nose, your frustration growing by the minute. The woman continued her furious marching back and forth, shaking her head. 

“You just put them together, somehow,” she desperately claimed. “Because you couldn’t find anything worth reporting and needed the money.”

The woman came to a strong halt in front of you, paying no mind to the pictures that her heels pressed into. 

“You’re wrong,” she said, a bit of uncertainty in her tone, and her eyes glossy as she glared at you. “You need to follow him again.”

Another sigh left your lips as you looked at the woman, a softer one this time around. 

This was one of the hardest parts of the job. The part you hated. Clients hire you to find out whatever’s happening with their spouse or partner, only to be unprepared for the results. Sometimes, your clients could patch things up, and work their way through whatever it was they were going through. Sometimes, it was easy for the couple to part ways- as easy as it could be anyway-with no strings attached. 

But in this case, marriage was involved. And in her particular case, you didn’t think there was any hope of her and her husband working things out. If they had eventually decided to rekindle, it would be through monitored phone calls and weekly visitations. 

But you doubted her relationship even had a chance of surviving, though. 

You were willing to bet on it. 

You felt for the woman. The same as you did for the same cases-which were many- that ended in the same way. It was hard having see the woman stand before you, tears threatening to spill over, as she wished with everything she had, that you were wrong. 

But you knew that deep down, she knew you were right. And that the pictures she had launched at you in denial, were very much real. 

You reached down to pick up one of the candid photos, regret filling you. The particular photo had been the dealbreaker, and had proven your previous theory of the client’s situation, one that you had formed weeks ago. 

“Look,” you began, trying to let the woman down as easily as you could. “I know it’s not easy to hear. And It’s likely the worst shit you’ve ever had to hear or find out.”

The client averted her gaze, refusing to meet your eyes. But you had a job to do, the job that she paid you for. 

Or at least, paid you half for. 

“It’s likely this has been going on for months. And instead of using the last ounce of dignity he had left to come clean, he decided to be a piece of shit, and paid someone to deal with his problems. The only way these rich assholes know how to get through life.”

The woman’s teary eyes fell to you after you said this, and you had taken in the luxury apartment you were standing in at the moment, as well as the woman’s expensive attire, which had probably cost more money than you had ever come across. 

“No offense...”

The woman let out a light chuckle, not one that was humorous, but one that harbored defeat. 

“None taken…” she admitted, a few of the tears that had been held in her eyes finally spilling over. She was able to keep her composure though, before ultimately sitting on the floor, her eyes skimming through the photos that were scattered around. 

“I knew it…” she whispered to herself. “Deep down, I knew it. He wants to run away with his mistress and makes arrangements to have me killed…”

You felt yourself frown a bit as you watched the woman come to terms with what she knew, and a sense of familiarity hit you. You had felt for her. 

You were her at one point. 

Thankfully though, minus the murder attempt. 

And you could guess that her marriage hadn’t always been at this point. Who would ever get married if it had started this way? 

And with that in mind, you offered what you could. 

“Look, I’m sorry. But,” you reluctantly started. “I would get on the phone with the police, right now, if I were you and…” you paused, a sigh leaving you. “It’s hard. It will be, but it gets better. Eventually…”

You could visibly see your words resonated with her, and she wiped the tears that covered her cheeks, and quickly stood. 

“I won’t keep you any longer. Here,” she walked over the large coffee table where her bag purse sat, pulling out a pen and a checkbook. She scribbled on a page, before ripping it off and politely handing it to you. 

“Thank you,” she said, wiping away the rest of the tears. “And I’m sorry about the pictures.”

You nodded, assuring her that it was okay, surprised that it was the only way she had lashed out. 

You could call the case successful, as you left the woman’s apartment. The client had been searching for answers, and you delivered. You could call it successful, but it didn’t make it any less disheartening. No matter how much you had gotten paid. 

And it didn’t make each case that was similar to this one sting any less for you. 

The buzz of your phone has stolen your attention for a moment, and you stopped with a smile before pulling it out of your back pocket to read what you knew was a text from the person who always made your face light up. 

Bucky:

Hey. Are we still on for tonight?

The text made you smile grow even wider, and took your mind off the memory that threatened to ruin your night. Excitement rang through you as you answered the text, along with determination to figure out why your boyfriend had been acting weird all week.

And tonight, you finally might’ve figured out why. 

You:

Duh. I’ll be back home in an hour ; )

You let out a laugh at Bucky’s attempt and miserable fail to send a smiley face in reply to your message, noting the age joke you would have to make to him later. 

Bucky had been acting weird lately. 

Very weird. 

He didn’t think that you noticed his change in behavior, but you would’ve had to be blind not to notice. 

The two of you had missed each other all week, with Bucky either on back to back missions, or you swamped with cases. This was the first time all week the two of you had had any time to spend together, and you were soaking up every second of it. 

“Ha-Ha, very funny,” Bucky said in a dry tone, a crooked smile on his lips. “You're hilarious. Really.”

You dodged the cheese puff that had been weakly tossed at you by Bucky as he planted himself on the couch next to you, a giggle leaving your lips. 

“I’m sorry, but I had to,” you said, your laugh cutting through your sentence. “But gotta admit-that was a good one.”

Bucky paused, a small smirk forming. 

“Yeah,” he said, nodding. “That was pretty good.” 

Your laughter faded, and so did his, but his smile remained as he locked eyes with you. He looked at you, really looked at you, and there was silence. It wasn’t an awkward silence, it was warm-a comfortable one. Bucky leaned in and his lips met yours, soft but firmly. The kiss lasted all but a few seconds, but it left you breathless. 

You could feel the lingering smile that was left on Bucky’s lips as he pulled away, his eyes still on you. 

“I’ve been wanting to do that all week.”

Bucky stayed closer than usual, and just…stared at you. He looked like he was in a daze, or dream as his deep blue eyes gazed right at you, eyes tracing your face. His smile never once left his lips, and you were starting to grow concerned, when he finally spoke. 

“I love you…”

That was exactly what you were talking about. 

That was weird. 

You had heard the three words from him hundreds of times, but this one, like many other ones this week, had sounded…off. 

You squinted in confusion, speaking. 

“Uh…I love you too…?

Your words seemed to have no effect though, as Bucky continued to simply…stare at you. He must have not realized how long he was staring, or that he was staring in the first place, and when you called his name, a few times at that, he seemed to snap out of the daze he was in. 

“Sorry,” he said, as he shook his head. “Uh-What were we doing before I got completely distracted?”

Your eyebrows furrowed, confused, but you brushed the moment off. You stole a few glances at Bucky throughout the night, and ultimately decided to let it go. Until later on…

“So…” Bucky paused, a question at his lips. “Why is it called The Office, if they barely ever do any work?

Bucky’s question had you letting out a laugh as you comfortably sat under his arm as it rested on your shoulders, the sitcom running in the background. 

“Well, that’s the point,” you laughed, Bucky’s face only making the sounds of laughter louder. “It’s more of a comedy than a realistic office show.”

“Huh,” Bucky whispered to himself at your explanation, and the way his brows furrowed told you he still didn’t quite get the concept. “Anyway, enough of that…”

Bucky reached for the remote and shut the tv off, and stood up heading for the kitchen, but not before pulling you along with him. 

“Hey! I was watching that!”

Bucky chuckled at your protest, and you had tons of questions as to why whatever just happened happened, but paused when Bucky had finally stopped pulling you when you reached the dining table, and you spotted two familiar containers of a desert you loved. 

Your eyes went wide as they fell to Bucky’s blue ones. 

“Shut. up.”

Bucky’s brows furrowed at your words. 

“I didn’t say anything-…”

“No, I mean,” you pointed to the dining table. “You can only get this cheesecake downtown…”

Your eyes fell to Bucky’s again. 

“Yeah, I-uh, made the stop on the way home.”

“And we couldn’t eat these in the living room while watching the office because…?”

Bucky seemed to scramble to say something, before he actually did utter something that sounded made up. 

“Well,” he threw his hand up. “We’re already in the kitchen, so…”

You opened your mouth to speak once more when Bucky was leading you away again, closer to the table this time, and stopped you right in front of the container of cheesecake. He handed you a fork before getting one for himself, and pulled a chair out for you.

You reluctantly lowered yourself in the chair across from Bucky, a wave of confusion hitting you. 

This was exactly what you were talking about. 

This was weird. 

Bucky was acting off. You could no longer brush off his bizarre behavior, and this showed when you set your fork down, brows furrowing at your boyfriend, curiosity filling you. 

And Bucky had noticed. 

“What..?”

You continued your stance as you sat back in your chair, your head tilting to the side, determined. Bucky looked visibly confused at the sudden change in your demeanor, and in his confusion, he mimicked your stance. 

“You’re being weird.”

“You started it.”

You could tell that Bucky had been at a loss for words, and scrambled to say something. 

“I-I thought that was your favorite thing about me.”

“Yeah…” you dragged out, your brows still furrowed. “But you’re acting weirder than usual. More than I’m comfortable with.”

“Uh…” Bucky once again scrambled to say something, before eventually reaching for his fork and digging into the cheesecake in front of him. “How was work…?”

You glanced around, confused at Bucky’s decision to stonewall your question. You had a feeling that simply asking what was going on would get you nowhere, so you thought you’d humor him. 

For now, anyway. 

 “Uh…well, it was a typical case. He was cheating, of course. They had married young and in the end they despised each other…and he tried to have her murdered.”

Bucky started right at you, stunned and startled by what you had just said. 

“Huh..”

“Yeah,” you sighed, finally digging into the cheesecake in front of you, vaguely noticing the way Bucky had sat up at the action, eyes focusing on you. “I just think it’s sad. The murder attempt and the cheating of course, but… I just think it’s sad to think they hadn’t started out that way. The relationship, I mean. They were headed for disaster from the moment they said ‘I do’…”

You took another bite of your cheesecake, and once again vaguely noticed a reaction from Bucky, as he suddenly stopped eating. 

“Uh, wh-what do you mean?”

You took Bucky’s question in, and paused for a moment, poking at your cake. 

You knew exactly what you meant. 

“Well,” you sighed, shrugging. “I just think that…marriage is where good-great- relationships go to die.”

“Um, wh-what do you mean?”

Bucky asked in the same tone he had previously, a mix of both anxious and shocked, as if he was caught off guard by your words. 

“I mean, it sells you a fairytale and in the end, you just end up hating each other. The same person you would’ve done anything for…you end up wanting to be as far away as possible from.”

“But they don’t…all end up that way, right?” Bucky asked, letting out a shaky little laugh as he scratched the back of his neck. “I mean, people still get married…right?

“Yeah. First timers. Cause they don’t know any better,” your tone dripping with obviousness. “If you ask me, they’re doomed right from the proposal.”

“How so…?” Bucky asked, another shaky laugh leaving him. 

“You know, the ones that are so predictable. Like at a famous landmark, like the Statue of Liberty, or the Eiffel Tower,” you started, and Bucky leaned in seeming more interested in the particular conversation. “Or the typical hiding the ring in a champagne glass, or a cake…”

Right at that moment, you noticed that Bucky had frozen. It was just enough that you had noticed it, his cheeks flushing a bit and a strained smile on his lips. 

“In a…cake?” He repeated, his voice a little higher than normal. 

You arched your brow slightly in response to his bizarre behavior, but kept going. 

“Yeah, it's just so cliche…”

Your eyes didn’t leave Bucky’s face when you spoke, and you watched as he sat up in his chair, clearing his throat. He picked up his fork and began to poke at his cake, his eyes flicking up and darting back down, occasionally stealing a look at the cheesecake that sat in front you. 

And you just couldn’t brush it off. 

“Okay, what is going on with you?”

Bucky’s gaze shot up to meet yours, and you thought you had sensed a bit of panic in his gaze, but it quickly evaporated as he changed his expression and smiled, one you thought was forced. 

“Nothing,” he shrugged, holding a smile.

You kept your gaze on him for a couple seconds, wanting to understand what was going on because you were sure that something was going on. But the only way you would get answers were through your questions that Bucky seemed to not want to answer. And with that in mind, you brushed off another unusual moment, something that was happening too often now. 

“Okay…,” you dragged out in a questioning tone, picking up your fork. “I’ll take your word for it then, I guess…”

Just before you could take another dig at the cake that sat before you, Bucky reached across the table, quickly swapping your cheesecake with his own. 

“Hey!,” you called out, throwing your hands up. “Why would you-?”

“I just thought you’d like mine better. Tastes better.”

Your brows furrowed at him. 

“But aren’t they the same-?”

Bucky wasted no time before digging into the cheesecake, your cheesecake. He dug his fork into the cake and when he brought it to his mouth, he chewed once or twice, and the third time his chewing came to a sharp halt, and he looked as if he had jolted a bit. 

Your brows furrowed even further if possible, and when Bucky came to the realization that you were watching him, he presented that same forced smile, stiff to the point of awkwardness, his eyes reflecting a kind of tension. 

“Okay…?” You said, finally taking another bite. 

You wanted to inquire forward, but the way that Bucky had brushed the matter off only made you feel as though nothing really had been going on, and that you had even imagined the moment. 

But it didn’t stop the questioning looks you gave your boyfriend for the remainder of the night. 

 6 Months Ago ~

Bucky’s POV:

Bucky didn’t mean to stare for as long as had been. But he just couldn’t help it. It had become a habit he had no interest or intention of breaking anytime soon. 

He couldn’t take his eyes off you as he watched you try -and fail- to balance the spoon on your nose, chuckling at you as you swore that you’d get it on the next try.

Moments with you were so…peaceful. Enjoyably chaotic at times, but…peaceful. Bucky was used to the chaos of missions, the fight or flight decisions that came with it, and at times he could never really separate his home life from them. He could never shut his mind off or stop it from running, with thoughts and memories of his past. 

But with you-when he was with you, there was quiet. You were the calm in his storm, a storm that had been brewing for years, a storm he thought would only and could only get worse. 

But somehow, you made it better. 

With you, he wasn’t simply surviving…he was living. With you he could just…let go. 

His slight awkwardness and his inability to adjust to the modern world hadn’t thrown you off, at all. Instead, you had embraced it, a joke in your mind for every time he had done something to assure he had grown up in different times. And this only drew you to him even more, because it had been a deep contrast between you and the other women who had ghosted him after the second-or even first-date. 

And as he kept his gaze on you, just enamoured, the familiar feeling hit him. A feeling he had been feeling more often than not lately. 

It was something he had never felt before, something that was new to him. 

It was the urge, the deep desire to just want to…stay. 

The word had plagued his thoughts for about a year now, but he knew it about a few months in. Instantly. 

Marriage. 

It was something that he tried to push out of his mind every time it came to him. Bucky didn’t think he deserved it-a future with you, one that sounded like heaven on earth. He didn’t think he deserved it-not after everything he’d done, and all the pain he had caused others with his past as the Winter Soldier. The guilt still ate him alive, and he had let go of the possibility a long time ago. 

But how could he not have hope again when you -the girl of his dreams- stood right in front of him? Sometimes he daydreamed about what married life would be like with you-probably not too far off from what it was now. 

The lazy mornings, your confusing-but intriguing- tv shows you had forced him to watch with you…if there was a possibility that this life with you could be forever…

He wanted that. And there was no doubt about it. 

He had no idea what marriage looked like, but he was willing to figure it out together. 

Bucky’s heart sank a bit though, as he thought back to the first-and last- time he had mentioned something about marriage. 

“Do you ever think about…marriage? Not like, now, but just…in general. Like is it something you’d…consider? Again…?”

The two of you were only a few months into your relationship, so Bucky could see why it was a weird question. But marriage was a further step that couples took, and it was something he never saw himself doing but meeting you, falling for you and feeling the way he did was never something he saw himself in either. 

He had wanted to ask for some time, but had held off on it, because he couldn’t predict how you would react due to your…unforeseen past and bad experience with marriage. Something Bucky knew was a sore spot for you. 

Bucky could tell that you had been caught off guard by the question, evident by the way you had choked on the coffee you had been sipping on, instantly making Bucky feel guilty. 

“I’m sorry,” Bucky shook his head as he scrambled to apologize, guiltily. “Sorry, that I brought it up, I didn’t mean to make you-uncomfortable. Just, never mind-“

“No, it’s-it’s okay,” you assured him, wiping the coffee that had dropped down your chin. “We can talk about it.”

Bucky noticed the way your body language had changed all of a sudden, your face taut as you sighed.  

“Um…well, I don’t know if I’d try again. My first one was a shit show, but it hadn’t always been. I made the decision to get married because I thought things would get better than what it was and…it just ended up blowing up in my face,” you shrugged, your gaze focused on the coffee in your mug. 

Bucky could feel the shift in your mood, and he reached over to place his hand over yours. You acknowledged him, forcing a smile. 

“I just think…why try to change it if it’s fine-great-the way it is?”

Bucky took your answer in, nodding. 

“Yeah…yeah, I get that. Makes sense…”

The truth was that it did make sense to Bucky, but…he couldn’t lie and say that he wasn’t a bit bummed by your answer. 

He could tell that your first marriage had left you shaken and changed something in you. He didn’t think he would be able to stop himself from doing something…unpleasant to the guy you had exchanged vows with before, so he didn’t like to think about it too much. 

He hadn’t wanted to push you, or force you to accept something you didn’t think you were ready for, so he never inquired further or brought up the word again. 

But the fact still remained-that he did want that future with you. 

So what if…the two of you could get it right this time?

Grow old-older, in his case,-together? It was something he was hopeful about, and if there was a chance-any chance- that you were willing to spend the rest of your life with him…

He just had to take it. 

It was just a matter of how, though. 

You couldn’t stop smiling to yourself as you waved the old couple goodbye, putting away the container of cookies the sweet old woman insisted you take. 

This had been one of the better cases, one you didn’t normally take, but you decided you would humor the elderly couple. They had hired you to investigate their son, who they had suspected was planning on throwing them a surprise anniversary party. 

You had been…puzzled, at first. You had explained to them that your services weren’t typically used for situations like theirs, but you had to admit, they had gotten to you. Convinced you, somehow. 

There was something about the couple that just made you…think. 

And think you did, for hours, as you sat at your desk at your agency.  

You thought about how adorable the old couple was, from how the husband still heartwarmingly still pulled the chair for his wife to sit in, to how they finished each other’s sentences. You couldn’t help but to notice the pictures that had hung on the walls, older and newer. The couple had been madly in love. And you didn’t know how but, you could tell that nothing had changed between them. 

They were still the same couple that they were in those pictures, their love having not faltered. 

And it just made you think about your own relationship. 

The word had plagued your thoughts for a while now. 

Marriage. 

You had been through it before, and it chewed your previous relationship up and spit it out. You had no idea that the outcome would have been what it was. It seemed impossible at the time. 

All you knew was that you were in love, and after you got married…it was almost as if the love was never there. 

A few years after that disaster, you had met Bucky. Someone who you could confidently say was the man of your dreams. 

Marriage was something couples used to progress in their relationship, something to take it a step further. It wasn’t required, though, and you thought that relationships could thrive even without a marriage. 

And that was exactly your point. 

What you had with Bucky was amazing. Something you had never experienced before, not even in your first marriage. No one’s relationship was perfect, but to you, yours and Bucky’s was perfect. 

Why the hell would you do anything to change that?

But on the other hand, something you thought about at times was…

What if?

Sometimes you thought about it. What forever would look like with Bucky…and it sounded like heaven on earth. and if Bucky had ever asked you to spend forever with him…you would want to. More than anything. 

But the truth was…that you were afraid. 

The what if’s didn’t only apply to whether you and Bucky could get it right but what if…you couldn’t?

What if…marriage ruined everything? What if you ended up hating the person you loved the most?

The possibility scared you more than anything. 

But it also didn’t make sense. A world where you couldn’t stand Bucky. You were perfect for each other. 

So the decision you had to make was clear…

If Bucky had asked you to spend forever with him…were you willing to take the chance? The chance of possibly losing what you two had, something that was special? Were you willing to make a bet on love?

The question rang in your mind for hours on end, and you were barely able to get any work done. 

And it wasn’t long before you felt it. 

The floor had started shaking beneath you, and it wasn’t long after until your desk had begun to do the same. In the same moment, you thought you had heard screaming and the rush of footsteps, but they sounded muffled- far, but close enough so that you could hear. 

The commotion had caused you and a few of your colleagues to rise from your desks, curious. No one had to say anything, though some did, but it was apparent that everyone wanted to know what was going on. 

Just as you were about to investigate, you both felt and heard the impact that had caused the windows to shatter, shards flying, screams and panic ensuing. 

Yourself and a few others flew, with nothing but the ground to break your fall. Your body began to ache from the impact, but you had no time to even suffer from the pain when you felt the violent rumble of the floor. 

You had no time to process what was happening, and before you knew it…

 You were falling. 

You felt a rush of air as you fell through the floor, and the impact of landing had been worse than the first, your ears left ringing and vision a bit blurry. You had hit the ground, hard, and it left you breathless. You were grateful that you could move though, and you stood shakily, your body in pain. You couldn’t see much, though, and you had soon realized it wasn’t due to your vision, which was close to clearing up. 

As you glanced around, you had just taken in how dark it was. And after shuffling around in the small space that had just seemed to be surrounded by rocks, you had soon realized that you were trapped. 

Rubble had boxed you in the enclosed space, and panic had begun to set in. You used all the strength you had to try to move a rock, any rock, to create a pathway, You yelled out in hopes that someone, anyone, would hear you, and had almost given up hope when no one seemed to answer you. 

You were stuck for all of ten minutes, when you finally did hear an answer -your name- and the sound of rushing footsteps as they came closer. 

 And you would have recognized the voice anywhere.

“Bucky?”

The footsteps sounded like they’d stopped right above you, and you heard your name again, confirming who you were talking to. 

“Bucky, I’m trapped! I-I can’t get out!”

“Hang on! I’m gonna pull you out!”

Not long after, you heard the movement of some rubble above you, debris falling past your head and hitting the ground. You could hear Bucky straining as he pushed rubble aside, and soon after, light had peeked through a crack above you. You heard more straining from Bucky and with a final yank and heave, you watched as Bucky pushed aside a large piece of rubble, leaving a gap just large enough so that you could slip through. 

“Give me your hand!”

You could see much better now, and you climbed on top of some uneven rubble so you could reach Bucky’s hand that was extended out to you. You were up and on even ground in an instant, Bucky pulling you up and out of the gap with ease. 

“Are you alright?” Concern leaked through Bucky’s tone, and his hands quickly moved to your face, his metal one cooler against your face as he checked for any marks, gently holding your face. 

“I’m fine,” you said, taking notice of the concern on Bucky’s face. “Just a little bruised, but I’m fine. I promise.”

Bucky glanced over your face, letting go of a breath that you didn’t know he was holding in and your face, tension leaving him when he believed you. 

You ran your eyes over Bucky, taking notice of the tear in his jacket, and the bruise that had been forming just above his brow, sweat dripping down his forehead. And you wasted no time in asking what was going on. 

“Are you okay? What is going on? What the hell just happened?”

“Sam and I were tracking a target and things got messy…and the building ended up being collateral,” he admitted. “I rushed in the second I realized the place was hit. I didn’t know if you were still inside…”

You felt the weight of Bucky’s words, overwhelmed at the fact that he had been willing to risk his life for you. There was a moment of silence, before Bucky cleared his throat, speaking.

“Uh-We should probably get the hell out of here. The rest of this place could come down at any minute...”

It felt like a journey trying to get out of the crumbling building. You both moved quickly, and you followed closely behind Bucky as he led you down the path he came, Bucky occasionally offering his hand to pull you up or through the rubble in your path, something that had no doubt been easier for him due to his enhanced abilities. 

You and Bucky hadn’t exchanged more than a few words in a while, and you stole glances at him as you walked side by side now, and you could tell that he had been doing the same with you by the way your eyes had met every now and then. 

Even as you and Bucky made your way out and through the damaged rubble to escape the crumbling building that threatened to fall at any moment, it wasn’t what was on your mind. 

Your mind was clouded with the thoughts you had been having all day, the same one you had had before you were in this mess. Bucky looked the same way. It looked as though he wanted to say something, but just chose to keep stealing glances at you. 

The silence between you was thick, and it only seemed to be getting worse. You thought maybe you should say something, anything, but Bucky had beat you to it. You stopped just a few feet ahead of Bucky, confused, as he came to a sharp halt. 

Bucky stood still for a moment, his eyes closed as he took short deliberate breaths. And about a second later, he opened his eyes, staring straight at you. 

“I can’t do this anymore…”

Your brows furrowed at him. 

“What are you talking about? Why did we stop?”

Your question seemed to fall on deaf ears as Bucky turned with his back to you and paced around for a moment, before turning to face you again. He ran his tongue over his lips before he locked eyes with you. 

“Hypothetically…if someone were to, say, ask you a really big question…what would your answer be?

“What?” You were beyond confused, your eyes wide as you looked at Bucky. You didn’t understand what could have been so important in a moment like this. 

There was silence again. And you watched and heard as Bucky sighed. 

“…I don’t have a speech or anything prepared, but…”

Bucky looked at the ground, sighing, and locked eyes with you once again. 

“There’s a lot about me that’s…complicated. Messed up, even…but you…you just make sense. Like somehow, you’re the one thing that fits when nothing else does.”

His words touched you, and you couldn’t help the small smile that tugged at your lips. 

“I had let go of the prospect of a future a long time ago. It wasn’t like a door that had just closed- it was like a door that had been incinerated and burnt to ash. And there was nothing left to walk through. But then I met you…and that door just reappeared. Solid. Like it had never been gone…

You felt yourself freeze where you stood as you finally caught on, taking in Bucky’s words. You could have been wrong but…was Bucky proposing?

“I’ve been trying to do this all week,” Bucky pulled out a small box from his pocket, fiddling with it. “I tried to find the right words, and the right moment…and I have this ring that still has cake in it and it’s chipped from when I bit into it. Never mind that, though, -it’s a long story…”

Though confused at his words, you couldn’t help the light laugh that had left you at Bucky’s babbling. 

“I guess what I want to say is…I love you, Y/N. God, I love you.”

Bucky drew himself closer to you. 

“You’re the best damn thing that’s happened to me in a long time and what we have…I don’t ever want to let it go…”

Bucky sighed, his eyes still locked on yours. 

“I know you’ve been through a lot. And I know it didn’t go the way you had planned the first time around, and I’m not asking you to pretend that it didn’t happen. I don’t know what the future holds, but I do know that when I think about forever…my forever…there isn’t a world that exists where you’re not in it.”

You watched as Bucky furrowed his brows, perplexed. 

“Huh,” he whispered to himself, a small frown on his lips. “I guess I did have a speech…”

You and Bucky were left in silence. You were deep in thought, just…staring ahead. 

This was Bucky. Your Bucky. And as he stood before you confessing his love to you, words that rang true for you as well, babbling about things that you probably would never understand, the same question that had plagued your thoughts came to you again…

Were you willing to make a bet on love?

You didn’t have to ponder much to come up with an answer, and soon enough, your decision was clear. 

You thought to yourself…

That there wasn’t a world where you could ever hate Bucky Barnes. 

With the thought in mind, you bit back a smile, your eyes glancing at Bucky again. 

“Was that a proposal…?” You asked the question you already knew the answer to, and you watched as Bucky came to a realization.

“Shit-yeah. Yes-shit, I forgot to ask,” Bucky shook his head, and your loud sounds of laughter echoed off the rubble. He got down on one knee, holding out the box to you. “Y/N…will you marry me?”

Without a word, you pressed your lips against Bucky’s, the action catching him off guard. A smile tugged at the corner of your mouth as you deepened the kiss, and it said a million words that you didn’t have to say out loud. 

Bucky’s lips had held a smile similar to yours when you both pulled away, a question at his lips. 

“Um…was that a yes, or-?”

“Yes, Bucky! Yes, I’ll marry you!”

A relieved smile had painted Bucky’s face as he slipped the ring on your finger, and as he did, you couldn’t help the excitement and contentment that ran through you, as you thought about what forever with Bucky would look like. 

“So…what were you saying about there being cake in the ring…?”

“Oh-uh…I’ll explain as soon as we get out of here…”

[lukazade]

tfw you're getting changed after a mission and bro won't stop trying to smooch..

[kalied0skull]

Goddamkt making me think of my old Aus you goddamn kitty cat

thinking about stevepop hours

old aus with stevepop aaaaand stevepop aaaaand stevepop :3c

[distort-opia]

do you think bruce and joker could impersonate each other to a perfect or near-perfect degree? if there ever was such a situation that bruce had to become joker for a little bit for a... mission i guess, a strange mission but anyway, to gain access to whatever, do you think he could do it without anyone suspecting something's up? what about joker? with him it comes down to who exactly, right? batman, playboy brucie, or 'normal' bruce (whoever that's supposed to be *side-eyeing DC*)

Oh this is an interesting question. And my opinion is that they both have the capacity to impersonate each other near perfectly, but that they'd find the experience incredibly unpleasant, which is a huge deterrent.

And here I am making a difference between masquerading as the other vs. honestly and genuinely trying to impersonate and pass as the other. Because Joker has put on a Batman costume and gone around causing chaos plenty of times; but it wouldn't be accurate to say he was impersonating Batman with the aim of fooling anyone. He was just mocking Batman, replacing Batman, putting his own spin on Batman... Meanwhile Bruce, the madman that he is, has on multiple occasions taken Joker gas just to see what it's like, and then used the experience to predict Joker's actions. This has made him act or look like Joker, but it doesn't mean he's ever genuinely tried to fool people into thinking he is Joker. At least not to my knowledge. (You know who did successfully impersonate Joker though? Dick Grayson. Which I find fascinating, because Dick also impersonates Batman in Snyder's works and fools Joker with it too. But I digress.)

The numerous works and alternate universes in which Batman and Joker are either facets of the same personality, or merge to become one single being (à la The Batman Who Laughs or Bat-Joker/Jokerborg) show that they relate heavily to one another-- too heavily. I think that pretending to be Joker, or pretending to be Batman, would push their psyches too far into the mind of the other. I don't think either of them could handle it; all the things one thinks and feels are things the other is constantly trying to run away from. Things that scare them. Bruce has repeatedly said or implied he can't truly laugh because then he'll lose himself. Joker believes Batman's head is where fun goes to die. So at the end of the day, I think both Batman and Joker know each other well enough to pass as each other if they wanted, but that there's a reason they've never actually done it; the experience has the potential to erase the line between their identities and lead to a loss of self.

[orangepeelknives]

mack about will:

"We got along right away and I think we were friends pretty quick"

"He's a good friend and someone I have the opportunity to grow with and play with in San Jose."

."We have a bunch of guys who were a little bit younger, who don’t have family, so we hung out. That just makes the season go by a little bit quicker, and makes it a little bit more enjoyable.”

"He's a great guy to be around and always finds a way to keep things light"

"He knows when it's time to compete and wants to win more than anyone"

"Playing against him, he's a special player. I played against them for the last three or four years, so I've seen a lot of him. He's a great player, super shifty, super smooth"

"I played against him a bunch through the years, and it's good to finally be a teammate with him and play with him,"

"He's a great guy and getting to know him over the last couple weeks and stuff, it's been awesome."

"Going from playing against him the last couple of years to really get to know him and spend some together, it's been good, he's a great guy, so it's pretty easy."

"Now it's like, we're really good friends, and to have someone like that kind of by your side, someone near your age, making the adjustment with you, I think it's really important, and I mean the player he is, it's nice to have him around for sure."

"I mean, we've, we've kinda... we became good friends throughout this year. and, um...I think it just, you don't really, after practice and stuff, um...I mean, we're always hanging out. and we're always just lookin' for somethin' to do. Lookin' for somethin' to have fun"

"I mean, it's just - it's - it's also someone around my age that - that I can, I mean - we're both goin' through the exact same thing."

"Having someone like that, it's awesome."

"I played against him for the last three or four years. and, um...I mean, you just put him with - with guys who can play with him, and you see what happens."

"He's a super skilled player, I mean, there's a reason he went fourth overall. and, um...he gave the record for points for the US national program, so. Yeah, I think that kind of speaks for itself."

"There's a reason he went fourth overall and there's a reason he had 71 points last year and was one of, if not the best player in college hockey."

"He's so smart, skilled, his play making is off the charts, and, i mean you've seen it this year, he can also shoot the puck, so. I mean, he's a dynamic player and, yeah, i mean, without even getting a point he created so much."

"I got Will Smith here, he's a pretty speedy guy"

"I feel like a 90 for a rookie's kinda high, but I'm gonna give it to you anyways"

"We are together all the time, and we've been together all the time for the last two months."

will about mack:

"We're always together off the ice"

"He's really funny, You can see it in some of the videos we've been in. Even behind the camera it's the same way. We're always laughing and we're always joking around together."

"It's been fun and obviously we've become very close"

"There's a reason he's going to go No. 1. He's a pretty special player."

"Whenever you're on the ice with another player like that you have to keep your eye on him. We were on the ice quite a few times, some shifts together. Definitely we were keeping our eye on each other."

"It blended right away"

"I think we both have funny personalities and just enjoy coming to the rink. We have something about us that we can still have fun and laugh about a lot of stuff, but we know when we get out there, it’s time to dial in."

"That's actually what we’re like even when the cameras aren’t on, so"

"He would always have a couple (goals) against us, so it was always a good battle. … We were talking about it earlier just how crazy it is that we're on the same team now."

"I don't think a lot of people understand that. it's, um, some teams, obviously you have a younger guy, but maybe the next guy is maybe three, four years apart, so...it's gonna be challenging for some other guys on different teams. but here, we're very lucky."

"It's very special, and something I don't take for granted."

"We're at dev camp, and I'm like, "this kid better sign."

"It starts off the ice, uh, obviously we're together pretty much 24/7, and, um, great friends off the ice, and then on the ice it just kinda happens, I guess."

[sightseertrespasser]

This is kind of a ramble, hope you’re cool with that. Your writing is everything. Part ten of Odds of Survival is perfect to me. It’s exactly what I wanted in sense of writing when the idea of Mecha AU was first proposed. It’s the perfect mix of hilarious and serious. Everything flows perfectly. The whole idea is absurd and it knows it’s absurd which makes it work in every way. I don’t know how to properly express how this makes me feel. I’m giggling and squealing and kicking my feet, while simultaneously wanting to dig into something with my teeth and shake it around.

The way you wrote how humans and Cybertronians interact was really fun to me. It felt nicely balanced. I loved that humans are acknowledged as weak in comparison to Cybertronians but also super strong with those damn Mecha suits. Other organic aliens not liking Cybertronians is really interesting to me. I love love love world building, and I want to know how these other spices think. Why don’t they like Cybertronians. How could you take one look at giant robot aliens and not think “awesome”? That’s the coolest thing ever. I’d ally with those metal freaks in a heartbeat.

Prowl being shocked about how we do space travel. “What do you mean you use explosives?”. Sir, how else are you supposed to get into space? It gives the implication that most species don’t use highly explosive materials to leave their planet, but have found out another method which I can’t wrap my head around, but is so totally us . We aren’t going to not do something just because it’s dangerous. We’re going to latch onto whatever method works and make it the best it possibly could be.

Elita being disgusted by Jazz moving was so funny. I was cackling. I love the idea of being perceived as gross by aliens. I threaten to smear my hand oils on things just for the heck of it. Speaking of hand oils, did you know that placing your bare skin on certain types of lightbulbs will cause it to explode? The oils in our finger tips will cause the light to heat up unevenly which in turn, makes it exploded and launch molten shard of glass everywhere. Not totally relevant, but I learned this in film class and thought it was a cool thing we could do and really wanted to share. Hope you don’t mind.

Anyway, your mecha fics are amazing, truly. I know you said you were done writing for Odds of Survival, but I hope you keep writing other stuff in the mecha universe. If not that’s cool too. No pressure obviously. I’ll just be content with what you gave us. But seriously. This is so amazing and cool and awesome and just everything. There’s so much more I want to say that I can’t formulate properly, but your writing is good. I like it lots. 10/10

Thank you so much for your rambling!

When it comes to truly absurd concepts in stories, I far far more enjoy when writers actually play with the implications of those concepts.

I’m certainly a fan of the Humans are Space Orcs variety of fiction, but mainly I just like it when the human characters are still interesting independent of the alien characters. Generic Everyman humans are fine in the short term but I love when writers flesh out their human and alien characters beyond the surface level of “my species is my personality.”

Jazz is a badass and a liar and an extremely “improvisational ” type of problem solver, which makes writing him interesting. Likewise, Prowl is a genius and a schemer and an extremely stubborn problem solver.

Put the two into a bucket full of problems and it’s a joy to watch them go!

The human/alien dynamic just adds another layer to an already interesting assortment of character interactions.

———

Prowl is having a hard time imagining what “big missiles” is supposed to mean in terms of space travel.

He isn’t thinking of 50+ people in a command center all working together with an deathly serious amount of math to ensure the rocket makes it to the station safely. Prowl is imagining Jazz holding on to the outside of a missile for dear life.

Likewise, Prowl is thinking they return to the planet by using reverse propulsion from the rockets to slow down, and he is definitely not thinking the actual method of descending from space is “big cloth and some rope”.

———

The lightbulb funfact is really cool! And yeah, Elita isn’t normally bothered by organics but there was a little too much Freaky going on for one day. The mostly hairless twitching space gerbil was not on her list of things she expected to deal with that day.

———

I’ve definitely got more ideas planned for the mecha au. There’s a lot of other characters to explore and I’ve been sitting on some plans for a while.