#me thinking about the minglers

[hijackalx]

GHOST +18

SUMMARY: Gortash helps you remember what your relationship with him was like.

WORD COUNT: 4000

UNDER THE CUT: F!reader, good dark urge reader, hard dom gortash, degradation, praise kink, spanking, daddy kink, sadism and masochism, SLIGHT NONCON, some angst at the end

You watch as the crowd disperses, chattering amongst themselves. The once quiet hall becomes an echo chamber for indiscernible voices; you quickly begin to search for an escape before the socializing gives you a headache.

The coronation wasn't worth your time. You didn't even get to speak to Gortash before he disappeared into the sea of people, and your chances of finding him now are slim.

You needed so badly to speak to him about the situation at hand; you hoped he'd be willing to come to a compromise. There's little desire for conflict in your veins— is it bad to admit that sometimes you wish this weight was bestowed upon someone more combative?

You push through bodies, interrupting minglers and meaningless conversations. "Oh, I'm so wealthy!' 'Yes, yes, me as well!" you mock them under your breath, putting on your most haughty persona. The topics that enthrall patriars never quite intrigued you.

As far as you can remember, at least.

You knock shoulders with one of them, though you remain in character. "My deepest apologies, good sir," your voice comes out nasally, your nose held high with a level of snootiness.

Their hand graces your upper arm, each finger laced coldly with steel. It's not a dismissing touch, but a grab. It wraps around your bicep, holding you in place. Your body tenses, shoulders shooting upright— perhaps your impression was a bit too insulting.

"U-uh—" you laugh nervously while your eyes follow their way up to their face. Your heartbeat stutters in your chest, a stillness overcoming you like a startled rabbit.

A man stands before you; his eyes sunken, his hair cut haphazardly, his skin tanned and scarred. You know who this is.

"You," his deep voice finds you through the noise. "I've been looking for you. For a moment, I was worried that you’d left." he doesn't release you, as if he's afraid to lose you again.

"Gortash," you mutter, your gaze darting over his features. "I... was looking for you as well, actually." you're totally and utterly surprised by the fact he even acknowledged you, let alone had been seeking you out.

"Enver," he speaks, and you don't quite understand what he means until you notice the playful raise in his brow; he's correcting you. How... informal of him to suggest you call him by his first name.

He finally removes his grip from your arm. A gentle grin pulls at his lips, and he seems to try to hide it behind the wine in his glass. There's a beat of silence, and during it you catch his eyes not-so-subtly gracing over your figure. "Your dress is lovely," is all he says, and you suddenly feel that your garment is too revealing.

Your arm lays over your stomach and fastens to the other, as if that would some how barricade you from his scrutinizing gaze. So, the Archduke is a bit of a pervert— not something you expected, but something you can deal with, nonetheless.

"I, um— listen—" you begin, yet struggle to pull your thoughts together in the chaos. "Is there... somewhere else... we could talk?"

His eyes suddenly appear more lively, though there's something else inside them that you can't quite place. "Of course." he places his glass down on a nearby waiter's tray. You're shocked as he places a palm towards the middle of your back, making contact with the bare skin through the window of your dress. He guides you out of the crowd, and you're amazed at how easily he wades through it as his obstacles yield to him.

He takes you toward a dark, spiral staircase. You're not sure if he's being polite when he insists you go ahead or if he's attempting to peek up your dress, and you try not to think about it.

Once you reach the top, your body is caressed by the cool, night air. You stop in your tracks, amazed at how the city glows in the dark. You can hear the sounds of the bustling streets, and the faint hum of the gathering downstairs.

"Magnificent, isn't it?" Enver's voice appears behind you and you flinch. You'd forgotten he was there. "As are many things that bend so pliantly to my will."

You turn around to meet his eyes, how they look up at you from under his brow, steady and ravenous. There's a pit that opens up in your stomach— his plans are sinister, and you need the upcoming conversation to be enough to stop them.

Suddenly, you're attacked by a barrage of self-doubt. What a heavy task for someone as measly as you.

The wind blows through the both of you, pulling at your hair and clothing as if saying to stop stalling. Your eyes flit to the ground once before allowing him to lead you further.

He opens another door for you, this one leading to what you believe is an office. Your bodies are bathed in the warm candlelight as you enter. You approach the long, many-seated table in the immediate vicinity as the sound of him closing the large doors fills the chamber.

You observe the architecture, feeling a sense of awe at being in the presence of such expensive tastes. Enver walks around you, heading to a compartment holding many different kinds of liquor. "I keep the good stuff in here," he comments, the bottle in his grasp clinking against the others as it's removed. "Although, I rarely have the pleasure of sharing it with guests as enchanting as yourself."

His words seem to carry an implication of familiarity. You turn to him with a raised brow. "You know why I'm here?" Your mind flits back to earlier— you remember him saying something about looking for you as well.

With a still hand he pours the cinnamon-colored liquid into both of your glasses. He doesn't look up as he responds, "Do you really believe me to be so dull?" he lets out a small laugh, placing the cork back into the bottle. "Besides, my intuition tells me we both want the same thing."

"... We do?" you mutter in disbelief. Had you been wrong about him? Is he really willing to hear you out so easily?

He hands you your glass. "We do." he raises his drink to you as if to toast, then brings it to his mouth. As he lets the drink disappear down his throat, his eyes remain on yours. This time, you feel that you may be able to trust whatever is behind them.

You join him with a small sip, and there is a short moment shared between you two. You notice just how close he's standing to you, but for some reason you don't step away. Your gaze falters from his own, shakily sneaking a glance at his lips, then his neck, and his exposed chest...

You stop there, quickly darting your pupils back upwards. You notice him still staring, and you wonder if perhaps your eyes explored just a bit too much.

Flustered, you turn around and place your palms on the table. "I—I'm sorry, this is just... a bit much for me." you try to compose yourself, feeling the start of your proposal bubbling to the surface. With a sigh, you begin, "Gor— Enver, I wanted to discuss the future of—"

You can't get any more words out— not even a sound. Your eyes widen, your temperature rising throughout your entire body like a surging wildfire. The only thing you can focus on is his lips on your neck and his body pressed against yours as he pins your hands to the tabletop.

Your breath quivers, heart in your throat. What is happening?

His mouth begins making its way downwards. You shiver out of your frozen state. With a swift, freeing elbow to his ribcage, you turn and shove him away from you.

He stumbles backward, the emotions on his face cycling too quickly for you to make something of it. Eventually, anger is the one that settles and stays. "What in the hells is the matter with you?!"

Your hand grips the glass on the table tightly, ready to use it as a weapon if you must. "I— what's the matter with me?! You just came onto me! I don't even know you!"

"What else did you expect, you little—" A crease forms between his brows. "... You don't know who I am?" his voice appears more softly, harboring confusion.

"Well, yes, you are the Archduke— but you know what I mean! Y-you don't just walk up to any stranger with their back turned and start kissing their neck!"

He glances away for a moment, shoulders relaxing as he finds the answers he's seeking inside the night’s prior instances. "You and I are hardly strangers, my dear."

You go quiet.

No— your memory can't have failed you again, not here. Not with him. You'd remember, surely you would.

With an inquiring grin, he approaches you slowly. "So it’s true. How curious." he studies you as if you're a freshly discovered specimen. "If you don't remember what we were, do you even remember what you are?"

His words rattle you to your core. To imply that your relationship with him was so deeply intertwined with who you once were— it almost makes you sick.

"You're lying," you respond quickly, regardless of whether you think he is or not. You won't accept otherwise.

"Am I?" he stops mere inches from your face, as if to allow you to see the truth through his eyes. They delve into yours, carrying an intensity that yours lack, a confidence that you wish wasn't there.

He hums. "Allow me to jog your memory." with a deep inhale, he opts to press his lips against yours. Your trembling body leans into the table behind you, backing further and further away from him until you can't anymore. He kisses you, and for some reason, you let him. You don't make any extravagant attempts to rid yourself of him— instead, you allow him to have you, as if on instinct.

The kiss lasts a few seconds, and he lingers for a moment before pulling away. You feel an emptiness on your lips, your fingertips leaving the glass at your side to reach up and gently inspect the area.

"First, we were accomplices. You, a chosen of Bhaal; I, a chosen of Bane,” he looks you directly in the face as he speaks, making sure you’re listening intently. “After so much time together, we took an interest in each other, particularly each other's bodies," he explains, "We were so young and knew so little— but we learned from each other. Experimented with each other—"

You shift underneath where he has you trapped against the table. You sink into yourself, your chin tucking down in shame. You're not sure how you feel about all of this, but you do know that there's a growing warmth between your thighs.

Even if your mind fails to remember what you two did together, your body knows.

His head tilts so that he speaks into your ear. "And, Gods, the things you'd let me do to you," as if reliving the memory, he almost moans, the lilt to his tone making your stomach lurch.

”N-no…” you mumble, though there is little substance behind the word.

He lowers himself, his mouth hovering over your neck once again. His breaths fan your sensitive skin before pressing his lips to it.

You twitch, your hand involuntarily coming up to rest in his hair. He hears how your breath hitches, and you feel him smile against you as he sucks softly.

His restless hand finds itself on your thigh, slipping into the slit of your dress. The cold material of his gauntlets raises goose bumps on your skin, your muscles tensing every time he reaches just inches from your core.

He pulls his lips from you with a pop, slightly breathless.

"It became an addiction. We'd meet up at every opportunity— almost every night just to fuck," he says with enough emphasis to make you realize just how filthy your past together was. “Hells, I even remember asking you what your father thought of his prized offspring becoming my personal little whore."

You burn hot with embarrassment, though some part of you likes the name he's given you. "... a- and?" you hate yourself for playing into whatever this is, but you can't help it. You want him to keep talking.

He laughs, "you said you didn't give a shit. Can you imagine that? Daddy's little girl willing to sacrifice everything just so she wouldn't have to go a day without me fucking her into the mattress.” he gives you a lift onto the table, both of his hands roughly pulling your thighs apart so he can place himself between them.

As if acting on its own, you fail to notice how your body arches into him, begging for his touch. "Enver..." you moan quietly, the sensation feeling so familiar on your tongue. The memories he describes to you seem so real yet so distant. You want to remember them, to experience them.

His chest rises and falls quicker by the minute. As his hand comes up to direct you by your jaw, the gold points on his fingertips leave indents in your skin. "You have no idea how elated I was to get news of your reappearance. I don't have words to explain how badly I've missed you— your body."

Unable to compose himself any longer, he finally stops teasing and slams his mouth into yours. He's aggressive and rough; the biting, smacking your teeth together kind of rough. You struggle to keep up with him, balancing yourself with an arm over his shoulders until he pushes you onto your back. Impatiently, he rips his sharp gauntlets from his hands, the objects landing somewhere on the floor with a clatter.

He runs his bare hands over the curves of your body, taking in the sight as if it's the first time. You lift your back as he reaches for the zipper of your dress, his adrenaline-ridden fingers fumbling before undoing it successfully. You help him wriggle yourself out of it.

The cold air hits your exposed breasts, your nipples erect and sensitive. His calloused thumb brushes over one before he tightly squeezes your tit, an obvious attempt to hear your voice. He's delighted when you gasp in both pain and pleasure, his mouth meeting yours to devour the sound. He then quickly trails down your neck to pepper kisses over your chest.

He takes one of your nipples into his mouth, purposefully grazing it with his teeth before soothing it with his tongue. Your hand tangles in his messy hair, lifting yourself into him.

His opposite hand sneaks into your panties, toying with your clit in a cruel fashion. He pinches and teases, refusing to give you what you want. Frustrated, you reach down to move his hand out of the way, to which he grabs and restrains. You try the same with the other, and he repeats.

"Insubordinate little slut," he mumbles under his breath as he pushes his knee between your legs, providing pressure but no friction. "You want to do it yourself?" he says meanly, slightly irritated by your actions.

You immediately begin rubbing against his thigh, finally feeling some relief. You exhale, feeling waves of pleasure course through you.

He peers down between your bodies to watch, his erection prominent in his pants. "Fuck, that's right. Show me how badly you need it."

Your hips eventually start to stutter, unable to continue as you lose yourself in the sensation. "I- I can't," you whine, unsatisfied as you fail to keep your rhythm.

He smiles sadistically at how you struggle. "Oh, you can't?" he pouts mockingly. "Poor thing."

You know what he wants, it sits in the back of your mind, ready without second thought. You've been here before. "P-please,” you choke out. "Please, I need you. Fuck me, please," your voice comes out pathetically, happy to continue begging until you get what you desire.

As if on cue, he flips you onto your stomach, your ass stuck in the air and your cheek pressed to the hardwood. He takes your arm and folds it behind your back, holding you in place. "You say that like I was going to give you a choice." You see how he leers down at you through the corner of your eye, a wolfish look on his features. You don't know how much truth there is to his words, but your pussy flutters anyway.

He runs a finger over your folds, the friction from your underwear making you jump. You whimper his name, completely at his mercy. With a huff, he rips your panties off of you, splitting the delicate fabric in half.

Pausing for a moment, he admires the glistening wetness between your thighs. He kicks your feet apart further to spread you open, using his finger to circle your clit before covering the digit in your essence. You watch as he sticks it in his mouth, cleaning it off with his tongue. He lets out a content sigh, savoring the taste.

You whine while deepening the arch in your back, presenting yourself to him further.

His brows furrow. Picking up your torn panties, he wads them up and shoves them in your mouth. It extends your jaw fully, making it impossible to spit them out. "Shut up," he growls. "You'll get what you want when I feel like giving it to you."

You can taste yourself on the ripped garment, feel how wet you are with your tongue. Your saliva begins to dampen it by the second, and it’s only a matter of time before it drips past the barrier.

The sound of him disrobing fills the air. Your irises roll back behind corkscrewed eyelids, anticipating what is to come with little patience.

The gag muffles your sounds as you feel his length drag between your thighs, parting your puffy folds. Your hole contracts spastically, desperate for him.

Then, he slams into you without warning. You scream, writhing beneath him as his dick forcibly stretches you out. The pain is almost unbearable as you feel tears start to materialize.

He balances himself on the table with his free hand, letting out a long, shuddering breath. "Fuck." He takes a moment before moving. There is no slow build-up, his pace is aggressive and hard from the very start. He fucks you like he absolutely hates you, and you suppose it's possible that he does. If what he says is true, then you abandoned him. Not on purpose, but you still did.

His cock moves in a shoveling motion, hitting your G-spot with every thrust. You send your body back to him every time he reenters you, rocking in sync. It feels natural— it feels good. As you adjust, you realize that you fit together perfectly; two puzzle pieces that were never meant to be apart. Suddenly, his dependence on you makes so much more sense.

You gasp as he grabs a fistful of your hair, roughly pulling your head upward. He holds you there uncomfortably as he speaks into your ear, "if you ever leave me again," he pauses to catch his breath, "I'll fucking kill you. Do you understand?"

Nodding your head is not enough for him. He rips your underwear from your mouth. "yes, what?"

Your breathing is ragged and high-pitched as you're finally allowed to use your mouth again. "Yes, daddy!" you assume that must be what he made you call him before, based on how it forces its way past your teeth. You're sure he gets some kind of power-trip from it, perhaps he's envious of your previous devotion to your father.

“It seems you remember more than I thought.” he uses his thumb to wipe the drool from your swollen lip, then massages the spot where he yanked your hair. "Good. You're doing so good."

His unexpected praise makes your pussy tighten around him, milking him, begging for him to come.

He lets out a deep, throaty moan. "Gods, you feel fucking amazing." his palm makes contact with your ass, a sharp smack echoing through the tall ceilings of the office. You yelp, your fingernails clawing at the tabletop. You can feel the hand-shaped welt forming right away, the stinging sensation rising to the top of your skin. "You like how daddy fucks you?"

He asks just as you feel yourself reaching your climax. It builds in your lower stomach, bubbling in your chest. "Y-yes!" you cry. "Please don't stop! Just like that!"

Cruel man that he is, he does the exact opposite of what you ask. He stops, pulling out of you and leaving you feeling empty. Ushering you up, he switches places with you and grabs you by your wrist, guiding you onto his lap.

He looks at you through his brow, cheeks flushed, breaths erratic, yet with a smirk playing at his lips. "Work for it," he orders, holding himself up with his palms on the tabletop.

As you lower yourself onto his length, he watches you intently, brushing your unruly hair out of your face. Your cheek is red and swollen from being pressed into the table, and he gives it a few condescending pats. "You look a mess, dearest," he laughs.

You ignore him, focused on taking him in. You do it slower than he did, but he remains patient for you. You suppose that's his act of kindness for the day.

Balancing on your knees, you start bouncing in his lap. Your hands hold onto his shoulders, watching how he slides in and out of you. A creamy, white liquid has been created between the two of you, coating his shaft and your entrance.

His attention remains on your face— sometimes shifting to your tits, but mostly your face. You eventually notice, suddenly feeling self-conscious under his gaze. Placing a hand to the back of your head, he pulls you in for a kiss. You cup his face with your palms, whimpering into his mouth as his tongue grazes the inside of your teeth.

He breaks the kiss along with a line of saliva. His nose finds the crook of your neck, resting there as he pulls your bodies flush together. Your arms rest over his broad shoulders, occasionally digging your nails into his skin. He seems at peace with you in his grasp, holding you near. It’s in this moment that you truly feel just how much he missed you, worried for you, yearned for you. You realize that your relationship may have been more than just sex to him, even if not officially so.

He lets out a broken groan as he reaches his climax. His grip becomes almost painfully tight, taking your waist into his strong arms to fuck you again as he releases a thick load of cum inside you. The warm substance coats your walls as you tense around him.

His orgasm encourages your own. Squirming in his grasp, you throw your head back. You never imagined yourself crying out a series of his name, but here you are, and you never imagined it would be so sweet on your tongue. He keeps you in place with his hands on your hips, helping you ride it out.

You rest your weary body on his, your cheek against the sticky skin of his shoulder. Although, you don’t rest easy. There’s a heaviness to your heart, a guilt.

You can’t be the woman he knew— you’ve changed. The things you want are no longer the same, and you’ll betray him without even meaning to. He’s in love with a ghost, one that you just can’t pretend to be.

In the end, you’re in each other’s way, and you always will be. Whatever is between you two is an obstacle, and it’s destined to be destroyed.

[yourbestpalpercy]

Iris’s opinions on the other cogs

Bored and was in class when I wrote this. Buckle up, I’m gonna try my best. As I don’t know a lot about the Cogs in ToonTown, I’ll most likely be going off of tiny headcanons and appearances. Warning, I’m mostly projecting.

Skelecogs: “AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAA” Iris is terrified of them. Absolutely horrified by them. It’s not even funny how terrified of them she is. She’s just– she can’t look at them at all!

Goons: “...Awww, pubby thingy…” Iris learned the term ‘Pubby’ online and only knows it’s used to describe something cute.

Cold Caller: “What’re you? …A blueberry? Why are you such a deep blue…??” Iris doesn’t like them that much.

Telemarketer: “...Creepy…” Iris shies away every time she sees them.

Name Dropper: “WHY ARE YOUR LIPS SO DAMN BIG!?” Iris laughs every time she sees Name Dropper, she cannot contain her laughter.

Glad Handler: “...Stop smiling at me like that…” Iris also finds them to be creepy. She doesn’t like how they smile.

Mover & Shaker: “Deceitful guy…up to mischief that one is…” Iris mostly doesn’t trust them. It’s a light hearted distrust though.

Two-Face: Two Face scared Iris too. She hides every time they’re around. She’s not terrified of them though.

The Mingler: “...Are you Name Dropper’s cousin?” Iris thinks Mingler looks dumb too.

Mr. Hollywood: “...Stop smiling at me like that also,” Iris doesn’t trust Mr. Hollywood.

Vice President: “....where are your legs…??” Iris thinks Vice President looks silly and is more comfortable around him because of that.

Short Change: “...Did-...did you just get less blue??” Iris cannot tell the difference between Cold Caller and Short Change. She thinks they’re the exact same person.

Penny Pincher: “Oh lawd, it’s the blue man’s red cousin,” Iris is constantly sassy to Penny Pincher.

Tightwad: “You look about two seconds away from throwing a temper tantrum…” She puts in ear plugs.

Bean Counter: “Also a mischievous critter…” No one can tell if these are endearing terms.

Number Cruncher: “HE CONSUME!! MONCH!!” Iris teases them a lot.

Money Bags: “...where is your face….?? do i want to know???”

Loan Shark: “SHARK! SHARK! SHARK! SHARK! SHA-!” Iris loves sharks. She thinks Loan Shark is rude despite her love of sharks.

Robber Baron: “Is that a mustache or a nose…?” Iris can tell, she’s just mean to a good chunk of the Cogs. …It’s technically in her code.

CFO: “...Stupid looking little sh*t.” Iris says this with a big dopey smile on her face. It brings her genuine joy to insult this one.

Bottom Feeder: Iris has no opinions on this one. Genuinely has nothing to say.

Bloodsucker: Iris will not stop with the vampire references. She WILL NOT shut up about them

Double Talker: “OH GOSH NOT ANOTHER.” Iris hides when she sees this one too.

Ambulance Chaser: “Nurse hat but…” Iris doesn’t understand this one.

Back Stabber: “...Can you stab people with that pointy *ss head??” Iris makes dart board jokes around this one.

Spin Doctor: Iris has assumed SD likes spinning and will never stop spinning one when she sees them. It becomes straight up sadistic after a bit honestly.

Legal Eagle: “EAGLE! CAW! CAW! CAW!!” Iris just loves animals, okay?

Big Wig: “...Eh, I’ve seen bigger.”

Chief Justice: “whyyy are so many of you stuck in big chairs???”

Flunky: “You have a silly name and a silly face. You are a silly boyo.” Iris likes Flunky. I also like Flunky.

Pencil Pusher: “You and Back Stabber should be friends^^.”

Yesman: “Why. What is with the big grins??” Iris broke down upon seeing this one. She’s terrified of their grins.

Micromanager: “BIG LIP. BIG LIP. BIG LIPS-.”

Downsizer: “...What kind of schemes are you up to…?” Untrustworthy.

Head Hunter: “You need a head? Maybe that’s why you’re hunting for them!” Mean Spirited teasing.

Corporate Raider: She has no opinions on them.

Big Cheese: “No way! It’s the guy from Roblox!” This is actually how I discovered ToonTown in a way. No, no one knows what Iris is talking about what she says ‘Roblox’

CEO: “...Chair bound f*ck #3 I see?”

Manager Bots

Factory Foreman + Mint Supervisor + Head Attorney + Club President: Same reaction as Skelecogs.

Derrek Man: She thinks they look cool and she also thinks that they have a plane somewhere nearby

Land Acquisition Architect: She really, really likes how they look. She hasn’t really gotten to know them though.

Derrek Hand: “Are you a drill…? Can I use you as such…??” Derrek Hand’s appearance confuses her.

Director of Land Development: Same opinion as L.A.A, she likes how they look^^

Public Relations Representative: Felt like these ones needed a personal Iris reaction.

“OH GOSH HOW DID THEY GET CREEPIER!?”

Director of Public Affairs: “AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAA-!” Yeah, Iris is horrified by D.o.P.A.

Now onto the guys I actually like

Duck Shuffler: “Oh my gosh!! He’s so silly!” They frequently share :Ps between each other. She really likes Duck Shuffler and thinks he’s silly. “How can you see? I..I can’t tell!” “I can’t believe they don’t give you your own building. You’re much better than those weird CEOs or…whatever they are. The chair bound ones!”

Deep Diver: “...I’ve never seen the ocean before, is it pretty?” Iris constantly pesters Deep Diver about the ocean. Whether she knows about it or not. “I like your colors!” “What kinds of fish are there?” “Have you seen any purple ones?”

Gatekeeper: Personal headcanon, she plays DnD. Iris has played DnD with her before. She really likes Gatekeeper and wishes she wasn’t a Cog because she likes them so much. “Awww! I love your feathers!” “Does it ever get tiring wearing that armor?” “Are you the armor or just wearing it??”

Mouthpiece: I personally heard that she’s like a grandma. Iris adores Mouthpiece and despises H. Lesser for not letting Iris be around Mouthpiece more often. “D-Do you knit? I-I’m very sorry for forgetting…” “I heard from the others that you’re a great cook! I wish I could have a cookie…” “Sorry, Harold never lets us hang out! Says that elders like you don’t understand electronics…”

Firestarter: Iris likes Firestarter a lot! She likes the warmth he brings and thinks his shyness is kinda funny. She also constantly asks him about the snow. “Is it fluffy?” “How cold is it?” “Can I touch it without getting hurt?” “Can you bring some back for me to touch?” And so on.

Treekiller: “....I hate you…” Is often all Iris says.

Bellringer: “If I ring your bell, will it hurt you?” Meeting Bellringer is actually how H. Lesser found out that Iris could “slightly” use the wires in the building to do her bidding…when she started rapidly shaking Bellringer, sadistically. (I’m saying it now, I like Bellringer.)

Featherbedder: “OWL. HOOO. HOOOOOO. Hoo!” Iris really, really loves animals.

Prethinker: As Iris has access to the internet, they often talk about obscure facts. “..Literally no one talks about Cookie Cutter Sharks. I heard the term a few days ago and searched it up. Their bites are horrifying and NO one cares!” “Ever heard of a Sea Butterfly? They’re just as beautiful as the above world butterflies!” “So…didja know that butterflies sometimes are attracted to dead bodies and some drink the tears of crocodiles? Sadistic little things…” “So Dolphins right!?” Harold unplugged her so no one could hear what Iris had previously told him about Dolphins. Coward.

Rainmaker/Misty: You have no idea how much Iris absolutely adores Misty. Another headcanon, she draws sometimes. Iris would adore to draw with her but H. Lesser doesn’t often invite Misty over. Iris would jump into electronics closer to Misty but there’s not a lot down at the docks…also she can’t leave the building. “I really wish we could draw more..I love drawing with you!” “You would never drag me down!” “You’re the coolest person ever!” “I love thunderstorms, did I ever tell you that?” “The lightning you make is so much prettier than natural lightning!” “I love the sound of thunder and rain on the windows!” Another Cog she wishes wasn’t a Cog because she’s programmed to have a disliking for Cogs (to make her seem more trustworthy towards the Toons).

Major Player: Iris likes to dance with him. He’s fun! She really likes him! She also asks what kinds of music he likes.

Witchhunter: Man I didn’t even know this was a character until now. I got nothing… Iris likes witches and doesn’t understand the point in having a witchhunter if witches don’t exist. Supposedly.

Multislacker: “BEAN!” No one knows where Iris learned the term ‘Bean’ but no one really minds. Iris would adore to hug Multislacker and he’s actually one of the reasons Iris craves a body so badly. To give hugs! Iris also likes his Goon pet.

Plutocraft: “No way, just like minecraft,” No one knows what Iris is talking about. No one. She likes how Plutocraft looks but admittedly, she constantly bullies him because of his height.

Iris doesn’t like the Satellite Investors. “THEY ALL LOOK LIKE THE SKELECOGS!! GET THEM AWAY!!”

Chip Revvington: Iris finds him boring. She also thinks he looks ridiculous when he’s staring directly at her. She also also teases him because his face is a chainsaw. Chip just…barely looks at her, turning a blind eye and ignoring her insults.

Pacesetter: Iris likes Pacesetter as much as H. Lesser doesn’t. Pacesetter often compliments how Iris looks, making sure that H. Lesser doesn’t take the compliments for himself. They both adore being petty against H. Lesser together.

Litigator: “ALLIG-...you’re mean actually…” Iris doesn’t like Liligator, seeing him as an angry, ticking time bomb. Liligator makes Iris anxious. “D-Don’t sue me please!” “I-I haven’t broken any laws, I-I swear!” “I can’t even go to court, I can’t leave the screen!!”

Stenographer: She scares Iris almost just as much as the Skelecogs do.

Case Manager: Iris likes his design much more than his personality.

Scapegoat: “GOAT! GOAT! GOAT! BAAAH! BAAAAAAAAAAH!!!” I think I’ve stressed it enough how much Iris loves animals.

AND THAT’S EVERYONE!!

Everyone I’m mentally ready to write about^^!

And no I’m not doing the same thing for joykill. Iris knew or at least met all of these Cogs. Joykill wasn’t around long enough to meet anyone

[clowndotgay]

whos your favorite cog (manager, boss, regular cog, whatever) in TTCC and why?

i think its the rainmaker! i'm really very fond of a lot of them, but there's a lot i haven't got to fight yet. rainmakers fight really grabbed me in a way i didn't expect it to! both in how the fight actually plays & in the character of misty. there's a shocking amount of character put into the amount of dialogue misty has! i've been slowly cobbling together a TTCC-based writing project, and misty is the one i'm most excited to write. there's genuinely a lot of layers to what they say in their fight, and i'm still noticing implications whenever i go to work on her stuff.

the way that they feel simultaneously distanced from both suits & cogs hit close to home for me. their obsession with william is... something! i have a lot of thoughts about mistys characterization, but they range from canon analysis to pure headcanon, so you have to wait till ten years from now when i'm done the rainmaker part of the project to hear my thoughts! i am also admittedly weak to characters who are sopping wet cats. that plays into it a lot. she's kinda funny. gatekeeper and mingler are tied for second place in me heart maybe

[soul-renewal]

When I was young, I always thought and believed that I’ll find “the one” for me…

But as time passed, I’m met with heartbreak after heartbreak…

Always, the man I want, doesn’t want a committed relationship with me… or I like a man and suddenly I feel like an option because a 3rd party comes out of nowhere or a bunch of girls are interested in him while I have the least chance with him

An example, at an old job, the guy I like was in a different department than me and so the girls that liked him, in the same department as him, had a better chance with him cause they see him more often than me…

It’s really sad to be in these situations where it feels like I have the least chance with my crush… One time, I tried to force myself in their life and that ended in a disaster in which I got too attached to him while he ended up dating someone else…

It was heartbreaking and crushing… especially when I gave so much of my time and energy and even bought him things…

I don’t like feeling like an option and having to compete…

The last crush I had, he lives in another country and he’s handsome. It seems like he has lots of admirers and friends that are female... Again, other girls have a better chance with him than me and I told myself I never want to be in that position again!

This last crush of mine, I was so drawn to him and he triggered me so much that I couldn’t tell if I was seeing the future or if it was my own fear overcoming me, but I wanted him so badly and always felt like he was liking some other girl over me and that got me so angry, I acted as if we were already in a relationship…

I felt so jealous, obsessed, couldn’t trust him, so much anxiety over what girl was taking to him and what girl he was giving attention to… I was losing my peace over this guy who was perfectly fine on this end. It didn’t seem like he was triggered by me at all and I hate it when I meet a guy and they trigger me and affect me so deeply, but it seems they don’t feel the same way…

I thought he was a soulmate, but I guess I was wrong… just another lesson and it makes me so sad…

Maybe in a past life I’ve done something horrible and that’s why my love life hasn’t been good… just triggers and heartbreak…

I removed myself from his life because he triggered me so badly…bringing out so many monsters in me while he’s doing fine.

He doesn’t want me… He most likely forgotten about me and is moving on and finding another girl that captures his attention.

I’m yet again, left alone…

It’s like…There’s a giant dance hall and I’m on the outside, hearing the faint music and laughter of dancers and minglers…watching from a far, the eyes of lovers and smiles of crushes…

I guess I wanted to be apart of that too… such a lovely love life…

But maybe… all those years of trying to fit into that party, only to be casted out, was a message for me…

28 years of being alone, never having a partner, never have kissed another, and never have been intimate with another…

And soon, I’ll be 29…

Maybe… this is my curse.

To see the ones I want to love, fall in love with someone else…

To see a loving family and think I can never have that..

Maybe…

I should give up on true love…

Maybe…

I should let it go and stop trying to break into a party I wasn’t supposed to take part in.

Maybe, I’ll finally turn around and walk away…

With a smile now…

Because

I’ve decided…

That I don’t believe in true love anymore…

At least,

not for me anyways…

I remember the 4 yr old me that was so into love, that I’d sing a song, made for a duet, and pretended that my lover was out there somewhere, singing the parts that was supposed to be sung at the same time as me…

But now, at age 28, soon to be 29.

I chose to give up on love and close the door on it.

It’s not coming…

And I grieved it so much…

It’s sad to give up on what you believed in, but it wasn’t good to hold on…

Who am I waiting for?

There’s no one coming…

If they did… they all took a different turn and found some other woman…

I was letting in a draft, leaving myself cold…

I should just focus on myself…

Besides the grief…there came a peace and a feeling of a weight being lifted afterwards…

So maybe… I did the right thing…

After waiting for over 20 years… closing the door was the best thing to do……

I hope they’re all happy with the ones they chose to love…

Good night.

[loopy-harbor]

im an anthropology major and my theory class wouldnt stop talking about “paradigm shifts” 😔😔😔😔

[ri-ahhh]

what about drunk y/n bluntly saying all the things he wants to do to gray and he’s shocked bc she’s usually really shy. ( inspired by the first lines of pu$$y fairy by jhene) “ i like to suck when i’m drunk” “i like to fuck when i’m drunk”

Loud music thuds in every corner of the West Hollywood house you and Grayson walk into for a random party he had been invited to earlier that day. Ethan had chosen to stay at home, but you and Gray both needed to get out of the house, and while parties weren’t really his scene, socializing felt like a better alternative to Netflix tonight. 

Grayson daps up his friend that’s throwing the party and introduces you to him. He seems nice enough, but you barely catch his name before he’s excusing himself to greet some other people that have just walked in.

You catch Grayson’s eye and lean close to shout in his ear so he can hear you over the YG song blasting through the speakers nearby. He smells even better this up close than he had in the car, clean and masculine with that woody undertone that’s just a permanent part of him now. “Do you see anyone else you know?” 

He shakes his head, switching places with you so his mouth brushes your ear now. You’re sure he can feel the shiver his warm breath and too-close proximity elicits, but you’re glad it’s potentially dark enough for him not to see the goosebumps flaring across the skin left exposed by your simple bandeau top. 

“Not yet!” he says, and his huge hand places itself on the small of your back as he lifts his head to inspect your surroundings. His long fingers radiate warmth and calm your nerves a bit as you also take in the features of the house you’re in. It’s big, but not a ridiculous mansion or anything, which makes you feel a little more comfortable about being somewhere that you know literally nobody else. 

Until Grayson speaks again, that is. “Are you good by yourself long enough for me to go piss? I’ve been holding it since I got in the car.”

‘No!’ screams the petrified introvert inside you.

“Of course,” smiles the rational grown woman you pretend to be most of the time.

He grins back at you gratefully. “I’ll be like, five minutes tops,” he assures, moving his hand from your back to your hand and giving it a squeeze. 

You cling to his fingers until they’re forced to drop away with the distance between you, and watch his broad body thread through a crowd of fellow partygoers as he follows the handwritten sign with an arrow labelled ‘bathroom -- you puke, you clean.’ It’s pathetic how much you miss his presence already, but it’s not like this is the first party you’ve ever been to; if there’s any safe place at a house party for the single person to go, it’s the kitchen.

You’ve only made it a handful of yards away from where Grayson left you when suddenly a large someone stumbles into you, his drink sloshing precariously in his solo cup.

“Woah!” he says, holding his drink up and away as he glances down at you, clearly tipsy. To your dismay, some of whatever is in his cup has spilled onto your jeans, but you try to just chalk it up as a party foul without getting too annoyed. “Sorry about that.”

“You’re good,” you offer with a polite smile, brushing off some of the droplets that cling to the denim stubbornly. At least now you have another excuse to get to the kitchen and preoccupy yourself with something until Grayson returns. 

The guy blinks and looks you up and down unashamedly, and you fight not to roll your eyes. He can only be described as a Chad, looking every bit the frat daddy with his Supreme t-shirt, snapback backwards over his too-long hair, and alcohol-induced predatory gaze. 

He offers you his hand, and out of instinct you take it, but instantly cringe at how clammy it is. Being too nice to douchebags is definitely one of your character flaws. “I’m Brad.”

You can’t help but laugh at the irony, because of course he is, but he must take it as a flirtatious giggle or something, because he smiles back at you. “What’s your name? I’ve never seen you at these things before.”

You tell him against your better judgement, and Brad does that thing where he pretends not to hear. He pulls you by the hand still clasped in his and brings you closer to him, as if to hear you better. This time, you can’t stop your annoyed eye-roll, telling him again with finality and pulling away quickly. If Grayson’s closeness that way made you shudder with desire, this guy makes you do it with disgust.

Really, you just want Grayson again. You need him.

You finally rip your hand out of his grasp and give him a tight smile. He starts to speak again, but you cut him off. “Well, it was nice to meet you. I’m gonna go find something to clean myself up with.”

Whether he’s just an idiot asshole or because of the alcohol flowing through him, Brad doesn’t take the hint. “Aw, beautiful, I said I’m sorry! Let me come with, and I’ll make you a drink to make up for it.”

“Dude, I literally just told you my name,” you say, unable to help yourself as this guy’s douche-meter hits record highs with that. “Thank you, but I’m good. Please leave me alone.”

You turn on the spot, but you can feel him following close behind. Luckily, the kitchen is only one room over, and even more in your favor, Grayson is already there, shining like the beautiful angel he is under the recessed lights.

He meets your eyes when you walk in, and you give him the bug-eyed ‘save me’ look that you hope translates to boy as well as it does to girl. He cocks an amused brow, but then his eyes fall behind you and see Brad trailing you like a lost, horny dog, and he frowns immediately. 

“Hey,” he greets, opening his arms to you at once as soon as you wiggle through the other minglers between you. You fall into them and sigh in relief, so happy to see him that you stand on your tiptoes and plant a warm kiss to his stubbled cheek.

“Hey,” you return, pulling back and looking up at him with a smile. His eyes are still locked on Brad, who has stopped in his tracks but not walked away. “Brad here spilled some of his drink on me by accident but doesn’t seem to think I’m capable of cleaning up myself.”

“Nah, I was just gonna make you a drink, babe, remember?” he slurs, narrowing his beady blue eyes at Grayson, like there’s even an ounce of intimidation behind them.

Grayson scoffs, and shifts so he’s squared up with Brad. He keeps his arm slung over your shoulder to hold you against him protectively, and you hold onto the hand of that arm with one of yours while you wrap your other arm around his back. Both of you glare at him. “Okay Brad, first of all, don't fucking call her that. Second, what decade are you living in? What girl nowadays is gonna take a drink from a random, sketchy guy she doesn’t know? Walk away and leave us alone, please.”

“What, is she your girlfriend, bro?”

“Yeah, she is,” he retorts without hesitation. Your heart drops, and you look up at him with surprise. His jaw is set tight and it makes his profile even sexier than usual. “Go be creepy with your own friends now. And leave the other poor girls at this party alone.”

Grayson looks down at you and cups your cheek. This whole lie has caught you completely off-gaurd, but you’re catching on to what he’s doing. You nod nearly imperceptibly in consent, and Grayson dips down to capture your lips in his for the first time ever. They're warm, soft, pliant, and perfectly insistent against yours. If Grayson is capable of anything chaste, this is it, but there’s still a heat behind it you’re all-too familiar with. This isn’t a ploy kiss; there’s something there, and neither of you are able to stop now that you’ve started. 

You trace the seam of his lips with your tongue to beg entry, and he opens willingly. His hand slips from your cheek to the back of your head, clutching a handful of your hair and tipping your head back to allow himself better access to your mouth as his tongue takes dominance, just how you imagined it would so many times late at night. 

“Uh, Grayson?”

Both of you are startled apart, and jerk your heads to the female voice just a couple feet away that had interrupted you. Brad is gone, but a beautiful dark-skin girl with piercing eyes the color of cinnamon stands there with her arms crossed and a perfectly done brow arched high on her forehead. Clearly, you had interrupted them first.

“Nadia!” he exclaims in surprise, clearly having forgotten she was even there before he kissed you. His chest heaves as he fights to catch his breath and you blush when he swipes his thumb across a patch of your saliva clinging to his lower lip. “Sorry. I, uh --”

“You didn’t tell me you have a girlfriend.”

It hurts your heart to do it, but you look at Grayson and step away. Who knows how long he’s been talking to this girl before tonight; who are you to come between that right now? 

“I’m sorry, I’m not his girlfriend. He was just helping me get rid of that gorilla that followed me in here. You know how some guys are. They respect a man’s ‘territory’ more than the girl just telling them no.”

Nadia’s pretty features soften some, and she sighs. “Yeah, tell me about it.” She looks at Grayson, standing there still somewhat sheepishly. “I have to go. Call me when you get...this sorted out.”

“I --”

“It’s okay, Gray. Trust me.” Her eyes linger back and forth over the two of you. “Figure it out, and call me.”

She leaves the two of you with a small but friendly smile that confuses you some. You heave out a sigh. The night has definitely taken a turn for the dramatic, that’s for sure.

You long for a stiff vodka soda to settle your mind, but there are too many external factors that make that a bad idea right now. You’re suddenly aware that there’s still many people in the kitchen, but they're all impervious to two random people making out next to them. 

You snatch a couple cans of ginger ale off the huge collection of mixers on one of the countertops, and hand one to Grayson. He pops it open gratefully and chugs a huge swallow of it, burping into his hand. You can’t help but giggle, and take a more dainty sip of your own can. You still wish it had alcohol in it, but it’ll do.

It’s like he can read your mind, stuffing his free hand in his pocket. “You know, you can have a drink. I really don’t mind.”

You lean back against the counter and look up at him. He’s blushing, from embarrassment or arousal, you’re not sure. You know your heartbeat is still thumping in your panties at the lingering feel of his lips on yours and his hands trailing over your body. Something has inevitably shifted between the two of you, and Nadia was right: you need to figure it out. 

You’re not the most outspoken person all the time, but if there’s one thing you hate more than putting yourself out there, it’s leaving heavy things up in the air. You take a deep breath and scoot a little closer to him. 

“I know. I just...don’t trust myself to be even remotely tipsy around you right now.”

He looks at you, confused. “You don’t trust me?”

You suddenly remember his complete lack of experience with how alcohol can affect more than your motor movements and decision making. It’s endearing.

“I said I don’t trust myself,” you correct with a smile, reaching up to brush his flop of hair out of his eyes. “I liked that kiss. It made me want more.”

Grayson swallows. “Yeah?” he finally says, a little dumbly.

You giggle. “Yeah. Like, a lot more.”

A smirk tugs at the corner of his lips, and he shuffles even closer so you’re pretty much trapped against the counter and his thick, muscular body. Despite the fact that you’d have a harder time escaping this than you did back in the living room with Brad, you feel more free and confident than ever. 

“Like what?” he asks, setting his can down behind you, planting his hand on the edge of the counter next to your hip.

You smile and allow your hand to rest on one defined pec through his thin shirt. You can feel his heart beating strong and fast, matching your own. It gives you the courage to put it all out there.

“Like... take you to the car and suck your dick; like, have you fuck me once we get home.” You look up at him through your lashes, pleased to see him sufficiently flushed and flustered by your words. “Like, go on a date?”

Your fingers have trailed over the hard ridges of his abs and settled on the edge of his belt, tugging on it playfully. Grayson gasps and looks at you with wide eyes and a disbelieving smile as he snatches it away in his own, bringing your fingers to his lips. “Easy. Wow, I can’t decide which of those I want to do most.” He looks back a little and narrows his eyes. “Are you sure you’re not drunk.”

You laugh and shake your head, taking your hand out of his and wrapping it around the back of his neck. “Nope, that’s all you baby. But who says we can’t do all of those, tonight?”

Grayson smiles brightly, and interlaces your fingers. Your ginger ales get abandoned on the counter as he starts to drag you through the throngs of people. “Let’s fucking go.”

[grapesodatozier]

I Knew You’d Haunt All of My What-Ifs

madwheeler pining!! max is drunk and calls mike to drive her home. title from cardigan by taylor swift (yes it came out 17 hours ago and i have already named a fic after it lmao)

rating: teen and up

tags: underage drinking, almost confessions, high school, modern au, pining

words: 2,247

read on ao3 or below!!

The room only spun a little as Max washed her hands. Mostly it was a pleasant, fluid, buzzing feeling. It was warm and she grinned to herself as she swayed a bit. Parties were fun, but there was something about being drunk in a stranger’s bathroom that made her giggle. It was just fun, and it was the point when she realized how truly far gone she was.

Once out, she quickly found her friends in the throng of people in the crowded house. They were friends she’d made in class and known for a few years, and they were getting a few parties in before they went their separate ways for college. Max really liked them, but she had her doubts about how well the relationships would hold up after college. The only people she was really sure she’d always be friends with were the other party members. Still, she liked these girls, they were nice and funny and went to parties that her closest friends were too shy to go to, so she wanted to make sure she got some time in with them now. 

“Max,” one of them, Katie, said, “I think we’re gonna head out now, do you have a way to get home?”

Shit. No, that had slipped Max’s mind. She knew if she asked that the other girls would walk her home, but they all lived on the complete other side of town, and she didn’t want to triple their walk. “Yeah, my friend’s picking me up,” she lied. “I’ll see you soon?” And then they were all hugging her goodbye and disappearing.

Max sighed and waited a bit before heading outside. She may have been better than the rest of the party at socializing, but she would never be a mingler, and most of the people at this party she hoped to never see again. So she walked to the curb and sat at the edge of the property, grateful for the fresh air that filled her lungs and cooled her heated cheeks. She pulled out her phone; it was nearly one in the morning. She knew that in the grand scheme of things, any of her friends would be happy to help her out—a party member requires assistance, yada yada, sweet nerd sentiments. Still, she felt bad calling so late. So she wasn’t quite sure why she was calling the person who would express that annoyance most freely, but the phone was already ringing.

“Max?” Mike’s confused voice came through on the second or third ring. He sounded so cute. As much as sober Max would never admit it, she really did love Mike’s voice. Even when he was whining he sounded kind of adorable, especially when it was over something small.

“Heyyy,” Max drawled, giggling a bit. Okay, so maybe she was a little drunker than she had thought. 

“Oh my god, are you drunk?” Mike asked, exasperated.

“Maybe a little.”

She could hear Mike sigh. “And you’re drunk calling me why?”

Max’s heart was racing now. She shouldn’t be asking this, but it was too late, and the thought of seeing Mike, of being alone with him this late at night had too strong a pull for her drunk self to resist. “I kind of need a ride home. If you’re up, that is, if you’re in bed it’s fine, don’t worry about it.” As her cheeks heated up, she began to ramble: “Honestly, actually, I should just walk, it’s not that far—”

“Where are you?” Mike cut her off. Max leaned over and found the green street sign, reading off the name. “Max, that’s like a forty minute walk from your house, you’re not doing that by yourself at night while drunk. I’ll be there in like five or ten minutes, okay? Just stay there.” 

“Okay,” Max said. She figured she wasn’t in any position to tell him not to tell her what to do, and she found that she didn’t want to. 

She lay back when she heard him hang up, staring up at the stars to pass time. It made her smile to remember what Mike had said, that he wasn’t willing to let her walk home by herself. She knew that he cared about her, but hearing him make it so explicitly clear had her blushing and grinning up at the stars like a middle schooler. 

The time became liquid as she thought about Mike while absently tearing at the grass beneath her. She began to worry that he would be mad at her. But when his car rolled to a stop beside her, he was climbing out of it immediately, calling her name as he rushed to her side. “Max? Max, oh my god, are you okay?”

Max giggled as she smiled up at him, still lying in the grass. “I’m super,” she grinned. The world spun as she sat up, and she had to lean into Mike to not fall over again. His t-shirt was thin and soft under her fingers, and she could feel how warm his skin was under the fabric. It made her head swim, the thought of touching his chest, running her fingers over his skin, feeling his heartbeat under her palm. Her eyes focused on his neck as she caught her bearings again, then looked up into his eyes. The deep brown seemed to glow gold under the streetlight.

“You almost gave me a fucking heart attack!” Though his voice was chiding, he was incredibly gentle with her as he helped her up. Max smiled when she noticed the blue plaid pajama pants he had on. God, he was cute. “Don’t fucking lie on your back when you’re drunk, you could choke on your own vomit! I thought you were dead or passed out or something!”

“Aw, were you worried about me?” Max sing songed as she walked around to the passenger side. She tried to make it teasing, but the vodka softened it, revealing how touched she was by it. Blushing, she hastily climbed into the passenger seat to escape the look Mike was giving her.

“Of course I was worried about you,” he said as he got into the car beside her. His voice was exasperated, but much softer than it had been. Max busied herself with putting on her seatbelt so she wouldn’t have to look at him.

“Thank you for coming to get me,” she whispered as Mike started the car. “I’m sorry I made you come out.”

She shouldn’t have been, but she was surprised to hear Mike say, “Don’t be. I’m glad you called me.” 

“Yeah?”

“Of course! I don’t know what kind of friends you hang out with that would leave you at a party, but I’m glad you know I’m there for you even if they’re not.” 

“It was my fault,” Max explained, “I didn’t wanna make them walk me home and then walk all the way back, so I told them I had a ride.”

“They should’ve stayed with you. What if some creep had found you alone? What if you were drunker than they realized and went running off somewhere and got in trouble?”

Max was taken aback by the venom in Mike’s voice. Sure, she knew how protective he was—hell, it was pretty much his biggest defining trait—but he’d never directed it so fiercely at her. He chided her for taking turns too sharply, or being careless on her skateboard, but it was never with more than a shake of his head. But now she could see his fingers gripping the steering wheel just a little harder than he needed to. Now other people had been careless with Max, and apparently that made a world of difference for Mike. The realization made Max glow.

She looked at his face. He was watching the road. It was dark in the car, but she could make out his profile, illuminated by the street lamps and moonlight and the glows that came from the houses around them. His hair looked fluffier than usual, a little messy, and the fuzzy, liquid warmth that encompassed Max drove her to run her fingers through it. 

“Max!” Mike swatted at her, but he was laughing. “Stop it, I’m driving!”

“But it’s so soft!” Max giggled, resting her hand on Mike’s shoulder. God, Mike was cute. Why was he so cute? Why did he have to have such soft hair and such a nice voice? “So is your shirt,” she added, playing with the material between her fingers. She shivered as her knuckles brushed against the warm, soft skin of Mike’s neck. 

“Wow, you are drunk,” Mike grinned. There was a light blush in his cheeks that made Max want to kiss them. Luckily, she still had some self restraint. 

She didn’t want this moment to end. She so rarely got moments alone with Mike; she never knew how to ask for them. And now here they were, alone in a car on the deserted streets of their suburban town, college looming over them. She’d be in California soon, and while the warmth and the waves were a welcome future, she couldn’t help but mourn all of the memories she had here, all of the moves she’d never made. All of the maybes she’d never chased.

“Mike?” she said softly, her hand still on his shoulder.

He must’ve sensed the shift in the mood, as he was just as quiet as he gave a small, “Yeah?”

“You know I love you, right?” The words came spilling out. Not a confession, not the whole one, but nothing sober Max could ever find the words or the courage or the moment to say. “Like, I know I give you a hard time, but I love you. You’re a really good friend.”

Mike smiled the bashful smile that made Max’s heart flutter; he smiled like he’d never gotten a compliment before, like he couldn’t believe it. “You’re a good friend, too.” He didn’t say it back. It made Max sad for a moment, but she understood. Neither of them were good at explicit iloveyous, and he was sober. He was telling her he loved her by driving her home. Max understood the way he worked by now, so she was more than happy with what she got, really. But the melancholy, the time ticking down, it still weighed on her. 

“Will you still be my friend after college?” Max didn’t mean for her voice to be so watery, she really didn’t, and she wasn’t crying, but maybe her lower lip was shaking a little. 

For the first time since he’d started the car, Mike turned to look at her. He had the sweet little furrow between his brows, a calculating look in his eyes. Concern. He was looking at her and he cared, and Max wanted to melt into that feeling and stay there for as long as she could. “Of course we’ll still be friends,” he said. Max loved that passion that was in his voice, she loved hearing Mike talk about stuff he cared about, stuff he really meant. He had such a fire that stoked Max’s, and she liked to think she knew how to get him riled up as well. But that wasn’t what she wanted right now. What she wanted—well, what she wanted the vodka gave her. She leaned over the center console to rest her head on Mike’s shoulder. “Max, I’m driving,” he said, but it was half hearted this time, his voice soft, and he didn’t make her move. He took his turns gently, let her rest. Max closed her eyes and let it sink in: the way he smelled like laundry detergent; how warm and soft he was; the car vibrating softly around them. She tried not to kick herself for not seeking this out sooner.

Far too soon for her liking, they rolled up to her house. She sat up with a sigh, but she didn’t pull away. She didn’t look at Mike either. She just. Stayed for a moment before shifting back a bit to look at Mike. He looked so beautiful, even if it was dark in his car. She could see his eyes roaming over her face. The air was still, the houses all dark, no one on the street. It was like they were the only two people in the world. 

“Thanks for driving me home.” Her voice sounded all too loud as it broke the silence between them.

“Of course.” Mike surprised her by running his thumb lightly over her hand. God, Max wanted to know what his fingers would feel like laced between her own. “Text me in the morning to let me know you’re alive, okay?” he asked with a smile. Max rolled her eyes but grinned back at him. 

“As long as I’m not dead.” 

They stayed still another moment, Mike’s hand still just barely on hers. Leaning into the warm liquid courage, Max leaned forward and kissed Mike’s cheek, quick and panicked. Then she was saying goodnight and climbing out of his car, rushing inside. From her living room, she watched his car linger for a moment before pulling away. And as she brushed her teeth, and changed into her pajamas, and fell into bed, and lay awake, the whole time she felt the downy soft feeling of Mike’s skin tingling on her lips, the warmth of his blush spreading through her chest.

[writerwrites]

Pairing: Bucky Barnes x Reader

Summary: Protégé to Bruce Banner, Rosemarie finds herself working closely with and befriending the Avengers. Friendship, lust, heartbreak, and so much more find her along this heartbreaking journey into new adulthood. Rosemarie discovers her self-worth and that home is where the heart is… she’ll just have to figure out what her heart is saying first.

Word Count: 7k

Warnings: Smut 18+, language, angst, fluff, language, ye ole slow burn, and eventually death, pregnancy, love triangle… or love adjacent to a triangle? It’s complicated.

playlist . masterlist

A/N: This WIP is intentionally made to ruin all of our lives with feels. You were warned. It’s just my writing style, but I use a name for the reader, in this case Rosemarie, so adjust your imaginations as you read, fam. Also, I do what I want, so don’t come at me for MCU canon timelines. The most notable YOLO in this series is that Bucky/Winter Soldier is an Avenger pre-Blip, Banner isn’t in space, and though there’s tension between the Tony and Cap ‘sides’ of the Sokovia Accords they’re all trying to work together. Avenging is not a main point to this story, but that’s the clarification I will give you. I hope you enjoy my first posted fic, leave a comment, review, message, etc.

Chapter 1: Let’s fall in love for the night...

--- STARK INDUSTRIES: THE TOWER; MIDTOWN MANHATTAN ---

“To the wolves,” Natasha whispered to Bruce as she pressed her fingers to his chest, stopping him from coming to his employee’s rescue. It wasn’t a malicious act, Nat had sized her up as ‘new to this’ and she wasn’t wrong. Rosemarie’s rapid ladder climbing in academia and internships had kept her barred from most parties. At first it was because she was underage, but even in her last year, most people found her intimidating or shy. Natasha glowed like a friend full of faith in a new puppy- or maybe it was the expensive brand name highlight on her cheekbones. “She’ll be fine. If you go to your little lab rat now then she’ll stick to you all night because you’re familiar. Let her have her moment. I’m sure she’s the last one of the three you invited that you’ll need to worry about.”

Bruce pursed his lips and looked down at Natasha’s mouth and her angled features that were made more accentuated through meticulous contouring. “Well, how can I say no to you when you show up in this dress, Jessica Rabbit?”

She leaned into his shoulder, her silky gloved hand sliding up his arm, and whispered in her sultry deep voice that sent shivers up down his spine, “Exactly, now dance with me, big guy.”

Though Rosemarie couldn’t hear what they were saying she watched her boss in his bright red pants and suspenders over a white button up being led to the dance floor. It took enough of her focus to keep her mouth off the floor. She never expected to see Dr. Banner smiling and maybe no one else did either because she’d made it deeper into the room seemingly unnoticed as everyone’s attention diverted to Nat and Bruce or back to their own conversations. The laughter and atmosphere was enough to make Rosemarie find her own small smile. Everyone donned costumes of varying extravagance, the music was at a low enough volume to welcome conversation, and as the songs changed she noticed it slipped between Halloween and pop music. Before she knew it, she’d breezed through the crowd toward the bar, invisible.

There wasn’t a single seat free at the bar and Rosemarie used her equivalent of a super power to keep slipping through the line along the bartop to it’s far corner where a couple was too busy flirting to notice her standing next to them, waiting to order a drink. The minutes ticked on and burning holes into the bartenders’ backs didn’t make them notice her. When her eyes moved up the bar, guessing who everyone was dressed as, Rosemarie felt the shock of the scene as people she had seen on television or read about during her research stood chatting just a few feet away. Swallowing at the dryness that settled in the back of her throat as she tried to pick apart their costumes and tell herself this wasn’t a big deal, that she’d even ‘met’ them during her Stark internship- albeit through a lab window. All of the chatting Avengers donned black suits with white shirts and black ties, some had sunglasses on and she smirked at her hands when she caught sight of Captain America and the notorious Winter Soldier’s suits added the accessory of fedoras.

Maybe she hadn’t realized she laughed out loud a little, but Rosemarie was caught in the act. Their blue eyes moved down the bar to the young doctor leaning against the wall still waiting to be noticed by the bartenders. The innocent chuckle caught in her mouth as her face warmed and her eyes fell to the surprisingly comfortable heels. Rosemarie’s brain raced, the sensation of eyes on her, of being seen, had her mind flitting from panic, to embarrassment, and even fleetingly to Natasha’s hands brushing along her leg. Despite no physical scarring, the heat in her cheeks felt like there were tallies adding up on her forehead marking this as three times more than she had been seen in years. Casually trying to look up under her lashes brought a new surprise, the group of suited men had dispersed just as quickly as she had noticed them. But then she heard it, a Brooklyn drawl that sounded like home. Then she felt it, the gentle brush of cold metal just above her elbow. Timidly, she looked up from those heels, polished boots standing toe-to-toe, and her eyes kept moving north up the stocky, six foot frame of the Winter Soldier. The white shirt was tight to his chest and just as she surveyed his neck, a shot was offered to her.

He broke the silence, pulling Rosemarie from her reverie “You looked like you were waiting a while.”

Looking graciously at the drink, now more than ever, she took it and looked into his bright blue gaze with a nod, “You’d be right in guessing that, Brooklyn.”

“Brooklyn?” He watched Rosemarie with curiosity as she took the shot, wondering why she’d called him that, but she offered no explanation. “What am I supposed to call you?”

With the burn in her throat from the smooth tequila, she found a new fleeting liquid-confidence. “Natasha won’t be happy if her Snow White ensemble isn’t instantly pin-pointable, sir.”

“Well, Snow, what can we do to get you out of this corner and have a little fun with us tonight?” His blue gaze looks innocent enough, Rosemarie decides, but his thoughts are anything but- a game already in play amongst the suited men.

“You’ve already done it.” Before she can banter any more, his vibranium fingers took hers and he brushed her past strangers toward the Avengers, maneuvering her curvy frame through the room with ease.

“Snow, the boys,” Smiling and quite literally looking up at everyone, the doctor realized the soldier hadn’t yet dropped her hand, but just as quickly as she had that thought, he’d left her hand cold and empty. Rosemarie reached out to shake everyone's hands in a whirlwind of greetings as she tried to remember the few first names she wasn’t familiar with. “You’ll have a hard time remembering some of our names if you’re going to stick with your current system. Steve Rogers, also Brooklyn.”

Steve’s grip was surprisingly gentle, giving you one firm shake before his fingertips brushed your palm and let you go. A stark contrast to Thors’ which had been strong, and Rhodey and Clint’s which were fleeting and polite. Rosemarie choked on the air leaving her lungs as she tried to keep her cool, feeling the Brooklyn boys’ blue eyes still watching her as a charming man you knew as ‘Falcon’ leaned in front of them, “Sam or, if we’re being technical- the one and only Agent J.”

Rosemarie listened to the cadence in Sam’s voice and guessed Harlem, but bit her tongue, smiled and nodded. “Men in Black, classic choice, but these two…” she pointed between the two super soldiers, “Are the Brooklynites the Blues Brothers this evening?” The smirks that lit up the two men’s faces gave her an indication that she’d gotten it right and, as much as she wanted to keep looking, there was something fun in this game of being in a circle of lethal and exceptionally attractive people, though she was positive she wouldn’t hold their attention long. “Now you three,” her gaze panned over the remaining suits and then between them at the minglers nearby. With a sigh she shook her head, “You’ll have to tell me.”

“Reservoir Dogs.” It was Clint who shrugged it off with a confident smirk. “Tony’s idea, but I think he just wanted to see who looked best in a suit.” His hazel eyes moved over Rosemarie’s shoulder, “It was nice to meet you, kiddo, I’ve got to get back to-” With a clap on her shoulder Hawkeye walked past you and through the barrier of soldiers at your back.

Rhodey was quick to follow, mentioning his night was all about business and politely excuses himself as Rosemarie looked at her heels and tried not to take offense to having so quickly cleared out the room. She put her smile back on, trying to brush it off and to brush off the ‘kiddo’ comment, too. “So, Brooklyn mentioned something about you all being where the fun is tonight?” Pivoting, she closed the gap that Clint and Rhodey’s absence had made in their little group. 

“I mean, we are, I don’t know about the two fossils.” Sam laughed as he drank his beer, a clear buzz already going.

“Just because we can’t get wasted doesn’t mean we are any less fun than you idiots. Besides, someone has to babysit the Asgardian and the college rambler.” The Winter Soldier’s words were honest with a twinge of annoyance but Steve clutched his shoulder and smiled. “We’re wondering who you think we all should be dancing with.”

Her thoughts were on who could be the ‘college rambler’ and the request. An actual laugh passing her lips that bordered a scoff, but she looked around and gave it her best shot. “Thor maybe with the brunette over there talking to the lady agent with Mr. Fury.” Tilting her chin up she saw the corner of his mouth turn up into a smirk as he took his hand out of his pockets and smacked a handshake into Sam’s hand.

“I bet he’d be more upset if it wasn’t Sif. I swear those two have been harboring feelings for each other since…” Sam laughed and shrugged. “All right, matchmaker, not a bad start. Who’s next?”

Swallowing, she looked around the room. There were plenty of women standing around chatting to other women, but one beautiful woman looked around the room with an expression all too relatable to Rosemarie’s. “Sam, what about the petite cutie with the marg by Nat?”

Taking his hands out of his pockets, Sam clapped Steve on the shoulder and shook his hand. An odd gesture, Rosemarie fleetingly thought, but before her eyebrows could even draw together in confusion the soldiers looked at each other and Cap, shaking his head, told him, “That’s Thor’s ex, Jane.” His head tilted at the young doctor in front of him. “Isn’t she working with you and Banner?”

With a shrug, you looked over again, Sam leaning on the table and Nat rolling her eyes, Jane clearly trying not to make direct eye contact. “Well, I’m clearly no matchmaker, so I hope that if she’s working with me that Sam doesn’t actually tell her what I did.”

“Don’t take it too hard, most of the regulars have at least gone on a date with Tony and everyone else has done God knows what with at least one other person in the room.” Steve shrugged, offering a gentle smile before bringing his beer to his lips and pulling his eyes from her.

“Okay, we won’t force you into playing our little game anymore, so it’s our turn then.” Rosemarie looked up at the two remaining Avengers, but their eyes were on each other and then out through the crowd.

“What about Pete?” Steve suggested, nodding toward a somewhat familiar face.

It took a moment before she could place him. “He’s a college student interning for Stark, isn’t he?” Her eyebrows drew together with uncertainty. If she remembered his story from the one conversation they’d had, he was a savant like herself. “He’s a bit young, isn’t he?”

“Aren’t you?”

“I’m old enough to drink.” She nipped back at the boys, her own Brooklyn accent thick.

“All right, what do we have here? The beginnings of a joke, surely. Two cavemen and the apprentice of Yoda walk into a bar…” The clap of hands and quippy attitude were quick to place.

Steve greeted him tight lipped with a single nod. “Tony.”

“Cap. Barnes. I see you’ve met my former intern and young doctor of neuroscience that is leading one of Banner’s teams at BST. Doctor...,” He trailed off, either to let her introduce herself or to remind him of her name.

Regardless of whatever game Stark was trying to play, her non-confrontational nature made her quick to smile, nod, and shrug off the introductions, “I’m just Snow tonight.”

Tony’s head tilted to the side and both super soldiers failed to hide their amusement. “Y’know, I see why Pepper likes you.” As if hearing her name made her ears tingle, Pepper slipped in at his side, offered up a wave to the group, whispering into his ear and pulled him along as her black dress ghosted the pristine floor, a perfect replica of Hepburn’s Givenchy gown from Breakfast at Tiffany’s. But as he passed her he whispered in her ear, “Don’t get too caught up with these troublemakers, kiddo.”

Needless to say, Rosemarie knew they’d heard it when she caught their jaws clenching and she groaned. “I make decisions for myself, thanks.” Brazenly, she grabbed both their hands, “Back to the bar, Brooklynites. I think we all could use a drink.” It amazed her how, with a look, three people gave up seats for them. “So, back to this horrible job you gentlemen were doing at a setup, care to try again while I enjoy this?” She lifted the shot, throwing it back after they did the same, and then made an order for an actual drink. Her attention wasn’t on them, unaware of the looks they gave each other, their gaze panning the room. “Giving up on the impossible mission, boys?”

“Impossible?” Steve laughed.

“Giving up?” Bucky scoffed.

“It’s all right. I did what Nat and Bruce needed, a quick show of my face and day one of the new job is done.” She shrugged, sipping on her drink.

“Day one?” They’d asked in unison.

“Yup.” She nodded, polishing off the drink, a sudden urge to make the most of the night now settling into her bones and she slipped off the chair, the Winter Soldier’s vibranium hand reaching over to quickly help Rosemarie steady.

“... and you’re at a Halloween party instead of celebrating with friends?” Steve pressed his lips together, trying to hide a look of pity.

“Don’t.” She grimaced in a whisper, a slight sadness in her eyes as they met Steve’s. “It’s a party. Dancing, that’s what we’re supposed to be doing right?”

The pulse of the song felt familiar, even if she didn’t know the words. Rosemarie’s hips swayed side to side, arms up like the music was pumping and she was home alone dancing Bachata. Forgetting about the peak of skin that the crop top exposed in doing so, she felt the heat rise in her body when both of them swallowed. Her eyes fluttered closed and she kept dancing. Eyes closed, ignoring the initial eyes on her or that Nat had pulled Bruce to the floor and Pepper, Tony before the majority of chattering conversations ceased and the floor filled with laughter as a new tune thumped on.

The gentle sensation of a hand on her hips made her eyes open and Rosemarie gasped to see Natasha swaying with one hand behind her on Bruce’s neck and the other on her hip. “How much have you had to drink? I definitely didn’t think you’d be the one to start the fun tonight.”

“Surprise?” She tried to laugh, “Not much, promise.” The comment was directed at Bruce who didn’t seem bothered either way. “We’ve got work in the morning. I wanted to have a little fun and appreciate the invitation before heading back home.”

“Already?” Nat pouted.

“Brooklyn, baby! It’s about forty minutes home.”

Rosemarie watched Nat’s hand pull away from her as she slowly stopped dancing. “Then I guess we’ll just have to drag you out sometime. You seem like you’re getting along with everyone, right?” Her green eyes looked over the doctor’s shoulder back to the bar. “Get this one home safe. She’s headed that way.” Just as Rosemarie was about to protest, Nat wiggled a finger.

It seemed like a fruitless thing to argue, but in her mildly buzzed state she lacked the energy to fight or to realize that in a tidy little pile in a limestone on the Upper East Side bathroom were her keys, clothes, and badge. With a nod and a quick goodnight, she headed toward the elevator, weaving effortlessly through the crowd with a smile on her face. As the doors dinged open she could feel the presence of the two men on either side of her. “You don’t have to, guys. It’s Brooklyn, been there my whole life. I can handle myself. Hell, you see how easily I walk through this room. I’m Harry Potter in the restricted section twenty-four, seven.”

Neither of them seemed to catch the reference, following her into the elevator. Steve broke the uncomfortable silence, “I’m not much for partying and he’s not much for groups without me.”

“Now, you’ll have to pick your poison because we both rode motorcycles here.” Rosemarie crossed her arms stubbornly at his comment. Crossing her arms after hitting the main floor’s button, he realized she wasn’t going to cave. “All right, looks like we’ll have to do this the old school way. Three out of five?”

“That should get us to the main floor.” Laughing like schoolboys, they played rock-paper-scissors, the doors opening, and Rosemarie ducking under their hands to get out.

“So who won the honor of a very long chaperoning adventure?” She asked as they reached two motorcycles in the parking garage.

“Go on, Buck. I’ll see you back home later.” Steve’s face was warmer, a genuine look of happiness on his face as he clapped a hand to his friend’s shoulder and gave it a squeeze. “C’mere Snow, let’s get a helmet on you.”

“It’s Rosemarie, actually.”

“She speaks!” Bucky got on his bike, his own helmet secure and the engine purring. “Pretty name, doll. Bit of a mouthful, but maybe it suits you.”

“I used to be called Rorie when I was little.” She rubbed her hands nervously in front of her as she also listened to Steve telling her how to get on the bike. He even took her hand to help her as she swung her leg over. “Good night, Steve. I guess I’ll be seeing you around.”

Tilting his head to meet her eye, he smiled, the kind of warm smile where it met his eyes and made creases in the corner. “I hope so.”

And with that farewell, the engine was revved and Rosemarie lurched forward in fear. Her arms wrapping to the best of her ability around the suited soldier, taking in fist fulls of his shirt when she couldn’t fully hold on to him. His vibranium hand covered her, his hand patting hers as she hid her face into his back. It took her a minute, but he let her get used to the chill of the wind on her arms and legs, the stop and go of the city’s red lights, and the proximity to a man she hardly knew. When she finally plucked up the courage to look up they were halfway to Brooklyn. Her right arm stretched out and she flipped up the visor to the helmet, letting out a laugh and cheer as they zipped through Queens Midtown Tunnel. His vibranium hand patted hers and though she couldn’t see it, she thought he was smiling too.

It wasn’t until they reached Brooklyn’s limits and her racing heart settled into a calmer cadence that he pulled over at a red light and flipped up his own visor. Exasperated, she pouted and gently tapped her helmet to his, “Don’t stop driving!”

Then he laughed, just like he had with Steve, and explained himself, “You’ve got to tell me where you live eventually.” It took a moment, a fleeting thought that it would be easier to show him the address on her ID than to try and shout over the sound of the bike through a helmet, that she realized she’d been to caught up tonight to remember her clothes, lab coat and badge, keys, and even her phone were in Bruce and Natasha’s house. He could tell something wasn’t right, pivoting on the bike to get a better look at her. “What is it? What’s wrong?”

“My keys are on the damn Upper East Side.”

Laughing again, the man simply shook her head. “That’s fine, we can get it later. What’s the address?”

--- ROSEMARIE’S UNIT ON E 22ND ST; BROOKLYN ---

She didn’t get it at first, but with their feet in front of the triple locked tiny fourth floor apartment, he squatted, took something out of his coat pocket, and within twenty seconds the door was opened, no sign of invasion. “Wow. You’re good with your hands.” Her cheeks were bright red as she slipped past him into the pitch black apartment. “Thank you so much, Mr. Barnes.”

He cringed and shook his head, “Bucky, please- or even Brooklyn or Barnes. Never James, never Mister Barnes or Mister anything-else, and preferably no Winter Soldier, either. Just Bucky.”

“Have it your way, Bucky.” She gave him a nod to come in while she leaned against the door, a warm smile on her face as the liquor was quickly leaving her system and the little flirtations had no gray area. “Let me make up this coerced escort nonsense for you.”

“Are you sure, Rosemarie? I thought you had work in the morning.” His blue eyes looked down at her, trying to read her expression as he tried to decide if he was being propositioned and if going in was a good idea.

“I’m sure.” With a laugh she tugged on his hands, his entire frame completely immobile in the hall. “Come keep me company and we'll have snackies!”

Bucky nodded, stepping into her home with clear eyes and a sense of expectation that she’d drawn a line about where the night would lead. She flicked on light after light, the room filling with a warm honey-white glow that illuminated the books, art, pictures, scattered around the room and hanging on the walls. “This is nice.”

Her head popped up from behind the refrigerator door, her eyes falling on the man that looked obscenely too broad for the space. “Do you mean the apartment or the picture?” Rosemarie saw his blue gaze studying a painting on the wall, “It’s a painting of Roraima in...”

“The borders of Venezuela, Brazil, and Guyana.”

“Yeah… I want to go someday. It was my brother’s last painting.” She swallowed and looked down at the peanut butter and nutella sandwiches she was making, reminding herself to catch her breath. It’s not like he hasn’t travelled all over the world. It’s not like he really cares about where you want to travel to. He definitely doesn’t care about your crazy family.

“You should go, it’s one of the most beautiful places I’ve ever seen.” He smiled at the painting and came to the kitchen counter, noticing the crease in her forehead as she made their late night snack. “Do you want to talk about him?”

She shrugged, both surprised by the question and uncertain of her needs colliding with her personal baggage. Instead, Rosemarie slid the plate of four half-sandwich triangles toward him and then added two spoons to the plate before tucking a pint of Ben & Jerry’s Cinnamon Buns ice cream and two bottles of hard cider under her arms. “He’s the one that used to call me Rorie. He couldn’t really get Rosemarie out and my parents hated it when people mispronounced it as rosemary.” It felt like a simple enough gateway to let her try to gauge his interest. After flopping onto the couch and nodding to the spot next to her he joined her, setting the food on the coffee table and taking one of the ciders. “I think they’re twist off caps?” She struggled, cheeks red with embarrassment, but Bucky used his vibranium hand to flick the cap off before doing the same with his. “Oh, so that’s what the hand is for.”

“Among other things.” They shared a soft laugh and he watched her kick off the heels and pick up the gaming controller, talking to the television as it popped up with the Netflix logo at her commands. “What are we watching?”

Tossing him the remote she grabbed a slice of the sandwiches and pulled her knees to her chest. Taking a big bite, the hazelnut and peanut butter coated her mouth and she let out a satisfied hum. “Brooklyn's choice.” A second big bite and another hum and Bucky’s curiosity got the better of him, clicking the first film on her recommended list to snag a slice for himself. A deeper, similar hum passing his lips made Rosemarie squirm in her seat. She washed it down with the cider. “Right? Comfort snackies are the best late night food.” Rosemarie turned to look at the super soldier taking up two thirds of the love seat to find the hazelnut spread in the scruff of his overgrown stubble. With liquid courage pulsing in her veins she leaned in slightly and brushed it away with her thumb, but not courageous enough to meet his piercing blue eyes. Heart thumping in her ears, she whispered, “I forgot to grab a napkin.”

Bucky’s full lips wrapped around her thumb, his eyes unblinking as hers went wide. The soldier didn’t give her a chance to act on flight, his arm wrapping around her waist and pulling her onto his lap as she whimpered at the sensation of his tongue sliding up her finger. “Aren’t you just starved for attention.”

He wasn’t wrong. It had been six months since she’d been with anyone and that was a one night stand with a stranger from a bar and longer still since someone had been inside her. She’d taken herself out to celebrate finishing school and someone told her she had the perfect body. Rosemarie squirmed in his lap thinking about the way their hands had worshiped her curves and their mouth had set her off. It was one of just a couple of encounters. All of them paled in comparison to having the broad shouldered and bright eyed man holding her close. “I..It’s…”

The man smirked at how flustered she was, His fingers moving from a firm grip holding her waist to brushing up her back as he finished the snack in one final big bite. He almost looked childish if it hadn’t been for the look in his eyes, pupils blown and the corner of his mouth turned up. “Complicated? Doesn’t have to be, Sugar.”

Sugar, the word was sweeter in the subtle hints of his accent, a dated term of endearment that wasn’t typical in any non-condescending modern usage, she thought. This wasn’t how intentional. He wasn’t even on her radar and as he drank his cider and watched her, she climbed off his lap and slowly unbuttoned the yellow shorts, stopping before she pushed them down because her little panicked mental monologue found her again. He doesn’t really want you. He just wants to get laid. Maybe I just want that, too? This is never going to happen again, so calm down, focus, enjoy the moment. But the ice cream on the table is going to melt and leave a water ring from condensation... Then his hands were on her hips, pulling her legs closer by tugging on the loose fabric of the shorts before he wiggled them down her legs.

His now empty bottle set to the side, Bucky looked up at her as he leaned forward and pressed his full lips to her hips. The warmth of his mouth and the sting of cool from the wet mark he’d left after it met the air felt as starkly contrasted as the warmth and the cold of his two hands. Nibbling on her bottom lip, he kissed the other side and questioned her demeanor. “What’s going on in that pretty head of yours?” Letting his fingers rake up her back and under the crop top, Bucky used his superior senses to interpret what she wasn’t saying. Rosemarie now realized just how small she was next to him, her pulse thumping with a far more vibrant cadence than when he’d taken her finger into his mouth. Now his own fingers rubbed her back and moved south, pushing her panties to the floor before coming back up to take off the crop top too. But he didn’t gawk or let his eyes wander, he just drank in the smell of hazelnut and peanut butter on her breath, the faint smell of honey and apricots from her morning shower, and the heat rising in her cheeks. “Where have you been the last ninety-nine years, Rorie?”

Swallowing down the nickname, she brought her hands to his tie, “Should I be flattered or creeped out about this age gap?” Nervously giggling she loosened the silky bit of black fabric, watching it ruffle into the mess of her own clothes half on the floor and half on the couch. She felt his muscles through the pressed fabric of his shirt until they ghosted along the top of his slacks and as she looked at his neck, still too anxious to meet his gaze, Rosemarie chewed on the inside of her cheek. Nerves, she was nothing but nerves on fire. When she undid his belt with shaking hands, his hands left hers to quickly undo the buttons of the dress shirt. It was a frantic and rapid dance to get him just as naked as she was and her nervous laughter abated into a whimper. The zipper went down exposing black boxer briefs and with her thumbs in the elastic and she pushed it down, just as he’d done to her, just enough to make his clothes fall to the floor. “This seems entirely unfair.”

He let her eyes move down his body, his chest rising and falling at steady pace, though obvious that he was taking deeper breaths. Rosemarie rested her forehead on his sternum, drinking in the toned muscles that met the cut of his hips, the hulking lines of his thighs, and then at last the bulk of his cock. She didn’t hide her fear from him well at all, completely certain she’d never be able to handle the size of the solid man. His hands went to her neck, hot and human, cold and robotic, and that tender tilt up of her chin, forcing her eyes to look into his, she knew that he knew. “We don’t have to do anything you don’t want to. If you feel like I…”

“Bucky.” She interrupted, breathing sharply. Before her mind in all its anxious sadness could torment her back into silence she managed to whisper, “Of course I want you. I’m scared, not an idiot.” Leaning up, her lips brushed his, so close to kissing him, she made her request. “Please, gently.”

Of all the stories she had heard, she didn’t know if he was capable of it until he kissed her. Her soft lips were met with his, hungry and forceful and then, just before she could flinch, his tongue parted her lips and the kiss became subdued. Bucky knew what he was doing, teasing her with the passion she was missing out on while enticing her with the promise of giving her what she’d asked for. Her demure little touches of her fingers avoiding all his most sensitive areas made him moan against her lips. The man couldn’t help but wonder if she was intentionally teasing him in return. His lips left hers, trailing wet kisses down her neck and across her breasts. Bucky flicked his tongue across her nipples, hiding his smirk in her ribs at the squirm of her hips under his hands when he gave them no more attention and sat back on the couch. She was so close to pouting, protesting, and pleading, but his hands moved down her curves and tugged at the soft flesh at the back of her thighs, pulling her onto the couch to straddle him. 

Rosemarie rocked her hips forward, pressing his length against his stomach and her clit. The groan that came from the back of Bucky’s throat had her dripping and as she continued grinding against him while they kissed, she could feel herself dripping down her thighs and onto him. His kisses were patient but the longer she kept teasing him, feeling her skin heat beneath his touch, Bucky began to rut his hips compulsively. Her finger tips dug into his shoulder and neck as the tight coil of her climax built in her belly before any part of him had even been inside her. Slowly she lifted herself and he looked into her eyes knowing what she was finally ready and asking for, confirmed by her lip biting and head nodding as she lowered herself onto him.

Bucky let her take him in, slow but keening. He could tell how badly she needed to do this on her own, quiet gasps between tongue tangled kisses as every inch of him stretched her. He savored those little sounds, they only made it harder for him not to thrust completely inside her. His mind was in a fog, intoxicated by the smell of her, the shake in her legs, even the way her body reacted to the cool metal of his weapon brushing her hair from her face. She’d turned into it, briefly pulling her lips from Bucky’s to put her burning cheeks to his palm and she knew he could kill her just as much as she felt it in her gut, he wouldn’t. She’d been in love just once before and never been looked at like this and just as she’d thought that his kisses stopped and his hands held her still and he asked her, “What’s that look?”

Rosemarie pressed her lips to Bucky’s metal wrist and his expression was just as unreadable as hers had been seconds earlier, “What’s that look?” Her playful feedback of the same question was far less focused, each word a breathy whimper as the sudden lack of affection made her all the more eager to be full of him. The doctor swayed her hips in small circles, calling out in her native tongue as their thighs met and he hit every spot, stretching her out.

“Fuck. Fuck you’re so tight.” The timbre in Bucky’s voice made her squeeze around him and he clutched her hips to stop her from moving for fear that the evening would be short lived. He pressed his forehead to her shoulder and she caressed his back and did the same, the salt on his skin coating her lips. They listened to each other breathing and Rosemarie began a slow ride, relishing the sounds of his pleasure. “Good girl,” the words were whispered in her ear - a stark contrast from his grunting just seconds earlier, his teeth brushed her earlobe, and then his hands squeezed her ass as he met her pace with repeat eye watering thrusts.

The English language failed her, pleading for more and pleasantly surprised when he understood. Bucky’s pace stayed the same, but each thrust was deep and then deeper. Her fingers tangled in his dark hair and pulled until his mouth was back on hers. The small apartment echoed with the bawdy sounds of moaning pleasure and skin on skin, all of her muscles began to tighten as he brought her to the edge. Leaning back slightly with a hand on his knee and the other on the couch Bucky accepted the invitation to access more of her body. His tongue drew circles around her hard nipples and his thumb massaged her clit. The slow build to the first orgasm had been worthwhile and obscenely wet, they could feel her pouring down their legs and soaking the couch. Immediately, her entire body shook and her face was bright right, her eyes apologetic. “I’m sorry, that… that’s never happened before and…”

A soft hush passed his lips and he pushed back inside of her, finding a new rhythm as her muscles reacted, milking every thick inch of him. “You’re sexy, beautiful, smart, and…” he swallowed, his thrusts became erratic, and maybe it was the compliments or an instinct he was close but Rosemarie couldn’t help herself, bouncing up and down on him, and every time he bottomed out she practically danced for him, grinding on him for friction to her clit. “Don’t stop.” He was the one panting and begging now. “Good girl, beautiful. Just like that.”

All the positive praise as his eyes stayed on her wide hips and full breasts made the woman question if this was how sex was supposed to be. The curves she only liked in certain outfits, now being drunk in like a missing Van Gogh. She got off on it, her body still reeling from her first orgasm and Bucky rutted into her as she gave him his. Lost in the moment, they held each other tightly, his cock filling her until he dripped his own mess onto the furniture. But despite the new exhaustion and how her tired body draped over him, he was still hard and she was still hungry. “More.”

The whimpered plea was met with his strong arms holding her as he walked down the short hall opening the first door to find it was the bathroom and then the second, her bedroom. Her legs were too tired to wrap around him and the tips of her toes tickled their way across the floor until he pulled her on top of him on her bed that was obscenely small for a man of his size, let alone two people. “Rorie, you should get some sleep.”

She bit the muscle of his flesh arm. “You’re still inside me, Barnes.” Her lips moved across his skin, nipping at his ribs before trailing her tongue along the toned muscles to his other arm, where she placed a kiss and settled her head. Her dark hair was unruly as it draped across him, his own no better on her bedsheets. Though breathless, she managed a feeble argument. “You can’t just bring me to bed, be inside me, look like this, and not keep going until I’m unconscious.”

He laughed, not maliciously but rather out of shock at how sleep impacted her candor more than alcohol had and all Rosemarie could think was there’s nothing more beautiful than you. It was written all over her face, but he missed it, his eyes closed as he laughed, and maybe he’d never believe it if he had. She couldn’t help herself, kissing every inch of his skin that she could without moving a muscle, savoring her legs tangled in his. “If you want me to put you to bed, there’s more than one way to do that.”

“But only one way I really want you tonight.”

“Tonight? There are other ways you want me on other nights…”

“Mmmhm, Friday night? You free?”

“It’s a date, sweetheart.” The banter was sleepy, but Bucky’s hips were already lifting off the mattress and his arm around her waist pinned her there to take each eager thrust.

What had started slow and sweet, evolved into deep and needy, now found an impassioned second wind. He worshiped her mouth, the tip of his tongue brushing across the roof and before he could have the audacity to take it from her, she nipped, and caressed his tongue with hers. Then Rosemarie worshiped his chest, arms, and stomach; pushing against him as she rocked her hips with every movement across his skin. He gave it to her again, deep thrusts, fervent even, and he pulled her mouth to his. “Good girl! So eager for another orgasm. Been a while since someone gave this pretty pussy the attention it deserves?” Her tired frame dropped slowly over him and he held her close on top of him, one hand brushing her hair as he still pinned her down at the waist as he claimed her. “I hear those tired moans, Sugar. I’m gonna put you to bed real soon. I want to hear it one more time. Say my name, roll those soft hips against me and say it.”

Her bedsheets were held in her fists, anything for further friction. They both got it and as she tightened around him she begged, sticky with sweat, sore and breathless, and still wanting. “Come with me, Bucky. I want to feel you throbbing inside me again. Bucky. Buck,” she was so close, panting, “Buck, don’t stop.”

Bucky tangled himself in her and gave her what she begged for, finishing deep inside of Rosemarie as her legs shook around him and her arms gave out, every muscle in her body vibrating. “Good girl. Now close those pretty eyes and get some sleep, okay?”

Though she nodded sleepily, her head almost incapable of being picked up from his chest, she mustered final exhausted chatter, “One last kiss and a promise you’ll stay?”

Again, he granted her request and she hummed at the sensation of his scruff on his chin. He smiled, satisfied, and finding her quiet verbalization of pleasure a sweet surprise he changed his mind about slipping out as soon as she fell asleep. “I’ll stay a bit, sweetheart. I gotta get your stuff from Nat’s before you have to head to work, but I’ll be here when you get up.”

She yawned, the word stay a soft echoing plea in her head that never passed her lips. Bucky reached over and pulled the blankets across them as Rosemarie already started to shiver. Typically he found the serum’s endurance enhancement’s side effect of insomnia infuriating, but tonight he was grateful for it. Watching her sleep in his arms like she needed him, clinging to his body every time he sighed or moved an inch. Then, despite usually only needing a few hours of shut eye a week, he drifted off into an unheard of peaceful, dreamless sleep. The last thing on his lips was a kiss to her temple and on his mind, no idea how he’d make it to Friday.

INTRO . CHAPTER 2 (Coming Soon!)

Taglist: @caplanbuckybarnes​

[seancekitsch]

For the shipping! The only fandom you write for that I’m interested in is Star Wars lol. I ship you with Hux! I think he’d be really attracted to your ambition and I think he’d appreciate how you don’t always feel the need to be the center of attention. Idk I just feel like he wouldn’t want to have a really showy/flashy S/O. I think he’d also really enjoy hearing you talk about the things you’re passionate about, especially education, since that was a big part of his childhood (1/?)

(2/? I hate how little space tumblr gives for asks) as for me, I tend to be someone who cares deeply about helping others and ensuring the world is a better place. I tend to be very shy but can talk someone’s ear off once I’m comfortable with them. I have a passion for literature, poetry, art, language, and history. I have mild ADHD so it can be hard for me to get tasks done sometimes. I’m very introverted but can have a good time in large social settings.

(3/3 sorry this is so many) I can be a little irritable at times but I’m generally easy going. As a side note, I have not seen Rogue One or Solo, and I am bisexual. And I tend to not be very physically active because I’ve thrown my knee out of place five times and had a major knee surgery. Also I highkey fucking love your blog I read through my favorite headcanons every day ✨✨✨

Thank you!! I really appreciate you saying that 💖 and thank you for the ship! I’d love to have literature debates and sip cocktails in the corner with my Hunny Armitage!!

I ship you with... Padme!

-I feel like the two of you would have endless things to talk about. She was educated in all things culture as well as politically so she would love discussing literature and different poets and what paintings stir emotion in her.

-The two of you have lovely dates in museums that you can go to and sit on the benches and discuss the exhibits for hours while in them. They’re cute all day dates soaking in the culture and history.

-Her favorite thing about you is how much you care about others. She couldn’t find herself with someone that doesn’t have that same drive to help the world as she does.

-Finding those ways to help where you can together. Lots of charity events that don’t even get publicized because you want to make a change without the galactic press interfering.

-Managing to be a couple that avoids the press pretty well unless it’s an organized event.

-When Padme wants something or someone, she goes for it. She’s very determined, so you being shy in the beginning is no issue for her. She works her way into your comfort zone quickly.

-Padme would have sought you out as Senator Padme, but once she started showing interest she would drop all of those formalities entirely. Vulnerability is one of her strong suits and it helps you fall for her quickly.

-She’s good at keeping you on track with tasks because of how organized and goal oriented she is.

-She’s secretly very glad that you’re introverted but good in bigger social settings, because she herself is pretty similar. She has to work the crowds and be able to socialize well, but a lot of the time she likes to get lost in the middle crowd with you where all of the minglers aren’t and kind of have this little bubble for just the two of you.

-You’re the type of couple to have endless recommendations for one another, whether your tastes are different or not, you know the subtle aspects or themes of different books or artists that the other will adore and your recommendations are always appreciated.

(1/20) ships are open!

[crayonwriting]

Irreplaceable You: 5 (Bucky Barnes)

Summary: Unexpectedly diagnosed with a terminal disease, you embark on a mission to find a new love for your fiancé and childhood best friend, Bucky Barnes.

Disclaimer: This story is a rewrite of the movie of the same title on Netflix. Directed by Stephanie Laing and written by  Bess Wohl. Go check it out!

—

You huffed as you exited the elevator. It was only your first day of support group and you didn't like it one bit. You swore to yourself that you'd never go back again. Ever.

"The whole point is to mingle." A voice piped up behind you. You turned around and saw Tony, with his arms crossed against his chest—a trademark you've noticed in the hour and a half you've met him.

"Not feeling up to it." You replied, pulling your bag higher up your shoulder.

"Neither does anybody. That's why we do it." He walked closer to you, holding out his hand. "Tony. Tony Stark. Multiple myeloma." He noticed your apprehensive expression as you shook his hand. "You've never heard of it?" He chuckled at your lack of a response, putting his hands on his hips.

"Stay a while." He encouraged.

"I'm not really a mingler."

"Not a crocheter either, apparently." He pointed to the ball of yarn in your hands.

"Didn't have time for pointless hobbies then, really don't have time for them now, and I'm especially uninterested in discovering that crocheting is a metaphor for healing or whatever."

"What you're feeling is totally normal."

"You know," you sighed heavily, biting your lip in frustration. "I wish people would stop telling me that totally insane things are totally normal."

"Insane things are normal." He snarkily remarked. You stared daggers at him. With all the pent up frustration you had in you, you suddenly burst out.

"Have you looked around?" You paused, waiting for an answer but he didn't say anything. "And you just accept that? You just accept everything that's going on? You make jokes about your wife having a new boyfriend?" You waved your hands around, emphasizing your point. When he just stared at you, you huffed out loud and turn to walk away.

"I don't accept it." Tony stated. You turned to look him. "But in the event that I do kick the bucket, I hope she does find a boyfriend. Somebody nice. Less well-endowed to be sure, but nice."

You weren't sure how to respond to that. You just shook your head and let your pride get the best of you.

"Well, I just think I am in a different situation. Sam and I met when we were kids, we've been together forever."

Tony chuckled. "How old is he?"

"Thirty-one."

"Oooh." Tony faked a pained expression. "Yep, he's gonna go through a major slut phase." You just stared at each other for a moment before bursting out in laughter.

"Thanks for the heads up." You smiled at him. He smiled back at you before turning around and pressing the button for the elevator.

"You come back." He pointed a finger and raised an eyebrow at you. You just shook your head, turning to walk out of the building.

"Nice to meet you, Tony."

"Nice to meet you, Y/N."

—

You stared intently at Bucky, memorizing his distinguishing features—his eyes, his wavy hair, the slope of his nose, his lips. You felt fluttering in your stomach at the sight of him. Almost immediately, you felt fear of how other women were looking at him. Of course, they wouldn’t look now because everybody knew your history. But what happens when you’re gone?

"Are you gonna go through a slut phase?" You had your chin rested on your palm as you stared at Bucky across the table. You both were eating dinner and you just can't stop thinking about what Tony had said.

"What? No." He said with a mouthful of noodles. "Why would you say that?"

"You're not even thinking about it?"

"That's the absolute furthest thing from my mind right now." He took another bite of his food before looking straight at you. "It's further than like meeting someone on Tinder." He chuckled softly at his statement.

"Okay," you started, "but Tinder can't be that far from your mind because you just said it, which means you had to be thinking about it, which means you're thinking about this too." You ranted. Bucky rolled his eyes at you, shaking his head with a smirk.

“Yeah. I'm busted.”

“I'm serious! I mean look at you.” You gestured to him. He just stared at you, waiting. You pointed a finger at him. “The puppy-dog eyes.”

“What?”

“The absent-minded professor thing.” You added.

“What do you mean absent-minded?”

You sighed. “This is a disaster.” You lay your head on top of the table, defeated.

“C’mon Y/N. What are you talking about?” He reached out and held your elbow.

“You don't know!” You were exasperated. “Because you have no experience.” You leaned in closer to him, pointing a finger. “Women are gonna eat you alive.” Bucky just scoffed and pulled back.

“I can take care of myself.” He argued.

“But what if you can't? Who's gonna match your socks or keep up with your glasses or make you chicken?”

“You don't make me chicken.”

“Yeah, I know. But I would,” you shrugged, “Hypothetically.”

“Well, our hypothetical chicken has been in the freezer for like a year.”

You furrowed your brows at him with determined eyes. You slammed your palm against the table and stood up, your chair screeching loudly against the floor. You stomped towards the refrigerator, pulling out the block of ice that is the chicken out of your freezer.

“What are you doing?” Bucky asked, looking incredulously at you.

“Figuring out how to cook a chicken.” You hastily grabbed your phone from your pocket. Bucky stood up, picking up both of your plates and headed to the kitchen sink.

“Now?” He asked.

“No time like the present.” You tapped on your phone and searched, ‘How do I cook a chicken?’ You scanned through the results and selected one article. You placed your phone beside you on the counter and started thawing the rock-hard chicken. Bucky laughed at how childish and adorable you were being. Passing by you to the sink, he kissed the top of your head.

"It's gonna be amazing."

—

You were at your fourth—or was it your fifth?—session. You and Scott had gotten pretty close. He was always talking and he was funny. He added color to the bleak walls of the hospital.

“Then how come at the end of Reloaded, Neo can just all of a sudden use his powers outside of the Matrix?” He crossed his legs and pursed his lips. “Explain that.”

“Because the entire Matrix was a metaphor!” You raised your hands in emphasis. “And if you can't see that, you're in the Matrix right now.” You smiled triumphantly, going back to scrolling through your phone.

“Alright. You win this round, Y/N.” He checked off some things from your chart and stood up. “I’ll check back on you later.”

You relaxed a little when you found yourself alone in your cubicle. You thought about how you would treat Scott to lunch sometime when you finally get better. Maybe you could even meet Cassie Lang, his daughter, that he was so proud of. Scott made your chemo sessions much more bearable and you were extremely grateful for that.

—

You found yourself alone in your apartment once again. Your puking has stopped for a few hours now, so you were good to do your normal daily activities. You did a few aerobics to stretch your muscles, cleaned out your closet of old clothes and stuff you thought weren’t important anymore.

When you were finally done with some chores, you sat down by the table, grabbing one of Bucky’s books. You also got a pad of sticky notes and a pen. Carefully, you wrote little messages and stuck them inside his textbooks. ‘Check your socks’, ‘Smile! X’, ‘Drink water pls :)’,’Too soon?’, were just a few of them.

You rested your chin on your palm, thinking about whether he’ll find the notes before or after you were gone.

—

“Hey Y/N, have you read the new Cleocatra?” Clint sat down beside you, clutching a few papers in his hands. “Marianne Hall's awesome. She writes this whole narrative about a feline in Ancient Egypt.” Clint impressively whistles. “I think we should take a meeting with her.” He looked at you but it seemed like you weren’t listening at all. You were sipping on some warm tea whilst scrolling through your phone.

“Y/N?”

“Oh, yeah. It's great. I love it.”

Clint caught a glimpse of your phone and he clapped loudly, earning the attention of all the people inside the library. It also snapped you out of your daze and you immediately looked at him.

“What the hell, Clint?” You whisper-shouted. Clint had a mischievous grin on his face and you found it annoying. He pointed to your phone and that’s when realization hit you. You dragged him to your back office where no one can see or hear the both of you.

Clint full-on laughed as you closed the office door.

“Did I see what I just saw? Are you on a dating app?” He chuckled harder. “The same dating app you told me to leave? And, what,” He took your phone from your hand and checked your screen. “Is cancer making you super horny for girls?”

You rolled your eyes at him, taking your phone back. You sat down on your desk and continued to swipe through potential matches.

“I am not horny for girls. And I don’t even know why people use these things.”

“You might be forgetting that I use it.” He dragged a vacant chair closer to your desk and sat on it, resting his arm and chin on the backrest. “It is interesting to know why you are on it.”

“I’m...researching.” You said, defensively.

“Researching what exactly?” Clint raised his eyebrows.

“Just! Just research Clint!” You smacked his arm, biting your lip to prevent yourself from laughing yourself. Clint eyed you warily. You stared back at him, keeping firm.

“Okay, okay.” He raised his hands up in defense. “I'm gonna set up this meeting and you do your ‘research’” He did air quotations with his fingers. “Just call me when everything backfires and hits you in your face.”

“Love you, Clint.” You blew him a kiss.

—

feedback is appreciated!

Tags: @blueskiesbleakeyes / @justanothergirlwithdemons / @butteryoptimisticpeanut /  @likes-to-smell-books /  @hennessy0274-blog

[marleythornes]

Not Your Average Frat Boy

@indie-dcrper

Marley felt like the air had left her chest. She was flushed, and it was making her hot. Blaine being sweet like this was not helping. Marley bit her lip as he kissed her cheek and she hummed happily. "The worst." She murmured her eyes slipping shut as she moved to kiss his lips gently. She wanted to stay like this with him forever. 

Blaine: Blaine always enjoyed a good party, was a great way to mingle with others and get to know new people. Also the alcohol helped. His friends told him to come by and he wasn't going to tonight as he needed to study but why not let loose a little and have some fun? He could study tomorrow anyways. So he found himself with a red solo cup in his hand, drinking whatever they poured into it and just enjoyed dancing around casually between the groups, he was a mingler and it showed. But soon enough he had finished his drink so he walked over to where there was more before he replaced his empty with a full cup, but as soon as he turned around he was bumped into and the contents tipped all over a girls shirt. Blaine's mouth dropped for a second before he put his cup down "Oh shit...I'm so sorry" he rushed out as he was going to turn to grab a towel or something but looking at her properly, she was a stunner and more of a natural beauty which he liked. He didn't have that thought for long before they were bumped into again and they were pushed together, Blaine wrapped his arm around her waist to stop her from falling "Hi yourself, you okay?" he leaned down to her ear so she could hear him as the music was loud. Marley: Marley swallowed thickly a blush tinting her cheeks. "I'm fine. The shirt will dry anyways." She replied shivering as he stayed close to speak in her ear. "I'm Marley by the way." She replied with a soft giggle. Blaine: Blaine tilted his head before he shrugged off his jacket he had on, putting it over her shoulders to at least keep her warm as the liquid dried up "I'm Blaine, I think I have seen you around and I wish I stopped you to chat" he smirked as he looked around them, it was getting busier by the second "C'mere" he said into her ear, he grabbed two more drinks for them before leading her to the back of the house, he knew it well enough and people didn't go down this way as it was just the spare bedrooms, bathroom and lounge which was usually blocked off. Marley: Marley smiled as she followed after him and hummed softly. "Do you know the host or something?" She teased. "You seem to know the house intimately." Blaine: Blaine looked over his shoulder as she spoke "I go to parties fairly often so I know this house pretty well, I also am friends with a few people who live here so I know this end of the house isn't used when parties are on" he replied before he opened one of the bedroom doors so they could actually talk "I'm still sorry for spilling my drink on you" he commented as he sat down on the bed, holding out the other drink for her. Marley: Marley smiled as she nodded and took the drink glancing at the contents before downing the whole cup. "Um, thanks for the jacket. I think I might actually wear it so my shirt can sit out to dry." She said and smiled slipping off the jacket. Blaine: Blaine nodded in agreement s she downed her drink, raising his cup before he followed suit and downed it. Arching his brow before chuckling "Well..." he lead off as he stood to join her "You are just gorgeous" he mumbled as he trailed his fingers down her side lightly. Marley: Marley smiled her eyes finding his again as she went onto her toes and kissed his lips experimentally. Blaine: When their eyes met, Blaine could tell what was happening and when her lips met his lightly, he looked at her for a second before pressing his lips to hers a little more firmly whilst his arms wrapped around her waist to pull her against his chest. Marley: Marley kissed him deeper as she hummed and moaned softly. "You are a good kisser." She murmured softly kissing him again. Blaine: Blaine smirked as he kissed her deeply, biting her lip gently "It's not the only thing I'm good at" he whispered before their lips met again, this time Blaine backed them onto the bed, his body covering hers as they kissed deeply. Marley: Marley moaned deeply as she let her arms wrap around him as she fell back with a squeal and giggle. She let her hands slide down his chest to toy with the hem of his shirt. Blaine: Blaine moulded his body to Marley's, rolling his hips a little before he moaned himself as her hands slid down his chest, sending tingles through his body before he lift up a little bit so he could start unbuttoning his shirt and also so he could look down at her. Marley: Marley smiled as she unbuttoned his shirt and looked up at him smirking. Blaine: Blaine watched as she unbuttoned his shirt for him, smiling down at her before shrugging out of it to reveal his bare chest before he worked on her shirt as she was going to take it off anyways. He leaned down and kissed her neck before pulling her shirt off and kissing her collarbone. Marley: Marley let out another soft moan. "Mm, Blaine. Fuck!" She gasped arching her back softly. Blaine: Grinning as he got the reaction he wanted, he grazed his teeth along her collarbone before licking then kissing it before moving to the other side. All the while he was unbuttoning her jeans. Marley: Marley felt herself start to pant gently. Her head fell back as she reached up to tease his nipples. Blaine: Blaine moaned when she teased him, he pulled her jeans down quickly before pressing his lips back to hers, needing her desperately by this point. Marley: Marley moaned as she kissed him deeply needing him inside of her. "Blaine, please, I want you so bad." She whimpered softly. Blaine: Blaine moaned in agreement before he unbuttoned and pulled his own pants down, "I need you too" he panted before grabbing a condom from his pants, quickly rolling it on and pressing inside her. Marley: Marley cried out as he entered her and she clenched down on him tightly as if her body were trying to pull him in deeper. Blaine: Blaine moaned loudly as she clenched around him, he gripped her hips tight as he began thrusting into her, going slow but getting faster. Marley: Marley was moaning loudly as she arched her back Blaine: Blaine thrusted harder into her, pressing his lips to hers as he moaned her name and many swear words. Marley: Marley whined as she felt the tension that had been building in her snap as she came. Blaine: Blaine let out a yell as she came around him, ripping his own orgasm out of him as he continued to thrust into her before he collapsed but trying not to put all his weight on her before catching his breath. Marley: Marley smiled pulling him down to hold him close after her orgasm. "B-Blaine, that felt so nice." She murmured.

Blaine: Blaine chuckled before kissing her neck gently "Mmm I bet, you're shaking" he mumbled against her skin

Marley: Marley smiled as she caught her breath. "It feels so nice though." She smiled. "I also feel very drunk." She giggled. "Are you drunk too?"

Blaine: Blaine nodded "It truly fucking does" he looked to her and chuckled "Maybe just a little bit" he kissed her softly before slowly pulling out and collapsing beside her.

Marley: Marley giggled softly gasping as he pulled out of her. She hummed moving to kiss him. "So, tell me about yourself." She murmured.

Blaine: Blaine kissed her gently, wrapping an arm around her before pulling back, sighing in content "What do you want to know exactly?"

Marley: Marley shrugged gently. "Something you dont tell people that often." She smiled looking into his eyes.

Blaine: Blaine hummed a little before he spoke "I can sing, which no one really knows"

Marley: "No way! I slept with future Justin Timberlake?!" She teased. "I would love to hear you sing sometime." She murmured genuinely. "That is an interesting face though, I give you that."

Blaine: Blaine laughed gently before shaking his head "I'm not that good, come now" he looked at her before shrugging a little "Alright your turn"

Marley: "Ooh! Turning the tables!" She giggled before biting her lip and humming in thought. "Hmm, ooh! Alright, up until the spring I thought I was going to have to do porn to be able to afford university. I found out last minute the student ahead of me for a full ride dropped out. But it was close." She said and shrugged. "Tag, you're it."

Blaine: Blaine raised his brow curiously as he leaned on his elbow to look down at her with a smirk "Porn huh? I bet that was an interesting thought for you" he joked before chuckling a little "Hmm...I started a fight club in high school because of my middle school experience'

Marley: Marley giggled. "Yeah, porn. Not my greatest achievement." She said and blushed brightly. "A fight club?!" She giggled excitedly. "That is amazing! And honestly, the though of you beating a punching bag is insanely sexy." She giggled.

Blaine: Blaine grinned "I mean it is college, it's all about finding yourself or whatever" he chuckled before nodding, biting his lip a little "You should come by my dorm room, I have a punching bag as I don't have to share a room"

Marley: Marley smiled brightly at him. "Is that an invitation for a second date? A first date?" She asked becoming confused.

Marley: as the alcohol fully set in.*

Blaine: Blaine laughed as he pulled her ontop of him "Is that what you want? A date" he teased

Marley: Marley bit her lip as she was on top of him and she hummed. "That sounds nice." She hummed. "Not that this wasn't nice!" She rushed to say.

Blaine: Blaine ran his hand along her spine lightly before laughing a little at her quick reassurance "Don't worry, I kind of got the idea you enjoyed yourself" Blaine teased before speaking "I've not been on a lot of dates"

Marley: Marley shivered at the gentleness of his touch. "I-I y-yeah..." she blushed. "Neither have I." She murmured.

Blaine: Blaine raised his brow before rolling ontop of her quickly "So is this another first them"

Marley: Marley blushed brightly as he rolled them over to be on top. Her cheeks burned as she bit her lip and hummed. "I have been out once. But I dont even think it was a date." She murmured.

Blaine: Blaine arched his brow curiously, the alcohol running through his system was still very much there, "Why do you think it wasn't?"

Marley: "Well, for one, he was an asshole. He tried to feel me up at the dinner table. We both paid, and he wouldn't give me his number aft wer r." She murmured and shrugged.

Blaine: Blaine nodded "Understandable, sounds like an asshole and acted like one too" he mumbled before watching her for a moment before kissing her cheek gently.

[livelovelaug-h]

Irreplaceable you pt 1

Sam x reader

Summary- inspired by the movie irreplaceable you. Sickness/cancer and a lot of emotions. Definitely grab a box of tissues.

You: "What if we stayed in bed all day?"

" That sounds like the best day ever. We should stay here all week."

You: "What if we got bored?"

"Us, bored? When have we ever been bored?"

" What if we got hungry? What would we do for food?

Sam: "Well, we could order takeout and have it delivered right there."

"you know dean would come in and make us get up."

Sam laughs "Stop. Stop worrying."

~~~~~~~

Full disclosure:

I didn't have to worry about any of that, because this is where my story ends. So does yours, by the way. So does everyone's.

It's okay. Really.

Most of it I don't miss at all.

One with nature.

Really.

Calm. Peaceful.

But then, there's Sam.

Sam was... is the love of my life.

Sams walking to your grave. You narratoring: " Hi, Sam."

Sam by your grave: "Hi, y/n."

But let's start at the beginning.

~~~~~

Even with being a hunter, you were so excited. You were late for your period, it had been a couple weeks late. Now it felt like you were bloated like maybe a baby bump showing.

"Sam?"

"Hey what's up ?" He answers as you walk into the library.

"I kind of have some good news." Siting down next to him.

"oh yeah what's that ?"

You smile big "well... we need to make a doctors appointment. Because... I think I'm pregnant. I haven't had my period for about two months."

His turn to smile real big "really????" You nod.

"This so great, I'm gonna be a dad.!" He hugs you and kissed your forehead then nose and then lips. "And I'm gonna be a mom."

You set up your doctors appointment for about a week later. You were getting some stomach pains. You got up to throw away your wrapper when:. "ah ouchhh".

'Why does this hurt so much.' you thought.

You were waiting for the doctor to come back and confirm your good news !

There's a big picture of a baby inside of a belly showing the insides and sam says

"that picture makes it look gross and painful."

"that's not helpful!" The doctor comes in:

"I'm so sorry to keep you waiting."

"Um, y/n, I have some difficult news. The blood test shows that you are not pregnant.

Oh. Sam grabs ahold of your hands and squeezes them.

" Are you sure?"

"Yes."

"Oh, okay." It felt like someone just ripped your heart out but you couldn't believe it. Sam started rubbing your arms and hands.

"I guess that's okay. I- I mean, the whole thing was kind of a surprise... Yeah. We probably weren't even ready."

" Right-"

"It-it-it's just.. its weird 'cause, um, I know it's super early but I really feel something there." You say.

"The sonogram shows that you have a mass in your pelvis roughly the size of a tangerine. It can mimic pregnancy."

"A mass?"

"What kind of a mass?" Sam asks. He looked pretty discouraged to.

[Dr. Michaelson] "I don't want you guys to panic, because it couldbe nothing."

There's this moment

when everything changes.

You look back, and there was the moment before.

See that person?

Flashback to a few minutes -

"It's not helpful!"

She's thinking about whether she's hoping for a boy or a girl, and tiny fingers and toes, and then...

[Dr. Michaelson] "I'm so sorry to keep you waiting."

[you] and now Suddenly...

End of flashback

~~~~~~~~

You and Sam were laying down in bed:

"At least we won't have to pay for college." You say.

"Unless it's a really smart tumor... Too soon?" He says.

You sigh "It's too soon."

"A tangerine is better than an orange." You say.

"Or a grapefruit."

"Right. Or, um... What's bigger than a grapefruit?"

both of you say "A watermelon."

Cas can't heal you because he's human so there is really no other option.

.... At the doctors again .....

Did I say that was the moment?

[Dr. Kessler] "It's two tangerines and a grapefruit."

Correction, this is the moment.

"That's a lot of fruit."

[Dr. Kessler] "Uh, the tests have shown that it is cancer. And I know how hard this must be to hear. It's incredibly rare in someone your age. It's just... It's just terrible luck. Now we can talk aboutoptions whenever you're ready."

"Is there one that doesn't involve dying?" You ask.

[Dr. Kessler] "Uh, I-I've already consulted with a colleague, and after the initialsurgery, there's a clinical trial I'd like to enroll you in"

"You didn't answer my question."

Did he answer my question?

[Dr. Kessler] "We don't like to make predictions. But in addition to your treatment, I want to talk to you about your quality of life. Uh, we can help with pain management and some palliative care. And also some people have found great solace from supportgroups. I know this is a terribleshock, but let's take it one day at a time."

You knew you would go out one day probably hunting, but not like this. Not cancer.

"hello yes I would like to cancel my subscription to you guys."

"oh why is that?"

"I just have cancer now so I figured I wouldn't really be exercising."

"oh that's terrible. Are you sure you want to cancel?"

"yes . ... I am."

~~~~~ later that night ~~~~~~

Sam: "how you feeling?"

"I'm scared."

"It's-It's gonna be okay."

"What if I die?"

"We're gonna fight this, I'll always be there for you"

~~~~

Your laying on the floor because They say after surgery there's gonna be some minor discomfort.

It's Stage IV cancer.

Nothing is minor.

Nothing is comfortable.

Your doctor talking :

"So, let's, um, let's take another look at the proposed model for auto-associative memory and its constituent neural network."

'Or not. Let's not and say we did. Class dismissed.' you think.

you're walking to the other clinic and the guy greets me. "Hey."

"Hi."

"How's it going? I'm Dominic."

"y/n, Nice to meet you."

"I'm gonna be running your treatment suite."

"Treatment suite? "

"Oh, yeah, don't get excited. It doesn't even have four walls. Uh, go ahead and grab a seat right there. For the next time, you're probably gonna want to bring your own pillow in from home. You're also gonna need your cell phone with headphones and grab a magazine. Some of these guys tend to hoard 'em. You're gonna end up reading an old ripped up copy of Duck Enthusiast.

"Oh. It's okay, I don't read Duck Enthusiast. "

"Yeah, well, you will. All right, feet up. " he says.

"Uh, yes, you will feel like shit after this, but it's different for everybody. And no, your hair isn't gonna fall out right away. And besides, it looks like you have plenty of it, so you're doing good. Uh, and if you need snacks, you got to bring them from home."

Great. Just great.

You walk into one of the support groups.

"Hey."

"Come on in. We're just getting started. " the girl says. "Go grab yourself a hook and yarn."

One of the people in the group start saying "have you heard of Catholic yoga? It's a full Latin Mass with vinyasa yoga positions, and I come out... "

"You serious? " someone asks. "yeah!"

"How is Estelle holding up?"

"She's good. There's a new hawk in Central Park. Every morning we go out there and watch the little guy. I hope she keeps up the bird-watching after I'm gone. With whatever new guy she's banging.

[laughs]

"Welcome to group." they all say. "It's the way we roll."

" We have fun. "

"Cool." you say. The end of session finishes up and you start walking away when the guy who was talking about the bird calls to you.:

"The whole point is to mingle. "

"Not feeling up to it. " you say.

"Neither does anybody. That's why we do it. Myron. Multiple myeloma. You've never heard of it? Stay a while. " he says.

"I'm not really a mingler. "

"Not a crocheter either, apparently. "

"Didn't have time for pointless hobbies then, really don't have time for them now, and I'm especially uninterested in discovering that crocheting is a metaphor for healing or whatever."

"What you're feeling is totally normal." Myron says.

"You know, I wish people would stop telling me that totally insane things are normal."

"Have you looked around? "

"But you just accept that? You just accept everything that's going on? You make jokes about your wife having a new boyfriend?"

"I don't accept it, but in the event that I do kick the bucket, I hope she does find a boyfriend. Somebody nice. Less well-endowed to be sure, but nice. "

"Well, I just think I am in a different situation. Sam and I met when we were kids, and then started dating 10 years ago."

"How old is he? "

" Thirty-five."

"Yeah, he's gonna go through a major slut phase."

You laugh.

"I also have Tourette's."

You- "Good to know."

"Yeah. You come back."

"Nice to meet you, Myron."

"Nice to meet you, y/n."

"And thanks for the advice. "

" All right"

~~~~~~~~~~~

"Are you gonna go through a slut phase?" You ask Sam.

"What? No. Why would you say that?"

"You're not even thinking about it?"

"That's the absolute furthest thing from my mind right now. It's further than like meeting someone on Tinder." You chuckle.

"Okay, but Tinder can't be that far from your mind because you just said it, which means you had to be thinking about it, which means you're thinking about this too."

"Yeah. I'm busted." Sam says.

"I'm serious. Look at you. The puppy-dog eyes.

"What?"

" This is a disaster. "

Sam: "What are you talking about?"

"You don't know. Because you have no experience. Women are gonna eat you alive."

" I can take care of myself."

"I know But what if you can't? Who's going to get you to go to bed and stop researching? Who's going to make you real food?"

"you don't make me real food."

"Yeah, but I would, hypothetically. "

"Well, our hypothetical food has been in the freezer for like a year." You got up and started near the kitchen.

"What are you doing?"

"Figuring out how to cook a real meal."

"Now?"

"No time like the present."

"How do I cook a chicken?" You say into the phone.

[Siri] Let me think about that.

Okay, I found this on the web for "How do I cook a chicken?"

"It's gonna be amazing."

~~~~~~~~~~

Just 'cause you're dying

doesn't mean your life stops.

Sam has been through so much so maybe if you found him a new girl, he wouldn't think about your passing.

In group support-

"And so, uh, when my numbers came back this time, I just, honestly, I just thought I can't keep fighting."

[Kate] "Jim, you don't have to go there. 'Cause it's all about attitude. "

"Well, let's let Jim have his process."

[Kate] "Oh, absolutely. Yeah. I just think that his process should be more positive. Everyone is entitled to... to be sad."

"Thank you."

"You know what I'm loving these days is meditation. And I... I know it sounds trite, but I just have been feeling so blessed every time I sit there in silence. Maybe you could try that now?

You laugh.

"Or we could laugh."

"That's okay too. "

" Sorry. I'm sorry. Just... Some of these women are so cheesy. "I want to dip you in whipped cream and put my cherry on top." What does that even mean, anatomically speaking?" You ask.

"Using a sundae model as a sexual proposition. It is confusing. I have to s... " Myron says.

"I mean, cherry... cherry's got to be a hymen, right?" You ask.

"Probably a busted hymen." You giggle.

[Kate] "Mm-hmm."

"I... I, um... mine broke on a horse. And me, I was born without one. So... It was my favorite horse, though. " ......

"Okay, uh, that's about it for today. "

~~~~~~~~~~

"Were you sexting just now?" Myron asks while you sitting down looking through tinder.

"Let me have my process." You say.

"Your process is sexting?"

"You're the one who said Sam would go through a slut phase. I thought you were crazy, but then I thought about it more, and he's gonna be a chick magnet. he already is And the worst part is, he's gonna have no idea how to handle it because he's going to be too sad. He hasn't dated to many people in his life. He's gonna be lonely and vulnerable. He already lost his fiance."

"Classic rookie mistake. " Myron states.

"What are you talking about? "

"Thinking you can do something to lessen the loss. There's a word for what you're doing. It's a technical term. You want to know it?"

You: "No, thanks."

"Anticipatory grieving.' Trying to cope with the loss before it happens. So, Meryl over there writes a birthday card to her husband for every year she's gonna be gone, and Jim... makes a video montage of himself as Santa for all the Christmases he's gonna miss with his kids. It doesn't change anything. Look, what do I know? My advice? You're hooking him up, concentrate on a booty. Yours, you know, it's... it's flat."

You laugh "My booty is not flat."

"You have a terrible ass. "

"Fuck you."

"Here, give me that. Oh, you got a match. Sexypants89."

"Okay, let me see that."

~~~~~~~~~~

You started interviewing girls that Sam got a match on from tinder at a coffee shop.

To be continued.

[dis-boi-be-a-gay-peter]

The Nerd's Prom

-Part 1-

Peter Parker x Male! Reader

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

[WARNINGS: None; typos]

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

It was the day. Not just any day; THE day. The day that (Y/N) dreaded.

FRIDAY.

I can already hear your thoughts; "Friday? What's so bad about Friday? Isn't that the last day of the school week? Students can't WAIT for Fridays! I think you have Friday and Monday mixed up." And you would be right...

... if Friday wasn't prom night.

Thats right. Later that night, couples were going to show up and discreetly brag to those who don't have a date. A jock was going to be elected for prom king while a nerdy girl was going to be elected prom queen, only to do something to her like pour a bucket of slime on her beautiful dress (most likely planned out by the cheerleaders).

(Y/N) would of been fine with Friday, but it seemed like everyone was pressuring him to get a date. All of his friends kept droning on about how they have someone they're going with, and it was always followed with the words "who are you going with". (Y/N) wasn't dating anyone, and he really didn't feel like finding someone. Besides, with how close prom was, everyone was either going with a date, a group of friends, or just not going. Finding a date would take FOREVER.

"(Y/N)?? (Y/N)!!"

The said male lazily looked over in the direction of the voice. "Hmm?"

It was MJ. She sits next to him in his English class, which was where they were, right now. MJ and (Y/N) knew each other for a little while. Actually, just a year. He met her and Peter in the beginning of the school year, and eventually got introduced to Ned.

"I was wondering what your plans were for tonight," she said, looking satisfied that she finally got his attention.

(Y/N) pretended to think about this. "Uh... I'm just gonna sit at home. Y'know, watch Netflix... eat some junk food..."

He was interrupted by MJ. "Seriously?" She scoffed. "That's all?"

"Well, I don't have a date," (Y/N) pointed out.

"Then you should come with me, Peter, and Ned," MJ suggested. "We don't have dates, either. We're gonna be the single-yet-hot minglers." She jokingly snapped her fingers in a sharp and sassy fashion, making (Y/N) roll his eyes.

"Guess that sounds more fun than sitting at home with my (mom/dad/sibling)," the male chuckled. "I just gotta call them and let them know the plans."

Mj smirked. "Great!" she exclaimed rather loudly, making the English teacher look at the two weirdly. She noticed the stares and sheepishly chuckled. "Right. We're still in class."

(Y/N) rolled his eyes. He had no clue how he found such an interesting friend.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

The sound of lockers slamming echoed through the halls as students gathered what they needed to go home. (Y/N) added to the sounds by slamming his own locker shut, his backpack slung over his shoulder. The male turned around to walk away from the lockers when he heard his name being called.

"(Y/N)!!"

The said boy turned around to see MJ, Ned, and Peter walking towards him. He waited for them to catch up while MJ picked up the pace, Ned and Peter barely able to catch up.

"What's up?" (Y/N) asked, putting a hand on his waste.

"Did you tell your (mom/dad/sibling) that you were going to prom??" Ned asked with energy, holding his book that read The Complete Guide To LEGO Star Wars on the cover.

"Yeah," you replied. "I contacted them during 7th period. They said it was okay."

"7th period?" Peter repeated. "In the middle of class??"

(Y/N) chuckled, his ears turning a light hue of red, at Peter's raised eyebrows. "No. Well, yes, but the teacher was out in the hallway, talking to one of those class clowns in my class. I took it as an advantage." He went up to scratch his left ear, taking note that it felt warm.

"Well, Peter's aunt will be up at your place around...." MJ looked at the time on her phone. "The time she decides to arrive."

(Y/N) rolled his eyes at MJ's vagueness. "Thank you for the specifics."

MJ only jerkily smiled, walking away. Ned was trailing behind MJ, already talking about some nerdy stuff. However, Peter stayed right in front of (Y/N), seemingly dazed.

"Peter?" (Y/N) questioned. "Peeeeter??" He started to wave his hand in front of the (shorter/taller/eye-level) male.

Peter blinked a couple of times, slightly shaking his head and realising he was staring at (Y/N). "O-Oh! Sorry. I was... thinking."

(Y/N) rolled his eyes. "Wish I could see what was going on in that head," he joked.

A laugh came from Peter as he blushed. "Just a bunch of math and smart stuff," he shrugged, walking away. "See you later, (Y/N)!"

(Y/N) waved goodbye at him, even though Peter's back was towards him. The (eye colour) eyes of the male watched Peter walk away until his figure disappeared in the crowd. He gave out a little dreamy sigh, shaking his head at Peter's words. It was cute how he would space out like that and- wait...

'Cute?!' (Y/N) thought to himself with wide eyes. 'Heh... sometimes, I disgust myself...'

He started to walk off, but still kept the fact that he used the word "cute" to describe Peter in the back of his mind.

'He's a guy... I'm a guy... we're both friends. And ONLY friends. Nothing more.'

...

'Right?'

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

{Part 2 on its way! This was getting a little lengthy, so I decided to make in into parts.}

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

You guys can thank @lord-halloweeny for this story idea, and even for this account idea!

[horrorincokc]

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@vintyvanora | originally this was inspiration for something else, but then this happened so I ran with it

He got a chance to redeem himself.

The Winter Ball the Inquisition held, he wasn’t able to attend. It was a last-minute thing, but there was a contingent of soldiers who had gone out for supplies a few days beforehand, and never come back. In Commander Cullen’s absence, Maretus stepped up and lead the search for them himself. It took him far down the mountain passes, however, beyond even the herbalist’s hut that Vanora got her own supplies from, and he so he wasn’t even in Skyhold when the Winter Ball happened. It struck him one night, while he and a handful of soldiers were camped up against a copse of trees, that it was going on, and he wouldn’t be able to show Vanora that he really did know how to dance without stepping on her feet. Maretus wondered if she would dance with many others.

In the end, he was able to locate most of the soldiers---two of them were lost to a demon attack, but the rest were rescued and brought back. He delivered the wounded and one with a fever to Vanora’s healers himself, though she wasn’t there. He couldn’t even apologize for not being around.

The seasons turned, and as luck---or something---would have it, the southerners celebrated the oncoming of summer. Which, to Maretus, made sense; as soon as the weather started truly warming up and the sun was in the sky longer, he felt like celebrating himself. As such, they were preparing another big party on the grounds of Skyhold.

Buntings and colored streamers of cloth were strung up all around the courtyards, both upper and lower, and a variety of lanterns were scattered about, either nestled in the grass or hanging amid the colorful array of cloth. Everyone was in good spirits not only due to the celebration, or the weather finally turning nice, but the Inquisitor was making good headway in gathering a fair amount of allies. No one had tried to attack Skyhold, the troops were steadily learning new tactics; it all made for a combination amounting to a pleasant buzz.

After a few days’ preparation, Summerday arrived, and the festivities went into full swing. The kitchens were pumping out food as if they were run by a magic force, and both Ambassador Montilyet and the Iron Bull had pulled their respective strings to get in an army’s worth of wines and beers, and even some good brandies and whiskies to go around. Much to Maretus’ delight, there were even some liquors from Tevinter present, and he grabbed an entire bottle of sweetened desi daru he spotted before anyone else could happen upon its existence.

Music drifted through each of the courtyards, minstrels and bards working in unison together for each section to get the people dancing and laughing. It was a right festival, and even Maretus found a smile tug unbidden to his face, and his feet tapping out a rhythm.

As the day dimmed into night and the light of the lanterns multiplied to keep the party going, he saw many familiar faces of soldiers, allies, and members of the Inquisition, though lingered with none of them. He wasn’t much of a mingler in general, and a festive occasion was no different. Luckily, he was much better than when he was younger, being far more at ease with himself and not so stiff---though he was sure that most people would still accuse of being so, he really wasn’t as bad as he was a decade ago, when he was still required to attend political and military balls during his tenure.

So, he meandered his way through the clusters of people, bottle cradled in hand. Though he did not particularly relish the idea of throwing himself in the middle of things, he did find that he enjoyed watching everyone else. It wasn’t like the soirees in Tevinter, where every motion and word was calculated and watched hawkishly, but something much simpler, of people just... having fun. It was refreshing to witness.

That thought sobered him a bit. He’d been with the Inquisition for some time, and still he felt like an outsider. It’d been so long since he stayed in one place for any true length of time, or considered himself part of a group. But, here, he has soldiers to train again, and it almost feels like he could fit in---but then he sees the way some of the people in Skyhold look at him askance, and he remembers that he looks like the face of their enemy. Sometimes, he wonders if he’d never left to begin with, if he’d truly be their enemy now.

That was too sober a thought for the occasion, though, and Maretus did his best to banish it. He took another healthy drink from his bottle, relishing the sweetness of it and feeling the surge of memories from the camps of the Perivantium Legion well in him.

“What’s that you have there?”

A familiar voice cut through his thoughts, and Maretus lifted his gaze to meet with Vanora’s. He lifted his shoulders in an easy shrug. “Desi daru,” he said. “Somehow, I don’t think the locals here truly appreciate it’s subtleties.”

She gave a full, throaty laugh that had his insides shifting strangely, pleasantly, in response. After, a smirk perched upon her lips, she settled on him a truly mischievous look. “What, they don’t want to go blind from foreign alcohol?”

With an exaggerated huff, because he was already nearly halfway through the bottle, he shook it slightly at her. “This is actually pretty decent. It’s not like the things we used to hide in our packs in the Legion. That was some dangerous stuff.”

The light that danced in her eyes threatened to make his heart skip a few beats. His grip tightened imperceptibly on the bottle’s neck. “I can’t imagine you sneaking in contraband anywhere, really.”

Maretus laughed then, too. “Oh, it wasn’t contraband by any means. Out in eastern Tevinter, this stuff was the norm in every local village. Some of it definitely went down like death’s cousin. But this,” he lifted the bottle again, “is actually pretty good. Want to try some?”

She eyed him suspiciously, but eventually accepted, and they took turns passing the bottle back and forth for a while after that, amid more comfortable conversation. Eventually the liquor ran low, and he handed it over to her one last time.

“You can finish it,” he said.

Vanora took the bottle from him, swirled the last of the alcohol, then downed it. “You were right,” she began.

His eyebrows lifted. “I know.”

A chuckle escaped through her nose. “You didn’t even let me finish.”

“I know what you were going to say.”

“You know me that well, hm? Well, what am I going to say next?” He enjoyed the challenging look she threw his way, so he decided to play along.

“Something about needing food,” he guessed, knowing he was wrong.

Vanora laughed, and he drank up the sound. “Wrong. I like this song,” she said, and he tilted his head to listen more carefully.

The music had shifted since he last paid any attention to it. Somehow, when Vanora was around, she took up nearly all his focus. It wasn’t something he did consciously, but still it happened.

“Do you want to dance?” Maretus asked her suddenly.

She looked at him with her mouth slightly parted, as if she wasn’t quite sure how to answer. He wondered if she was remembering the lesson she’d given him in the abandoned room in one of Skyhold’s towers.

“I suppose,” Vanora ventured, “if you’re not going to step on my foot again.”

Maretus stood from the bench they’d been sitting on for a while, and offered her his hand. “I’ll do my best.”

She slipped her hand, soft and cool, into his, and he drew her to her feet as well. She set the bottle aside and allowed him to lead her a few steps away from their bench. He pulled her closer, settling his other hand on her hip as she slid her free hand up his arm to rest on his shoulder. Immediately, he took the lead, pressing and pulling and directing her with an ease he hadn’t shown during their lessons. That was partially due to the desi daru loosening him, but also because he’d actively worked on shaking the dust off his memory of dances he’d learned while rising through the ranks of the Legion. He wanted to show her he could dance.

So it was with an unexpected grace that he turned them about, leading her in a simple dance in time with the music. She stepped closer to him; his hand slipped further along the small of her back, palm spread against the curve of her spine. Somewhere along the way, she pressed nearly flush against him, a bit breathless, matching the hitch of breath in his own throat. She smelled of fresh soap and lavender, and Maretus felt more drunk off that than any of the desi daru he’s had all evening. He was acutely aware of the way she fit bracketed between his shoulders.

Then, all at once, the song ended, and she stepped in closer at the same time he did, and they closed whatever small gap had remained between them. His heart thudded in his chest, but he chuckled and stepped back, trying to ignore it. She laughed, hand lifting to cover her mouth, and it wasn’t difficult for him to imagine her draped in finer clothes and jewelry. She’d dressed up for the Summerday celebration like everyone else, but the motion she’d made had him thinking she might have been better suited to silks and linens than cotton and wool.

Her voice cut through his wayward thoughts. “Well, that was much better than last time. You didn’t step on my feet at all.”

Maretus found himself staring unabashedly at her face, his attention snagged on the wisps of hair that framed her face, and the way the curve of her neck looked in the firelight. It was then he realized her usual braid was pinned up, exposing the lean line of her throat, and he felt something drop in his stomach at the thought of pulling out the pins that held it in place and letting the dark of her hair tumble down.

“I’m a quick learner,” he heard himself say.

She laughed, her eyes bright in the lantern light. “So I see.”

“It helps to have a good teacher,” he added, immediately recognizing the looseness of his tongue and cursing it.

Another smirk settled across her mouth. “I’m glad to have such an apt student.”

Any lesson you’d give, he thought before he could stop it. What in the endless void did that even mean? Maretus pushed it away, echoing a ghost of her smirk back to her. His held a touch of bashfulness, and he couldn’t stop himself from casting his gaze away from hers. She spoke again before he could think of how to respond.

“I might want to have another go. Make sure it wasn’t a fluke.”

He looked up at her, her eyes still bright with mirth in the dim light. The desi daru bled warmth through him. “I think I can accommodate that,” he agreed, extending his hand again for her to take.

[tamersmile888]

Not So Berry Challenge Candie Edition: Rose Play 2

Cheri wakes up highly annoyed. It's hot, she's bored, and she just wants to get out of the house. She calls up Enele asking where they're going today because she's sweating off her face mask in this heat—and then she's cut off by his “voice message” informing her to leave her complaints in the complaint box at the sound of the beat. Enele starts blasting music and asks if she has any plans in mind. Cheri smirks and says that's why she called him.

In the background, she hears Enele's laptop narrator announce that the Romance Festival is today. Enele asks if she feels like falling in love today. Elisha might be there. He knows how she likes older guys.

Cheri cringes and assures him that her little kiddie crush is over. But she wouldn't object to his much younger sibling if he has one. Romance Fest sounds cool. Besides, she's starving and street food sounds so good right now. They make plans to meet up for a trip into the city.

And....it's raining. Cheri points out that it does help with the heat and commends Enele on his choice. Enele says it's probably not a good sign for the lovers out here though.

Looking at the turnout, Cheir assumes there's not going to be much romance happening anyway. The place is pretty much a lonely island. Enele says that's great. Less awkward encounters with strangers throwing petals in their faces. Cheri's like, for real. She heard that sometimes people even put their phone numbers on them.

Searching the hopeful faces of single minglers, she spots a familiar one...

Roci...What's she doing here? Cheri tells Enele that Roci goes to her school. She's part of the Dare Me club who think they own the school. Enele's confused. Wasn't her mom in that club? Cheri says yeah, but back then it was innocent, for the most part. It was about having fun and meeting new people. This new gen takes it way too far. She hooks her arm with his and leads him over to the vendors for some food away from the mischief maker.