#the more i look at this the more fruitier this looks

[selenealwayscries]

in what fucking world would you need to put this frame in your stageplay trailer

[marsixm]

drama w the management at work literally has me on my taylor swift rn like hes literally cheer captain and im on the bleachers fr fr 😔

[khruschevshoe]

I don't care what you say about the 60th anniversary specials. David Tennant's Doctor has never been fruitier than whatever the hell he was doing in Utopia. The way he looks at Professor Yana? Whatever the hell kind of vibes he was putting off in his conversation with Jack in the radiation chamber? Ignoring the two people who currently fancy you in exchange for looking near-worshipfully at your evil ex in human form because he embodies hope? Telling your other ex that you can't stand to look at him because he's wrong yet being more honest with him than you have anyone else for a long, long time? Unhinged queer icon. Who needs healthy admissions of feeling when you have whatever the hell kind of subtext-rising-to-text these two moments are conveying

[obessedwithfictionalmen]

Too sweet

John Egan X RedCross! Reader

Summary: When Y/n breaks up with Harry Crosby, Bucky goes to help her...

Warning: Asshole!Harry Crosby/+18/ smut/ riding/ unprotected sex/ p in v/ hickey/ swearing/ kissing/ alcohol/ use of Y/n

Word count: 2.7k

The band was playing as Y/n and Harry Crosby made their way into the room. It was a party for someone’s 25th mission. Y/n was excited to drink what the barman was going to propose, words on the street was that he was good with fruity drinks. It was something new for the base, they usually drank whiskey, rhum and coca cola. ‘’I’ve heard that he makes new drinks, fruitier than your usual whiskey’’ she joked, but Crosby was not laughing. He was growing tired of Y/n’s sunshine personality. He liked her, but he liked her body more. They were just having sex at first, to blow off some steam, but Y/n started to visit him, and Crosby didn’t have to balls to tell her that it was just sex.

‘’He doesn’t deserve her’’ John Egan said to his friend, Buck. ‘’I completely agree with you, he seems tired of her’’ he adds. Ever since she came on the base as a Red Cross volunteer, Bucky was in awe of her. She was so beautiful, and she had this confident attitude that attracted the Major. Bucky kept looking at her from across the room as Crosby dragged her in front of the bar. ‘’You should convince her to, y’a know, leave him’’ Rosie Rosenthal said, taking a sip of his drinks as he joined the conversation. Egan’s head turned to look at Rosie, questioning his motive, but still, John agreed with him. Helen joined the men, with her drink in the hand, she came next to Rosie. ‘’I heard that he’s the missionary king. Kinda boring if you want my opinion’’ she took a sip, smirking. Gale Cleven scoffed before looking at Y/n, the woman looked desperate for someone to save her.

She adjusted her dress, the one she wore for him. It was bright red, the buttons stopped in the middle of her breast, exposing cleavage, the dress stopped mid thigh. It was beautiful, Y/n thought she looked amazing in it; but when Harry Crosby saw her, he just said that she looked nice. It pained her, she put a lot of effort in her look to just be told that she looked nice. ‘’I’ll have a whiskey, neat’’ Crosby ordered. Y/n stuttered a little bit, she didn’t know what to say. She looked at the menu, filled with colorful drinks before choosing one with grenadine and gin. Helen came to her rescue, pulling her away from Crosby as Y/n grabbed her drink. ‘’I’m borrowing her’’ Helen said to Harry. She almost spilled her drink, but when she sat on the table, Helen looked at her. ‘’Him? Y/n you deserve better’’ she stated. ‘’We’re not official, and he’s really tired, his job is hard.’’ she excused him, again. Helen rolled her eyes, before looking at John Egan. ‘’By the look of things, you’ll never be official with him. He looks bored’’ she tries to reason her friend. Y/n fidgeted with her fingers, taking a sip of her drink. It was really tasty! ‘’It’s complicated, he’s still with Jean’’ Y/n whispered. Helen choked on her drink, almost spitting it. ‘’WHAT?!’’ she exclaimed; Y/n looked at the ground.

John Egan was looking at Y/n, that red dress suited her perfectly. She was breathtaking. When they heard Helen exclaim loudly, Buck and Rosie looked at each other. ‘’Holy shit’’ Rosie chuckled as he read Helen’s lips. ‘’What?’’ Bucky asked, looking at Rosie. ‘’If I understand correctly, he’s still with his wife’’ Rosie whispered. Bucky started to laugh. ‘’Harry Crosby, you son of a bitch’’ he mumbled, chuckling. Harry Crosby made his way into the crowd, looking for Y/n, when he got to her, he practically pulled her away from her chair. Y/n walked past Bucky, smiling to him as she was being dragged in the room.

‘’Another whiskey, neat please’’ he ordered the same thing. Y/n tried a lot of things, it was all good, she tried to convince Harry to try other things, but he was sticking with his whiskey neat. ‘’Croz, the Cosmopolitan is really good, I’m sure you’ll like – ‘’ Harry Crosby slammed his hand on the table, not to strong, but loud enough to make the woman flinch. ‘’Goddamnit, Y/n, for the last time. I don’t want to try your fruity drinks! God, how many times do I have to tell you?!’’ he said, aggressively. ‘’I, uh, I’’ she stuttered, in shock of what just happened. ‘’You and your sweet stuff. *scoff*, pathetic. Why can’t you just be like Jean, obedient and silent. No, I have to deal with your sweet and ‘I always see things in a positive way’ bullshit. Your just too sweet for me!’’ he spat. The waiter put his whiskey on the table. Y/n had enough, she took his glass and got up her seat. ‘’You know what? I’d like to see things for your point of view, but I can’t get my head so far up my ass. Fuck you Harry Crosby, we’re done. Go back to your wife, you must miss her after all!’’ she said as she threw his whiskey on him.

That’s my girl! That’s what John Egan thought when he saw Y/n throw whiskey on Harry Crosby. He had it coming for a while now. He was so proud of her; he had a huge grin on his face. ‘’Go after her’’ Helen suggested, and that’s what he did. He saw her going outside, so that’s where he went. ‘’Y/n, wait!’’ he called her out. She had pure anger running through her veins. But she knew that it wasn’t Crosby going after her. She turned around and saw him. ‘’Bucky, hi’’ she cleared her throat. ‘’Are you okay? I, uh, saw the scene’’ he scratched the back of his head. She replaced her hair, looking at Bucky. ‘’Yeah, he's such an asshole’’ she scoffed. John walked closer to her, she wasn’t crying, but she was angry at Crosby. ‘’You want to get out of here?’’ he asked her, she tilted her head in confusion. ‘’Where would we go?’’ she asked. ‘’Not out of the base, but out of this aera, where he could come out’’ he clarified. She nodded as John led her gently to his Jeep.

They entered the woman’s quarters, but they were empty, since everyone was at the party. ‘’By the way, you look astonishing in that dress.’’ He complimented her. Her cheeks grew red as she bit her bottom lip. ‘’Thank you, Bucky, I, uh, you look handsome too’’ she stuttered. ‘’Those drinks looked really good; I wished I tasted one’’ he said. Y/n smiled, truly happy. That’s all he had to do, was it so hard Harry? ‘’Yeah, they were’’ she whispers as she awkwardly looks around the room. ‘’Can I ask you a question?’’ he asked her. She nodded as she sat on her bed. ‘’Why were you with him?’’ he asks. Y/n smiles as she thinks. ‘’Honestly, I thought he was going to be nice and caring. But he wasn’t, and the sex was bad’’ she blurted out the last part, putting her hand in front of her mouth in shock. ‘’God, I’m sorry, please forget I said that’’ she chuckles nervously. ‘’Don’t worry, I already knew that Helen told me’’ he confessed.

They’ve been talking for a while now; nurses were starting to come back. ‘’You have to go; you’re not supposed to be here’’ Y/n signs. John got up, so did Y/n. ‘’I’m not ready for this night to be over’’ he confesses. She blushes as she looks at him. ‘’Me neither’’ she whispers. Bucky smirks as she takes her hand, leading her outside. They got up in his Jeep as they went inside Bucky’s quarters, since he was important on the base, he had his own room. It was in the building where everyone lived, but still, it gave him a little bit of privacy. ‘’Don’t worry about them’’ he whispered as she saw men on their bed. Some men were already sleeping, others were reading and the ones that looked at her were smiling, because they saw what happened with Crosby.

When they entered his room, she felt a weird sense of déjà vu. She’d been here, in this building multiple times with Crosby, but now, she felt like she was important. When she was here, they would have fast and boring sex, usually in missionary. After sex, Harry would fall asleep, he fell asleep around 3pm, leaving Y/n alone, bored and unsatisfied. ‘’What’s going on in your pretty head?’’ Bucky asked as he closed the door. ‘’Nothing, I’m happy to be here’’ she said, not too loudly. Bucky smiled; she was so beautiful. She got comfortable, taking her shoes off and taking a seat on his bed, where he joined her after taking off his jacket. He was a little bit nervous, only because she was so beautiful. ‘’What did Helen told you, y’a know, about the sex?’’ she asked, smiling. Bucky chuckled and looked at her in the eyes. ‘’That he was the missionary king, and it was boring’’ he explains. ‘’Yeah, uh, she’s right.’’ She laughed nervously. ‘’He was that bad?’’ he asked. Y/n nodded as she blushes. ‘’He was’’ she whispers.

The air in the small room felt hot and thick. They’ve been talking about sex for a while and Y/n was hot, the small room was not helping. ‘’Tell me something true’’ Y/n said. He let out a breath before finding the courage to say what he was about to say. ‘’I really want to kiss you right now’’ he breathed out. Her breath caught in her throat as she blinked and looked at him. ‘’Tell me something true, Y/n.’’ he said seductively. She didn’t even have to think twice. ‘’I really want you to kiss me’’ she breathed out. She looked at his eyes, then his lips and his eyes again. Their face was so close, the air in the room was so heavy. Bucky put his hands on her cheek before pressing his lips on hers. The kiss felt like sunrise, it felt so good. Harry Crosby wasn’t a good kisser, but John Egan was a really good kisser. They pulled away to catch their breaths. ‘’Please… Don’t stop’’ she whispered. ‘’I wasn’t planning on it’’ he smirked. Their lips crashed against the other again, this time, it was more intense. Bucky hands trailed down her body, he laid down on the bed, making Y/n got on his lap.

His hands were getting under her skirt, trailing on her thighs, getting closer to her panties. ‘’That red dress is driving me crazy’’ he mumbled against her lips. Her hips grinned against his lap, she felt him growing hard under her. ‘’At least, someone found it hot’’ she chuckled. ‘’Yeah, more than hot – ‘’ his hips buckled, making her feel his boner. ‘’- Feel that? That’s what that dress does to me’’ he smirked. ‘’Just a dress? It doesn’t take you much’’ she giggles. He scoffed before kissing her neck. ‘’Yeah, just that. You looked like a goddess’’ he sucked the skin on her neck, making a mark. She was out of breath, she wasn’t used to this much foreplay, she felt a little dizzy, but it was in the best way possible. His hands were still on her thighs, playing with her panties, taunting her a little bit. But, even if she loved what was happening, she was frustrated, she needed Bucky right now. ‘’Major, I need you. I love the foreplay and stuff, but please; I need you’’ she breathed out. He smirked as he reached her panties. ‘’Whatever you want, darling’’ he said as he took her panties off. Her hands reached his belt, she unbuckled it as she eagerly watched him. ‘’As long as I love this dress, I want to see you’’ he said, unbuttoning her dress. ‘’Then, let me see you’’ she replied, looking at him.

They quickly undressed before going in the same position they were in before. She was naked, on top of him, Bucky was also naked. She was soaking wet, she wasn’t used to this much attention, so it turned her on a lot. ‘’Ride me, sweetheart, c’mon’’ he encouraged her. She sunk down on him, her breath caught in her throat because of the size of his length. ‘’Holy shit’’ she moaned. ‘’Breath, Y/n, take your, shit, take your time’’ he mumbled. His head was thrown back, she was really tight and felt heavenly. She began grinding on him, slowly, to make sure that it didn’t hurt. ‘’Atta girl’’ he breathed out. As she familiarized herself with his size, Y/n began to move a little faster. Bucky’s hand went on her hips, he wanted to guide her. But she was going to the pace that he was looking for. ‘’You’re so big…’’ she moaned as she leaned to kiss him. He chuckled before kissing her. When she felt one of his hands on her breast, she moaned inside his mouth. He played with her tit, teasing her nipple; he loved watching her body react to him, it felt good, seeing the effect he had on her.

The heavy breathing coming out of their mouth was erotic, the fact that they had to keep quiet was pure torture. As they came closer to their orgasm, it was more difficult to keep quiet. She felt a not in her stomach, her climax was close, but a small part of herself didn’t want it to be over, she was truly enjoying it. ‘’I’m close’’ she managed to whisper. ‘’Me too, cum with me’’ he pleaded. She tried to hold her orgasm, but it was hard. Her thighs were shaking. ‘’Bucky, I need too – ‘’ ‘’Cum, now’’ he ordered. They both reached their climax at the same time, they tried to keep quiet, but the pleasure was too much. Bucky sucked her neck again to keep quiet, marking her again.

Bucky and Y/n had to take a moment to recover from what just happened, it was truly amazing, they couldn’t believe it. ‘’Thank you for this amazing sex’’ she breathed out, smiling. ‘’You’re welcome, and I agree, it was amazing’’ he smiled. She decided to sleep here, postponing her walk of shame tomorrow. She put on one of his shirts as she laid beside him. She felt happy, her stomach had butterflies. When she fell asleep, she didn’t even think about Harry Crosby, she thought about John Egan.

A knock on the door woke them up, it was potentially someone telling Bucky that he was flying today, but when she opened the door, Y/n was surprised to see Harry Crosby. When he saw her, his mouth slightly opened. ‘’Y/n, what are you doing in Bucky’s room?’’ he asked. Bucky walked behind Y/n, she felt like she had a scary dog privilege. ‘’What do you want, Croz?’’ Bucky asked. ‘’You, uh, you’re needed, the, uh, Colonel wants to see you’’ he stuttered, seeing the marks in Y/n’s neck. She looked at her watch, it was almost time for her shift. ‘’Shoot I gotta go, see y’a’’ she kissed Bucky’s neck as she put her dress on, not bothering to button it since she was going to change. Crosby had his jaw on the floor, it wasn’t a walk of shame, it was a walk of power.

She was sitting on a table; it was her break. She’d been giving out coffee for hours, she didn’t want a boring black coffee, she wanted a good coffee, with milk and sugar, sadly milk and sugar was for Majors. ‘’Is there anyone sitting here?’’ Harry Crosby asked, with two cups of coffee in his hands. She didn’t want to talk to him, but he sat down on the table anyway. He pushed one cup in front of her: black coffee. Y/n looked at the cup, then slowly rose her head to look a Crosby. ‘’What do you want?’’ she asked. ‘’I’m so sorry for yesterday, I didn’t know – ‘’ she cut him off with her hand. ‘’Crosby, you came here to get me back?’’ she asked, with a hint of disgust. He nodded. ‘’I don’t want to hear it, you humiliated me, told me I was boring, and you’re married!’’ at the same time, Bucky came to sit next to her, handing her a cup of coffee with milk and sugar. ‘’Milk and sugar, just how you like it’’ he smiled as he sat down. Bucky kissed her cheek before looking at Crosby. ‘’You said it yourself, Harry, I’m too sweet for you’’

[kingkatsuki]

Only ever thinking about going to concerts and festivals with Bakugou. Sigh.

Bakugou is positioned like a guard dog while he stands near the ladies bathroom dutifully holding your drink in hand as he waits for you to emerge. Brows furrowed as he scans the crowd of any eyes that are directed towards you that shouldn’t be, practically daring any guy that sees you on your own for a few fleeting minutes to try something.

Even though he’s nursing his own beer, he takes a sip from your cup. The fruitier concoction hits his tongue as he deliberately places his lips over the lipstick mark you’ve left on the rim, tasting the faint hint of cherry on his lips as he waits for you to emerge.

And of course it happens— why wouldn’t it when you look so fucking pretty today. The sheen of sweat tacking your skin that you despise only serves to make you look more alluring, casting an ethereal glow on your body as though the sun beats down on the event arena only for you. And that’s why there’s a guy swiftly approaching you that thought he could try his luck. Bakugou is well prepared, booted feet thudding into action as he makes a beeline for you, ready to intercept the guy who’s already cast you a friendly smile. A look that’s gone completely unnoticed by you, Bakugou acknowledges with glee, as you make a beeline for him.

“Hey,” The guy calls out to you, but he may as well be talking to a wall as you look directly at Bakugou. Reaching out to grab your plastic cup back as he wraps a possessive arm around your waist, even this sweltering heat won’t stop him from protecting what is his, “Nice shirt.”

You look down at the shirt you’re wearing before looking back at the guy with a wide smile on your face and Bakugou is practically ready to fist pump the air in victory. That was this smarmy fuckers second mistake, the first was trying it on with you—

“Thanks!” You grin, your hand instinctively goes to the hem to try and pull it down your fishnet clad thighs, “I stole it off my boyfriend.”

Boyfriend— that’s fuckin’ right asshole, Bakugou smirks in victory as he squeezes your hip with glee. Taking a gulp from his beer as you turn to face him, “Are you ready to go? I think they’re on in a few minutes.”

“Yeah, baby. Let’s go.” Bakugou can’t help his lips curling into a smug grin as you turn your back on the guy, slowly making your way towards one of the main stages as he turns to give the poor soul one more fleeting look before moving his hand down to grab your ass for good measure.

[gatorlovebot]

nsfw. mdni. inspired by @iciclesses <3

cw: mommy kink

your resolve was diminishing the longer you stood in front of the mirror looking at yourself. you were wearing a spur of the moment purchase, something that caught your eye in an advertisement on instagram. as you put in your credit card information for the garments you thought it would be a fun little surprise for kate to come home to after a long day on base.

the matching set was white, a frilly little top made of white cotton that hugged your breasts, thin enough to see the hard peeks of your nipples. the neckline was low and lined with a little ruffle. it felt dainty and pretty. but the star of the set were the panties.

you didn't recall them being so. bare. a strip of white lace wraps around your hips, a patch of lace covering your mound. but what has you questioning the whole set is the two little stripes of satin that outline your puffy pussy lips. you thought it would make you feel sexy and daring. but instead you felt stupid the more you looked at yourself.

when you and kate have sex she's still usually in a sports bra and you're in a tee shirt. she's never cared for anything like this, so you've never tried. you want to scrap the whole plan of surprising kate entirely until you hear the front door opening and closing and the sounds of her kicking off her boots by the front door. she was home early.

you scramble, instead of ripping off the little pieces of fabric you grab the first articles of clothing you can find to instead put on top. you greeted kate in one of her old shirts and a pair of sweatpants you had left lying on the bedroom floor. when she greets you with a kiss to the cheeks and a gentle, "hi, honey," as she pulls you into an embrace you wait for her to notice what you're wearing underneath.

but she doesn't, she pulls away and goes back over to the entryway to hang her coat up. "i thought you were going to be home later," you commented in lieu of a greeting, "i already had dinner, but i can heat up the leftovers-"

"no need, honey, i picked up something on the way home." she interjected and you couldn't help but watch her arms as she raised them to undo her bun. "paperwork didn't take me as long as i was expecting, though." she offers up.

"oh, do you want to celebrate with a drink?" you quip. kate and you had fallen into this routine once she finally decided to quit smoking. (you use the term "quit" loosely, she just didn't smoke around you anymore. you knew she still smoked when she was gone on missions.) she would come home from a long day on base and you'd make her a cocktail.

with a hand at the small of your back she leads you to the kitchen, grabbing two glasses as you rummage around for the liquors and mixers for the both of you. you mix her a gin and tonic and something a little fruitier for yourself. she's leaned up against the kitchen across from you and when you make your way over to her she's takes the drink you offer to her in one and pulls you flush against her with a hand around your hip.

she mutters a quick thank you before taking a long sip from her drink. you giggle, "long day?"

she sighs, "you know everyday is a long one with that crew."

you giggled again, this wasn't the first time she had said something to the same effect about the guys she worked with. you hadn't met any of them, you probably never would, but kate filled you in on each one of them as much as she could. but even with her exasperated tone you knew that her words weren't unkind. she loved those men and entrusted them with her life and she with their's.

"you home tomorrow?" you inquired. you already knew the answer, of course she was home tomorrow. it was the main reason you decided to save the lingerie for tonight, a late night rendezvous. you try not to cringe at the thought of the lingerie you were still wearing.

"yeah," she takes another sip, "i was thinking maybe we could go out and look at paint samples for the bathroom."

you both were planning on taking time off soon to do some renovations to your flat. the conversation about paint colors and whether or not to rip up the tile in shower flowed easily and as you reach to grab her now empty glass for a refill kate stopped you. she reached her hand up to your shirt, finger ghosting along the ruffle of your bra that was pressed against the thin shirt you threw over it. "what's this?" she questions.

you try to think of a lie, but only for a moment. kate knows you too well at this point, can read you like a fucking book, and she knows it. her gaze is locked onto your's as she waits you out. "a bra."

"a bra?" her brow is quirked in curiosity, you won't be getting out of this one. "show me." she challenges.

you roll your eyes, trying to portray annoyance rather than insecurity while you hook your fingers under the hem of you shirt and pull it up. her lips quirk up in a barely there smirk as she runs her fingers over the smooth satin of one of the straps. "cute," she comments before taking one last sip of her gin and tonic, mostly water from the ice at this point.

you take a moment to wait for her to say something else. anything else. but as you lower your shirt all she does is press her glass into your empty hand.

cute. you knew she wasn't intending to be dismissive but as you filled up her glass for the second time you decided you were done for the night. one simple word knocking the wind out of your sails completely. you felt childish as you returned to her, she at some point had pulled out her phone and was scrolling mindlessly. you set the glass down next to her on the counter and you dodge her grasp as she tries to reach for you again. confusion tugs at her brows as you tell her you're gonna go to bed, "i've had a long day, kate."

she lets you go, easily. you don't know if it would have made you feel better or worse if she tried to stop you. or if she decided to come with you. but you find yourself in bed now, lying on top of the covers still in your clothes with the lights on, scrolling through your phone. you thought you could use this time to gather your thoughts, feel your feelings. maybe come up with something to say to her about this whole thing tomorrow. but scrolling through social media was easier.

it's not long before she joins you, though. standing in the doorway all she says is, "i thought you were going to bed."

"yeah, well," you shrug, not having any semblance of a response and not caring either. you're frustrated and your little sensitive feelings got hurt, so you try to just shut down and hope she either joins you in bed and you both go to sleep or she leaves you alone to go back to whatever she was doing.

she crosses the threshold and joins you on the bed. she lays on her side, head propped up by one her hands and just looks at you. you know she's waiting you out, again, but there's nothing for you to give to her so you continue to look at your phone.

she must realize you're icing her out because you can feel her eyes trail from your face down your body. in a moment you feel her hand reach down to your hip where your sweatpants have ridden down, exposing a hint of lace. her hand reaches for it, "hey, does this match the bra?"

you swat her hand away from you in a flash of anger, her fingers just barely brushing the lace. "it's not like you fucking care." you snipe back, sitting up on the mattress to wrap your arms around yourself.

"hey," she barks back, authority in her voice. "you've had an attitude since i walked through the door."

"no, i haven't," you retort, irritation heating up your skin. "we were having a perfectly fine night."

you know that neither of you are really in the right here. you could have said something about how her reaction upset you, but you didn't. but was she really that emotionally repressed to not see the correlation between her reaction and your feelings?

"you're right, the night was going fine until you showed me that bra and then what?" she probed and when you didn't give her an answer she kept going. "i don't even know what fucking happened with you after that."

"i tried to fucking do something nice for you, kate." you assert, feeling spurred on at the look of skepticism that crosses her face. "i tried to do something for you and you didn't fucking care enough to give me an actual response."

she gestures to your chest, "how was i supposed to know that was something for me?"

"would i wear something like for myself, kate?" you retort, incredulously. you should try to reign it in because you can see this conversation going nowhere, but your hurt pushes you forward. "i covered up when you got home because i knew you wouldn't even care."

she just sits back on her heels besides you on the mattress and looks at you for a long time. you watch her shoulders relax as she whispers, "i care."

watching the anger dissipate from her body helps you come down as well. but you still don't bother to give her a response, you just want to change out of this stupid lingerie and go to bed so you two can go look at paint in the morning.

her eyes linger back to your hip, the hint of lace that's still peeking out from your waistband. her fingers barely grazes the fabric, "can i see?" she prods.

you roll your eyes but still hear yourself say, "sure."

"sure isn't a real answer, ho-"

"yes," you all but shriek at her as she gets her nimble fingers under your waistband, exposing yourself and the lace to her. you decide to take off your shirt too, giving her a chance to look at the complete set before you throw it away.

"wow," she coos, voice gentle and soft compared to the harshness of it previously. her eyes roam your naked flesh, greedily taking you in. it's still just one word but it's in stark contrast to her almost sarcastic, cute. you try to stay mad just based on principle, but the adoration in her voice makes your insides melt.

you keep your pudgy thighs together so she can't yet see the satin adorning your cunt but she easily spreads them a part, placing her strong hands at the tops of your thighs, thumbs digging into your flesh. "oh, wow, this really was a surprise, honey." you feel utterly exposed and you, on instinct, try to clench your legs shut when you feel her press a kiss to the lace atop your mound.

"hey," she chides, crawling up your body, hooking her finger underneath the band of the bra, pulling you closer to her. your breasts spill out of the flimsy cotton as you gasp. "stop being a brat and let mommy apologize."

kate laswell doesn't fuck around. she knows what she wants and she knows how to get it. she's turned you into something so easy for her and you know it, which is why you sometimes try to put up a fight. "if you're apologizing at least say i'm sorry."

she reaches up to your tits, fingers grabbing at your nipples. "i'm," she pinches your left nipple, "sorry." she pinches your right swallowing your whine of pain with a kiss. "now will you be good for mommy and let her enjoy her surprise?"

all you can do is whimper out, "yes, mommy."

"good job, honey," there's a laugh in her voice that makes heat bloom in your stomach. she liked to tease, she liked to get mean. she lowers herself back down to face your cunt. it's already slick from the pain and her teasing, wetness darkening the white satin enveloping your weeping pussy. "easy access for mommy, huh?"

"yeah," you affirm, voice whiney and high pitched. it's something that you try not to think about outside the bedroom.

she drags a thumb against your swollen clit, reveling in the gasp you let out at the touch. "so wet for me already," she observes, dragging her thumb down through your folds, prodding at your tight hole. her touch leaves you for a second before her hands are reaching under each thigh. in a moment she has you rolled up onto your shoulders with her knees on the bed and face inches away from your twitching cunt.

"that's better," she remarks before pressing a kiss directly towards your sensitive clit. your body jerks in her hold but it doesn't stop her from licking a strip from your hole back up to your clit. on most nights she's efficient, getting her tongue on your clit just the way you like it, letting you grind against the flat of her tongue until you cum. but tonight she's sloppy, spitting on your puffy lips and using a finger to spread the wetness around, her gaze never leaving your cunt. she laps at your clit as her fingers spread through your folds, two finally pushing past the tightness of your hole.

you're a mess against the mattress, squirming and trying to buck your hips against her face. your legs jerk against her shoulders and your tits jiggle with every harsh breath you take and gasp you let out.

she may be sloppy, but she knows exactly what she's doing. the finger that she has in your clenching cunt, the knuckles rub firm and tight against that little spot inside of you that makes you cream around the digits. she gets her lips around your clit and sucks causing you to wail out. her fingers are relentless, grinding inside of you as she mercilessly stimulates your clit. with a broken sob you finally cum around her fingers, body jerking and twitching against her hold.

she releases your clit and pulls her fingers from your fluttering pussy, giving your used hole a sloppy kiss. she chuckles at your whine before she grabs the backs of your calves from her shoulders, lowering your bottom half back to the mattress. you two aren't really that adventurous with your positions in bed so your hips and back ache as you melt into the mattress.

"just give me a minute," you babble, mouth dry and body still pulsing with aftershocks. "you can do whatever you want with me."

"don't worry, honey," she coos against your ear, body lying down bedsides yours. she pulls your bra back up and over your tits. the fabric presses against your sensitive nipples. "i'm taken care of."

you open your eyes and look to her face, but the soft smirk doesn't really explain much. it's then when you notice her cargo pants are unbuttoned. fuck. she leans in close, pressing a kiss against your cheek, "gotta surprise me more often."

[honeysuckleharringtons]

Part Five: "Seasonal Specials" ~ S. Harrington

Summary: (Then) Christmas Eve has rolled around, and unfortunately for a very pregnant Reader, she is stuck at home with a migraine. Luckily for her, her younger brother doesn't make for too bad of company. — (Now) A slow shift at Brew and Me turns out to be a good night for advice and a call from everyone's favorite nursing student.

Pairing: Nurse!Steve Harrington x Fem!Byers!Reader

Word Count: 1,900

Content Warning: teen pregnancy, discussions of homophobia, discussions of abuse and allusions to physical abuse, discussions of slut-shaming, Reader is lowkey bad at advice when it comes to these topics LMAO, explicit language, food consumption (Reader drinks hot chocolate), not really a warning but Will is gay and autistic in this series, as always lmk if i missed anything!

Extra Notes: this should've been posted way earlier, i am so sorry it wasn't. hope you guys enjoy though!

Originally Written: 12/21/2023 through 12/25/2023

honeysuckleharringtons' main masterlist can be found here!

'brew and me' series masterlist can be found here!

[ Then, December of 1987 ]

Christmas Eve. It was Christmas Eve and you were stuck at home with an excruciating headache.

You supposed it wasn't all bad. After all, staying at home was preferable over the rare occasion that you did leave the house, when everyone would stare you down like some caged animal at the zoo. Unfortunately, the same could be said for your family—no, not your immediate family, who'd helped you more than ever since you'd entered your third and final trimester—whose reactions had ranged from disgusted to sympathetic.

When you'd gone to the family's end-of-summer family reunion, you'd tried your best to hide the tiny bump you were sporting at the time. However, your aunt Judy had taken notice of your particularly round belly, and immediately figured out that it wasn't from one too many hot dogs at the cookout. Ever since then, you'd heard every comment in the book, everything from "whore throwing her life away" to "so sad she thought that was her only option."

So, instead of listening to the endless insults from your distant relatives, you'd prayed for some way out of the gathering. Unfortunately for you, God had a sense of humor, hence the excruciating headache.

The sound of the microwave beeping in the next room over set you off all over again, the noise like a hammer to the head. "Will, can't you tell that thing to shut up?" you groaned, covering your face with the compress he'd made you.

"Unfortunately, I don't think that's going to help," he joked. You couldn't tell if you wanted to laugh or kill him for his sense of humor. "Here's your hot chocolate."

You sat up ever-so-slightly, taking a small drink of the deep brown liquid. Almost instantly, the warmth of it made you feel a little better. "Thank you." You reached a hand over, ruffling his already messy hair. "By the way, you didn't have to stay home with me."

"And listen to Uncle Howie tell me how we're both going to hell? I'd rather have that headache of yours."

A snicker escaped your lips, knowing exactly what he meant. "Okay, maybe Uncle Howie is a bit too opinionated on the sex lives of sixteen and eighteen year olds, but you don't have to listen to him. I mean, you're missing out on Grandma's fruitcake, which is your favorite part of the holidays."

"After last year, listening to half our cousins tell me I'm fruitier than the cake, I don't think I'll ever eat it again." Will pulled his knees up to his chest, his face overtaken by an expression that looked a lot like longing. "Besides, it's not really worth it to me."

You set your mug aside before placing a hand on his knee. "What do you mean?"

"The way the family talks about you… I thought I was the black sheep of the family. You might as well be a purple sheep."

Your pregnancy hormones must've taken over, because instead of a normal reaction, you found yourself beginning to cry from his words. No, not because of pain from his statement, but rather comfort in knowing that he'd rather miss out on the finer things of life if it meant sticking up for you.

Will, and his lack of social cue skills, stared at you for a moment, unsure what to say. Eventually, he landed on, "Sorry if I made you more upset. I didn't-"

A small huff of amusement left your mouth as you shook your head. "No, Will," you smiled, reaching up to wipe away your excess tears, "I'm just… I'm really happy to have you."

He flashed you a closed-lip smile, one that felt so genuine and unapologetically Will. "I know you'd do the same for me."

[ Now, December of 1991 ]

"I would, kiddo. I really would."

Aster Bay was a different kind of beautiful at the holidays. Sure, the small college town was normally beautiful, but upon seeing the small-town glow overtake the place, you were sure you hadn't seen anything like it.

Apartments and beach-side condos decked out in Christmas lights, a tree as high as the clouds in the town square, students dressed in Christmas and Hanukkah sweaters, their dogs in matching attire. The town felt like your own personal snow globe, tiny flakes flooding the ground beneath your feet with every step.

The magic of the holidays of course carried over into your favorite little coffee shop, decorations of red and green covering the walls and counters while the smell of peppermint wafted through the air. Unfortunately for you and Max, the one thing your little coffee shop was lacking this Christmas Eve was customers.

Neither of you were really sure why the store was open. Nearly everyone had gone home for the holidays—students, patrons, and other baristas alike—and the store was dead quiet, aside from the soft sound of Sinead O'Conner playing on the overhead speaker. Silent Night is accurate, you thought to yourself.

"So, where's your lover boy at this Christmas Eve?" Max joked, breaking the long-winded silence.

You sighed, secretly longing for the nurse she spoke of. "Apparently they gave him a week off from the hospital so he went home to see his folks." A small wave of loneliness had come over you when Steve had told you about his departure a few days prior, when he stopped by to grab a latte for the road.

"That's nice. At least he's hopefully having a good time, not working on the holidays like some of us," she said lightheartedly. Though, you could've sworn you heard a hint of sadness in her tone.

"Hey, how come you aren't at home with your folks?" The question had been a simple one, but when Max looked up at you, you could tell her answer was about to be anything but simple.

Her arms folded tightly in front of her chest as she looked at you, a sigh falling between her plump lips. "It's… complicated."

You placed a loving hand on her shoulder. "I know we're only coworkers and we aren't really supposed to bring our personal lives to work with us, but you know you can talk to me, right? I'm your friend, plus I'm a mother so I have problem solving skills now."

She huffed in amusement at your last remark. "It's just… I can't really say a lot but my life in California, it's not as good as my life here. And as much as I love my mom, there's just… well, it's just better for me to stay here even as much as I miss her. Besides, it's not like I make enough to fly home and Neil certainly isn't going to pay for my flight."

You could tell from the clear distaste in the way she said Neil that she didn't like to say his name anymore than she had to. Unfortunately, you knew all too well what that was like, and there was a certain name that left a bad taste in your own mouth the same way Neil did for Max.

"I can't give you much advice because my dad was the one that left, but I promise, it does get better," you empathized. "You made the right decision by staying here. I'm proud of you, Max."

She began to fiddle with the sleeve of her flannel, her eyes darting away. "I hate being here though. I can't help my mom from here. There's no telling what he does to her when me and Billy are away."

You knew exactly what she meant by that too. "I know it doesn't seem like it, but that'll change too. Eventually he'll get tired of you and your mom fighting back and he'll leave. That's what my dad did anyway."

"The thing is," she paused, licking her lips, "I'm not sure my mom wants to fight back. It's like she wants to deal with Neil's bullshit. I mean, she divorced my dad over not making enough money and then she married Neil, who is still scraping at the bottom of the barrel to keep the lights on every month. Not to mention, she dated like ten guys in between and broke up with them for way less, but she'll always find a way to justify his actions."

You shrugged your shoulders. "My mom put up with it for seventeen years before she started to truly fight back." A small wave of silence came over the room before you continued, "I'm sorry I don't have much advice. I guess my situation was just a little different than most survivors'. One thing I can tell you though is that I'm proud of you for making the best decision for yourself. I know it's hard to put yourself first sometimes."

Max gave you a crooked smile, finally looking up at you again. "As much as it sucks that we've both been through a bad thing, I'm glad I have you to talk to about it."

"Of course, love. You're like a little sister to me."

Cutting your conversation short, the phone began to ring, the sound grating on your nerves. You loved your job, but it was Christmas Eve, damn it. In all honesty, you really just wanted to be at home, drinking hot chocolate with your girl in your lap and a movie playing on television.

Still, you picked up the phone, answering with the signature, "Happy holidays from Brew and Me. What can we do for you?"

"Can you tell me your seasonal specials?" said a familiar voice, his smirk audible in his tone.

"Steve! You're supposed to be on vacation," you scolded, though internally you were extremely happy to hear his voice. What is wrong with me? you pondered silently.

"I am, but I couldn't resist calling and ordering something."

Your brows furrowed at his statement. "How does that work?"

"Order anything you'd like and I'll pay you back when I get back to town. Think of it as a Christmas present, or whatever you celebrate."

"That feels like cheating, Harrington." Your eyes narrowed, despite his inability to see it.

"You don't have to tell me what it is, just how much I'll owe you," he replied. You could hear a fireplace crackling quietly in the background, and you could easily imagine him curled up in front of it, his skin covered with a thick Christmas sweater, glasses perched on his nose as he read a novel. "Same for Max or whoever else is working. Treat yourselves, courtesy of me."

"Well, thank you, Steve. We appreciate it," your lips curved upward into a smile as you spoke. "I hope you're enjoying your time off."

"I am. I'm sorry you have to work on Christmas Eve." You could almost hear the frown on his lips as he sympathized with you.

"It's not all bad. After all, I'm getting to hear from you."

"Careful, Byers, or I'll start to think you like me back," he smirked. Butterflies went off in your belly, your cheeks warm and surely rosy.

You were sure full sentences had escaped you, considering Steve had the ability to take your breath away and make you blush like no one else could. So, you stuck with what you knew you could say without stumbling over your words. "Happy holidays, Doc."

"It's a very happy holiday when I get to talk to you, Y/N."

So tumblr hates me...

I went over 24 hours thinking this chapter posted, only to find out tumblr ate it somewhere between my drafts, my queue, and my posts 🤦🏻‍♀️ this app loves to embarrass me

Anyway, I hope this was worth the extra long wait. It sucks that I'm posting it after the initial Christmas magic is over but I hope you guys liked it regardless! I will see you back here on Sunday for chapter six, which will be posted on time, fingers crossed!

-> taglist: @dungeons-are-too-cold @ducky-died-inside @awkotaco24 @liberhoe @princesseddie @corrodedseraphine @manuosorioh @esoltis280 @hazydespair @frostandflamesfanfic

[drops-of-moonlights]

Do y'all remember Aromatix? I didn't until someone favorited the og piece from 2019 on dA! and that was enough for me to want to revisit it but on the AU bases this time - and also add Roxy, Dia and Daphne to the mix! There's not much to this form - I structured it to be like the comic forms, so it's more gimmicky than anything else, see also: the same wings for everyone. Aromatix is the form of scents, and so they're all based after that! more below: (big thanks to both @emsartwork and @lunar-draws, which helped me brainstorm the three newcomers to this form!)

Bloom keeps her og scent of dragon's blood, the sap from the dragon tree that looks like blood when cut. It gives off a sweet but strong smell, and I felt that fit Bloom pretty well beyond the dragon associations.

Originally just generic spring, Flora has now the more specific cherry blossom scent, mainly because I wanted to work with pastels and plus they do fit Flora's vibe.

Tecna keeps coffee as her scent, because look at me in the eyes and tell me she does not run exclusively on the substance.

Stella also kept her citrus scent, because citrus, much like her, can go wildly between charming and pleasant to downright annoying lol.

Musa also keeps her berries, still mainly focused on blue and black berries, if only because fruitier scents just seem to fit her!

Originally mint, Aisha now has sea salt as her smell! It carries the same feeling of refreshing and invigorating, plus she's water, so it seemed fitting.

Diaspro comes in with the scent of honey rock candy! discussing it with Ems and Lunar helped narrow this down since both sugar and honey tend to crystallize, fitting her powers, plus I can see Dia going for sweet and strong smells on the regular to assert her dominance lol.

Fellow newcomer Daphne takes Aisha's original mint, for similar reasons as her but also because mint is also associated with nymphs and I felt it fitting lol.

Lastly, Roxy comes in with a pistachio scent! because nuts in general seemed fitting for her and because it adds a different tone compared to the rest.

[shares-a-vest]

@steddie-week Day Seven: Free Space

One final post for the week (a bit late, oops). Thank you to @pizzaqueen for creating the week and everyone else who worked on it. I've had so much fun writing all week and i still have so much to read and look at 💖💖💖

This one is technically a sequel to Day Six's prompt 'True'. One of those cases where i thought of more as soon as i posted it 😅

Eddie helps Steve out of the tub, stretching himself to the limit so he can hang onto his arm as well as grab a towel. Steve snatches it from him and immediately sets about towelling off his hair with a little too much shaking about for someone who has a headache.

And people would be shocked to know that when he is in a hurry or, like now, can't really be bothered - Steve simply towel-dries his famous locks.

The shock! The horror! The scandal!

Eddie chuckles at the thought as he stays close. Steve is much more relaxed now, he'd even said the bath helped with his headache. But he is still blinking slowly and moving at a snail's pace.

"Still want your tea?" he asks.

He can't help his teasing tone at the discovery sweet Steve Harrington enjoys a cup of tea from Wayne's collection.

"Nah," he hums as he towels off his bottom half.

He's supposed to be looking after him, but Eddie can't help a quick peak at his boyfriend's lack of modesty. And sure enough, Steve soon throws his wet towel at him, huffing a laugh as he splutters. He balls it up, opens the door and ignores Steve's yelp at the sudden cold air as he tosses the towel across the cramped hall to the laundry basket.

"Can you maybe read to me?" Steve asks, sounding sheepish as he steps into fresh underwear haphazardly while also holding onto the towel rack.

He grumbles away as he goes. Maybe that headache isn't entirely gone.

Steve turns around, brows pinched together in pain as he begins shuffling out and down the hall to the bedroom.

Eddie makes quick work of cleaning up in the bathroom, unplugging the tub and gathering up Steve's abandoned jeans, socks and underwear. He darts to the coffee table for his book, heart swelling at the sappy and silly thought of reading his Prince Charming a fairytale to lull him into a restful sleep.

He can't help it, he goes to the kitchen in search of Wayne's stupid tea box - the one Robin and Dustin had gifted him for Christmas. He spends far too long trying to determine what Steve's preference would be and eventually settles on the fruitier, sweeter options. Steve has a bit of a sweet tooth when he isn't feeling too well, even though a sugar rush might be counter-productive.

By the time he heads to his bedroom, Steve is already under the covers, curled up tight and facing the wall with only his fluffed hair visible.

"Hey, Steve?" he whispers, flapping his book by the spine as he prepares for the disappointment of him already sleeping.

The fabric mass moves a little as Steve reaches his hand out from under the covers and twists it behind him.

He wiggles his fingers, "I had to lay down."

Eddie slips in behind him, curling up against him. He props his book in front of them with one hand as Steve quickly takes the other and holds it close to his chest, right over his beating heart.

[stanleyvampire14]

Hi! To clear up some confusion because multiple people keep asking me this; “Who is the Emerson family?” Or at least a member of them TW FOR MENTIONS OF DEATH AND SEMI-VIOLENT SCENES

Let’s start with Mr. Emerson himself! John Emerson!

John is a policeman that usually either gets stationed in the neighborhood he lives in, or he goes around patrolling other neighborhoods in the town. He’s been in the police business for a while (years) and he likes doing it! He loves helping people! However he does have a side to him that can and will kill you (or at least seriously injure you) if you hurt the people he cares about, mainly his family. His immune system isn’t very great and he gets sick a lot around the flu season, which kinda sucks, but he refuses to not go to work, which kind of worries Mary (and Ryder as well). It’ll get to the point where Mary forces him to stay in bed, she will literally wrap him in a blanket to make him stay. He is very loyal (COUGH COUGH. @lord-of-the-bundle-of-sticks @todds-diary @that-fruitier-emo) and we love him for that. He taught Ryder basic manners and to actually respect women, despite most fathers at the time not caring about the latter, which is why Ryder is so insistent on teaching that to the other kids (island kids and daycare kids). Ryder really looks up to him, even after the island, although he’s more subtle about it after the island because he’s more reserved in general. Overall a great guy, I’d talk to him about my problems and he’d hug me as I rambled.

Next is Mrs. Emerson, Mary Emerson!

She is a saint I swear…and pretty…Beautiful even…Anyways! She’s a daycare worker, she made her own daycare because the others in the area kinda sucked in her opinion (discrimination issues among various types of people + “what about the poor people with children :( we have to help them somehow”) she will literally give discounts near the holidays please go to her daycare. Literally the most comforting person aside from Ryder himself. She doesn’t care who you are (and she might know who you ARE before you realize, in Ryder’s case…🏳️‍🌈) she will be there for you, it doesn’t matter how hard you breakdown, she will find a way to comfort you. She says that she doesn’t have a favorite child in the daycare, but she definitely does (it’s technically Ryder but he works with her so he doesn’t count) nobody knows who it is and the kids try to play guessing games, and everytime she leaves the room to do something, the children repeatedly ask Ryder who’s the favorite and he doesn’t know either, but he says that he likes Klaus a lot (@lord-of-the-bundle-of-sticks oc) and Ira (will reveal all of the daycare children soon enough, also Ira is they/them). She taught Ryder how to cook and somehow Ryder surpassed her skills in cooking, but Ryder always says she’s better, because he IS a mama’s boy and he can’t bring himself to make his mum sad ever. I just wanna hug her and melt hhgfssmhgh….Oh I love her so…💚💚💚 She’s my wife but also not- is there a way someone can be aroace and want to kiss a woman at the same time (I’m aroace and I really like physical affection it’s my favorite)

Lastly, my favorite little guy (he is 16, he is not little) Ryder Emerson!

Despite what all the kids think, he’s not actually an angel, he does typical teenager stuff (sneaking out at night, occasionally drinking because of Lust, and rotting in his room for months after the island! Y’know, totally usual behavior for teens please don’t rot in your rooms that’s bad for your mental health) and he might’ve indirectly caused a few deaths on the island, but we aren’t talking about that- He scarred Gluttony because he killed Sloth and Ryder obviously didn’t like that he bit Jack and Maurice out of self defense, and he might’ve smacked Roger on the head on the island at least twice…He got tired of them eventually. I swear he’s overall a good person, that island just really messed him up mentally and physically. In the fight between Jack and Ralph at the end, Ryder ended up getting scars from Maurice because Maurice slashed him with his spear, meaning to stab him (it was Jack’s command and Maurice was kind of a little gone). Speaking of the Merridew kid, he and Ryder are therapy partners/friends together due to their therapist thinking that exposed therapy would be a good thing for them, which it kind of was. Ryder got so much better after talking to everyone that survived on the island, even though he still feels iffy with some of them (Ralph, Roger, Maurice, Samneric all technically betrayed him in some way). His relationships with the sins (also @lord-of-the-bundle-of-sticks ocs) got so much better, although Gluttony’s was…Not good for a while, they eventually forgave each other in their own way, I’d like to say it started here, which I believe would take place a couple months after they got off the island: https://archiveofourown.org/works/52156768/chapters/131921551

Thank you for listening to my rambling, if you did.

Have a gallery of them, I really do love them…💙💚🩷 (I accidentally made it a timeline of events, oops)

This post was mostly for @cve-th3mvsic , but I hope this clears some questions up! ^_^

I will be linking this on my pinned post, just in case it gets lost in the massive amounts of posts I reblog and such.



[squigglywindy]

Squiggles' Cousin Plays The LU Name Game

So, my cousin. Y'all may know her as the person I referenced in an ask game once as the only person who knows I'm on Tumblr. I am exactly 31 days older than her and we have been inseparable for life, but she knows nothing about LU. She knows that I like "that one comic called something about Zelda" (rip she was not paying attention) but that is it. She hasn't played any games or seen anything about LU. Just know she can be a lil inappropriate and I edited her a little but, y'know. It was funny.

I will call her Gertrude because it's...well, it's what I call her. But it is very much not her name, it's a dumb joke I like to tease her about that no one else uses so I think it's a safe pseudonym to use.

So I messaged her today and was like "hey you're playing the name game I'm sending the pics tell me what you think" and like the good cousin that she is, she played along. I screenshotted some of what I thought were absolute quality frames from the last few updates and ran with it.

It went something like this...

Gertrude: ✨Alligator Warrior✨

Gertrude: Frog

Me: You have got to be more creative

Gertrude: Okay. Sir Henry Hop if you're gonna be picky

Gertrude: Sir Edgar Fair Legs. He looks like a fairy, but it's not fairy legs. It's Fair Legs

Gertrude: Sir Edgar Fairy Legs Jr. This one is actually a fairy

Me: You can't do two Edgars

Gertrude: I CAN IF THAT'S HIS SON AND YOU CANNOT TELL ME THAT IS NOT EDGAR'S CHILD

Gertrude: Big eyed fairy boy that has attachment to blanket. His name is um...Sir Lucy. But he is known as The Boy With An Emotional Attachment To A Blue Blanket

Gertrude: You if you were a cartoon. Idk Edgar I guess

Me: THEY CANNOT ALL BE EDGAR

Gertrude: OH! OH I'VE GOT IT! SAD SAM!

Gertrude: Oh. Oh so they're fruity fruity.

Me: Gertrude please

Gertrude: Squiggs look at them. That's a whole fruit basket I have never seen a fruitier human and I love them

Me: What is his name

Gertrude: Idk he thinks he's all that and a bag of chips though. Um. OH I KNOW! FRUITY FRED!

(And then she sent me a video of her demonstrating what she thinks he walks like and it was hilarious and unfortunately includes her face so y'all just know it was quality and involved a lot of hair flipping)

Gertrude: Oh that's Mark

Me: That's it?

Gertrude: Yeah he's just Mark

Gertrude: OH. OUGH. OFNDJKFDSHJKFDS. UHHHH. SEXY EDGAR

Me: NOT ANOTHER EDGAR

Gertrude: HE IS SIR EDGAR FAIR LEGS' YOUNGER LESS SUCCESSFUL BUT SEXIER BROTHER HIS NAME IS CAMERON BUT EVERYONE CALLS HIM SEXY EDGAR

Gertrude: Wowza. You know what Doja cat said about big noses

Me: Gertrude focus

Gertrude: His name is definitely Samuel. Samuel Elk Boy. He can turn into an elk

Gertrude: OH GOSH. SO MANY THOUGHTS AT ONCE WHAT THE HELL IS WRONG WITH THIS KID

Me: THIS IS MY ABSOLUTE BELOVED TREAD CAREFULLY

Gertrude: Bowling ball looking eyeballs. He's adorable but my gosh he can see noises. He can see the sound waves. He can find my potential in life. Damn 👁👄👁

Me: GERTRUDE

Gertrude: OKAY I'M SORRY. IT'S BILLY. BILLY WITH THE BIG ASS EYES

Gertrude: Oooh a girl. I know she could kick anybody's ass. AND cook up a storm. MRS. EDGAR

Me: WHY

Gertrude: If she's not married to Sexy Edgar she should be. She deserves it

Me: Let her be her own person. Give her a name

Gertrude: HE TOOK HER NAME, FOOL. IT'S HIM THAT DOESN'T HAVE ONE

Gertrude: Sexy Wolf. Mrs. Edgar turns into this wolf

Me: She does not

Gertrude: She should

Me: Thank you for participating you did terrible

Gertrude: Yeah whatever I'm still thinking about those big ass eyes they saw things I didn't know existed

[fishymom-art]

TELL US EVERYTHING ABOUT UR OCS!! id love to hear!!

OKAY OKAY SO I ALSO DID SOME SKETCHES EHEHHEHE

Rose Seed (aka my beloved Dark Fae) is one of the first OCs I created (circa 2011/12/13, something like that). He was my pony oc, of course, because this is where I started hahahah. He was always the gayest looking out of all of my characters, despite being straight. I changed that of course, now he's fruitier than a garden full of apples. He's a poor unfortunate soul who has to entertain the rich folk from different realms when they visit The End Realm for some political shit to do with Raff. He's a boy toy and a twink, but he's also very very talented, especially in singing. It was always his passion. Dark Faes are the outcasts of the Fae race, so he pretends to be a Love Fae, the most respectable kind who usually hang around rich people.

I must admit, I created Tim (the butler) just so that Rose can have a Husk to his Angel Dust hahaha. He's from the Human Realm, but it is not to be compared with our world. Magic and stuff still exists there but it's prohibited and anyone who's spotted using magic of any sort is exiles. Which leads us to Tim, who was extremely rich and famous and owned a casino. Money wasn't enough, so he gambled souls. He cheated all the time, of course, never lost, and if he was close to losing, he would trick his opponents to give up. An egotistical asshole is what he is, but he can also be a sweetheart.

I care a lot about Eru because they used to be a parent. They only became a parent when they got to the End Realm. They were violent, which is why they were exiled from their church. But they changed for their son. They lost him to Raff's servants - Shadows - and made it their mission to avenge. When they meet Milo, Raff's son who's the same age as Eru's son was, when he died, they soften up. Which was the first mistake they've made. Milo isn't a normal child. He's kept isolated from the world, no one knows he exists, no one knows what he is and what he's capable of. (also i forgot to draw Eru's wings here, apologies ahhahaha)

The best arc is probably Amelie and Raff. Amelie was exiled from the Occult Realm for being weak, but she can be fucking feral if she wants to and it gained her power and respect in the End Realm. But when Raff arrived, he beat her and took her down, taking her place as the highest overlord and she becomes a mere maid, who hides her immense powers. Rose and Tim, who also work alongside her, really REALLY want her to use her powers but she refuses. She'll snap at some point, of course. Everyone does.

YEAH ANYWAY I DIDN'T DRAW ANYTHING FOR POLEN BUT

She's amazing. I promise. She's THE woman ever, caring about everyone. Strong, yet selfless, which is her biggest weakness that makes her lose one very important battle... But for now she wants to avenge Rose, who was her best friend despite being an outcast of the Fae society. Of course, they fell apart when Rose joined Raff, but she still cares for him and wants him to be free again. She also wishes that the old overlord - a powerful yet caring succubus - took his place again, but oohhhh she disappeared and no one knows where she iiiisssss [pointing at Amelie]. Yeah, Polen is clueless that it's her.

YEAH ANYWAY WHAT DO YOU THINK ALIGEUHLAIUEHGLA I HAVE MORE

YOU CAN ALSO ASK THE CHARACTERS SOMETHING, I'D LOVE TO DRAW SOME ANSWERS!!!!

[eirinstiva]

Compadre Moncho Bingo

Halloa!~ My old chap Bertie Wooster sent the first part of "The metropolitan Touch". Brace yourselves because Bingo is in love again!

“What beats me,” I said, following up a train of thought, “is what principle you pick them on. The girls you fall in love with, I mean. I mean to say, what’s your system? As far as I can see, no two of them are alike. First it was Mabel the waitress, then Honoria Glossop, then that fearful blister Charlotte Corday Rowbotham⁠—

IIRC: The waitress, Honoria, Honoria's friend, the communist girl, Bertie's friend… Mary Burgess is the sixth one, I guess, but this is the first one that has Jeeves' seal of approval.

“You don’t seriously mean, Bertie, that you are intending to compare the feeling I have for Mary Burgess, the holy devotion, the spiritual⁠—” “Oh, all right, let it go,” I said

Bingo being Bingo.

Finally, like a star whose entrance has been worked up by the personnel of the ensemble, a girl appeared, and his emotion was painful to witness. His face got so red that, what with his white collar and the fact that the wind had turned his nose blue, he looked more like a French flag than anything else. He sagged from the waist upwards, as if he had been filleted.

Poor Bingo! He has a good adversary for this love, but Bingo has the power of Jeeves and Wooster!

“In my opinion, sir, the most judicious course for Mr. Little to pursue would be to concentrate on the young gentleman.” “The small brother? How do you mean?” “Make a friend of him, sir⁠—take him for walks and so forth.” “It doesn’t sound one of your red-hottest ideas. I must say I expected something fruitier than that.”

Maybe this plan seems a bit boring, but if something I've learnt from all the previous letters is that one must trust Jeeves' plans. If Bingo follows Jeeves' idea there shouldn't be any problem, but if Steggles is there, evrything will turn darker.

There’s no getting away from the fact that, if ever a man required watching, it’s Steggles. Machiavelli could have taken his correspondence course.

Steggles, we need to talk... Come 'ere u lil'...!

How dare you to make a bet on a romance!!! And trying to break Bingo's heart!!! The only one who can do that the girl rejecting him!!!

“Betting!” he gargled. “Betting! You don’t mean that they’re betting on this holy, sacred⁠—Oh, I say, dash it all! Haven’t people any sense of decency and reverence? Is nothing safe from their beastly, sordid graspingness? I wonder,” said young Bingo thoughtfully, (...)

I agree with you, dear [*sips tea*].

Bingo Little is that friend that goes straight to your fridge asking "What's for dinner?", drink your beer and smokes your cigarettes, but Bertie likes to keep him in his life because he makes everything funnier. That type of friend in my country is called Compadre Moncho for a TV character, and just like Bingo, he spends his time at his friends' house and his money on horse races.

It's late! Pip-pip and Buena suerte, compadre Bingo!

[yesitsmewhataboutit]

Can You Say Triplets?

Tom Holland x Reader

Anyone who says Tom and the twins don’t look alike are liars… sometimes even you can’t tell them apart if you’re not looking directly at their face

»»——⍟——««A/n: STAWP IM SCREAMING AND CRYING I finished this a few days ago but didn’t outline it and I just came to and was about to copy and paste to proofread and I look and the ending didn’t save for some reason😃😃and I do t remember exactly how I did it so now this ending is garbage and I’m sad cuz this whole fic is ruined and not at all how I wanted it. Idk why I’m even posting it

Masterlist

̶̶̶̶ ̶«̶ ̶̶̶ ̶ ̶ ̶̶̶ ̶«̶ ̶̶̶ ̶ Requests open　 ̶»̶ ̶̶̶ ̶ ̶ ̶̶̶ ̶»̶ ̶̶̶ ̶ ̶

Going golfing with his brothers is something Tom loves. He does it for fun, plus when he needs to relax and de-stress a bit. You know the usual routine. They go out around 1 o’clock, golf for a while and horse around, then go get food and drinks on the way home. Tom always picked you up food too which you loved.

Today is no different. You wake up to light kisses on your shoulder from Tom, his arms around you, and when you turn around, his sweet tired face as he looks at you through tired eyes. You have your time in bed, and he heads out with Harrison and Harry. So it’s just you for the day, everyone else was also doing their own stuff.

It’s a normal day, you make some food, lounge around a bit, and watch some tv. Inevitably, you end up where you always do; in your bed watching a show. It’s only around 8 o’clock, but you can feel your eyes getting heavier. You know it’s too early to fall asleep, but that doesn’t stop your body from still pulling, and as always, you lose the fight.

The boys get in around 11 o’clock, you wake up around 1 am. The tv is still on, and the bed is cold, but you can tell the boys are home. Tired and delirious, you push yourself from bed to try to go find your London boy. The house is quiet and dark, aside from the little light coming from Harrison’s room, if you listen you could hear quiet sounds, but what catches your eye when you exit your room is the lump on the couch. It wouldn’t be the first time Tom sat down to take his shoes off but ended up collapsing from a mixture of drowsy and drinks.

You shuffle over to the couch, not having the energy it’d take to get him to wake up and move, instead deciding to join him. A soft smile spreads your lips as you get closer and you can make out the messy curls that lay all over his head.

You rub your eyes and melt onto the couch, laying practically on top of him cause of its size. “Welcome back, Tommy,” you say in a quiet slur of your words, reaching up and giving him a quick peck on his lips before snuggling in, feeling his arms curl around you. You drift to sleep almost immediately, but not before you hear a grunt of response come from him, and soon after, you fall asleep.

It’s not the best sleep you’ve ever gotten, you’ve slept on the couch before, but you chalk the low-quality sleep up to the weird position you were laid. “Y/n.” The warm body you’re next to helps, making you stay in a state between conscious and unconscious. “Y/n.”

“Hm?” You shuffle around, hearing a voice calling you but not really caring, wanting to go back to sleep, already feeling it too early to be awake.

“Y/n.” The voice says again, trying its best to nag you awake.

“What,” you drag and whine, trying to adjust into and more comfortable position.

“What are you doing?”

You sigh, giving up hope of going to sleep at the moment. “What do you mean?”

You adjust again, moving your hand around, it being rested on his stomach under his shirt, where you can usually feel his abs, but you can’t at the moment, you don’t think much of it. What makes your mind skip and backtrack, is the smell.

You smell alcohol on him, which isn’t unusual since of course he just went drinking, but the specific smell doesn’t add up. You smell a strong bitter alcohol, which is something Harry would drink, not Tom, he likes fruitier drinks usually, unless something is wrong, which you would’ve known. So why would he be drinking like Harry?

You hear the voice that you still haven’t stopped to comprehend who it is say something again, but you don’t fully hear as you open your eyes to look up at Tom. Only, it’s not Tom, it’s Harry.

“Oh my god!” You yell startled, your eyes going wide and your body automatically flitching back, immediately putting you on the floor, making you hit your head with a grunt. “Ow.”

You go to sit up, putting a hand to your head as you look around. You now realize you’re between a just awoken and confused Harry, and a Samantha, Harry’s girlfriend. You look toward the door, seeing Tom just as he enters from the hallway, a smug smirk going over his features as he sees the scene in front of him, already figuring out what happened.

"Ya alright there, love?" he asks as he walks over to you.

"I did it again," you say in a defeated tone.

"Yeah, yeah, it's alright," he says with a hint of a laugh.

"Sorry, Harry," you say as you take Tom's hand, and he helps you up, putting his arm around your waist and walking toward your bedroom.

"If this makes this any better, I honestly thought she was you too."

Masterlist

Ahem: @mcushvft @lnmp89 @laylasbunbunny @tomhollandfics

[neonponders]

We Men Are Wretched Things

Happy Harringrove Week everyone!

• read on ao3 •

The room held an atmosphere of smoke tendrils over their heads. Bluish-green eyes tracked the silver wisps from incense, lamps, candles, and human activity—

Only to land on large, brown eyes gazing back at him through the crowd. Like he had been waiting to be noticed. Doe eyes. Oxen eyes. Goddess eyes.

The Prince of Sparta was not the only one to be rumored with divine blood in their bones. The Prince of Troy did too, and he had certainly been given a feast of devotional attention tonight.

Billy sighed as their guest stood up, knowing he had every intention of approaching. Billy hid behind his goblet, tipping it all the way back—a balm on his senses at the cost of an empty cup.

A large hand took it from him, and slid it over the inky surface of the table’s krater. Billy refused the replenished cup when it was offered. “I don’t want the children’s wine.”

Troy’s prince blinked at him slowly, and smiled just as groggily. “It’s not for children just because it’s been diluted a bit.”

“I prefer strong wine.”

That made the prince wilt as he looked into the cup. Then he recovered with a shrug. “I like it. The water makes it fruitier and less bitter.”

Then he drank out of Billy’s cup. An intrusive, almost violent urge to snatch it from Steve’s hand flashed across Billy’s mind. His cup. The moist prints of his lips. A desperate need to keep every part of himself out of Steve’s hands, off his lips made Billy’s throat run dry, the wine’s bitterness making the room feel like a southern desert instead of a humid gathering of all his father’s foreign and domestic dignitaries.

Steve placed the cup on the table, his tone harder yet soft. “Why are you upset?”

Billy licked his lips and smiled without it touching his eyes. “Elaborate.”

So Steve did: “You asked me to be here.”

Billy’s smile dropped a measure. “That was months ago.”

“Did you not mean it?”

Billy exhaled for calm and looked elsewhere. Steve was…difficult to look at sometimes. Simply put, Billy had forgotten how handsome Ilion bred its princes. Steve had every feature which went into a statue of perfect, marble beauty. Handsomeness sharpened into austerity as he grew more and more annoyed, but Billy could tell he was trying to be patient. To understand.

Billy’s father’s people were supposed to be the philosophers and defenders of rationale. Ilion excelled over them in this too, it seemed.

Speaking of, Billy countered, “I remember asking you about your name. Stéfanos Aléxandros.”

“The first is the name my parents gave me. The second is the name your people call me.”

“What do your people call you?”

“Paris. You know this. Paris and Aléxandros mean the same thing. Why are we talking about this?”

“Because last time, we argued, and somehow you took that as an invitation.”

A smile returned to Steve’s face in a flash, like he had finally understood something, or perhaps they were finally in a direction he wanted to be. “You called me a son of Troy. I tried to correct you. We call our home Ilion, and I invited you to see it. I guess when you refused, I took that to mean I had come back.”

Billy knew his cheeks had begun to betray him with pink warmth, because Steve’s eyes went there, caressing his face and taking in every detail. Steve asked again, “Did you not mean it?”

Billy let his head tip to the side as if he were bored. “Nothing’s changed.”

Steve’s expressive brows furrowed. “You say that like a relationship between Sparta and Ilion is a bad thing.”

“I am an heir and you are a pawn. Don’t you have someone to marry?”

“My brother already did that,” Steve remarked as if he had beaten Billy to a joke. “I have a nephew and everything. My parents put so much work into him and their posterity that they didn’t have much energy to hold me to the same rules.”

“It shows,” Billy grumbled, finally succumbing to drink from the same infernal cup.

Steve’s gaze swept over the feast. The wooden tables and beams had absorbed centuries of wine and beer fumes to smell festively sour. Sweet perfumes contrasted it, making the space almost smell nice. Or overwhelming. Billy preferred the more subtle mixtures that nature provided outside. The salt of the ocean. The dull bite of stone and wet soil. The crisp freshness of green things and—

“She could come with us.”

Billy looked at him dumbly, and both too slowly and all at once realized who Steve had taken to looking at. “The gods gave you beauty instead of brains.”

“Thank you?” Steve puzzled. “Why not? You talk about pawns. Your sister would love Ilion—”

“She’s not my sister,” Billy blurted before murmuring, “If her feet leave Spartan soil, it would mean war.”

Steve stared at him, and Billy realized what kind of light had been behind his eyes this whole time. Hope, for it was hope that began to drain from Steve’s smile. “Why?”

“Because that’s all my father knows. That is all Sparta is. They fight, they fuck, and they do it all over again.”

Steve did not have a ready answer for that. The noise of the party eclipsed them. So much so, that Billy took the chance to leave it altogether. He had to give his father and his second wife the respect of approaching them before he left. The king was far enough in the festivities to not care; the queen sat tired and bored enough to smile at him and nothing more.

Outside, the night was graciously quiet, fragrant, and gentle. Billy pissed onto the roots of a bay leaf bush, and then set out on a familiar walking path toward the ocean. When running footfalls started to crescendo toward him, a part of Billy hoped it would be one of the guards. The part of him who hoped for Steve recoiled with too many feelings to sort through.

“What are you doing?”

“Going for a naked swim. How nice to pass you along the way.”

Billy frowned, only to bark, “HEY!”

Steve plucked the brass and gold pin from his raiment, making the expansive fabric fall like water over Billy’s arms. Far from bothered—merely inconvenienced—this was Greece. Nudity was the last thing for which Billy would feel shame.

After rolling up his himation into a ball under his arm, Billy took off over the hills and down over the dunes. Steve may have had the advantage, but Billy had the hardened feet and overtook him fast. They tumbled over the sand, grit and dry seaweed abrasive over their skin. Steve came up sputtering, and Billy crowed at his expense. “Your city has too many walls for you to learn how to run.”

“How would you know? You haven’t been there,” Steve reminded, smacking sand off his face before he admitted defeat and moved toward the water. His formal clothes were a little different than Billy’s, but fell into colorful piles all the same. Billy laid back on his elbows, watching the line of Steve’s beautiful back come into view. He allowed himself a long look at the two mounds of his ass, and the way the back of Steve’s thighs wiggled.

The sea was calm tonight, and Steve looked good with the froth around his thighs and hips. Billy huffed, feeling his own hot air ripple over his chest before his gaze flicked to his swollen but not yet erect phallus. Before Steve could turn around, Billy marched for the water, diving past him and coming up with a whip of his hair. Steve scrunched his face against the water hitting him, but Billy could barely appreciate it. The view from the front proved just as riveting as the back. And when Billy stared too long at the dark hair on Steve’s chest, the latter had the chance to splash him back.

Billy spit salt and warned, “What did I say? Don’t pick a fight with Spartans.”

“Is it true you were born out of an egg?”

Billy’s features flattened, once again dumbstruck by this man. His arms splayed around him, treading the ocean’s current as it swayed around them. “Excuse me?”

“There are different versions of the rumor,” Steve began, “but it is said that Sparta’s queen slept with Zeus. No other reason could explain your beauty.”

“Oh,” Billy’s lashes fell halfway. “I’m not impressed.”

“You’re a little impressed.”

Billy dodged that by accusing, “Where the hell does an egg fit into this?”

“You…probably don’t want to know that part,” Steve admitted, finally looking bashful and reluctant.

“Finish what you started, pretty boy.”

Steve sighed and relented, “The more colorful version is that Zeus turned into a swan and slept with the queen. So the queen laid an egg.”

“I’m sure that’s popular with your citizens who dislike Greeks.”

“So it’s not true?”

“Do you believe everything your Apollo priests tell you?”

Steve did not give an answer for that…which made Billy think the answer might be yes. Billy felt the need to elaborate, “Which queen? My father married twice.”

“Either one, I guess.”

“My stepsister and I aren’t twins. How many eggs were there?”

“I get your point.”

“Then why on earth would you ask me if I came from an egg?”

“Because you’re beautiful. And last time I was here, it was your birthday.”

Billy’s features began to relax as he listened. He realized that Steve was right. The whole reason a Prince of Troy had ever come here was for his birthday feast and competitive games. Steve finished, “I’ve never seen anyone fight like you.”

“Troy is not known for fighting,” Billy threw back, but as quickly as he snapped, he soothed, “I’ve never seen anyone ride like you.”

That brought a smile to Steve’s face. “We’re known for horses.”

Billy scoffed, “Yeah, you can’t win anything without one.”

“Just because it was your birthday, doesn’t mean you could win everything.”

“I’ll allow it, only because your city would never let you back in if you lost the horse race.”

Steve laughed, and a strained bubble seemed to finally pop. Billy let his body recline back, floating so he could gaze up at the sky…

“That better be a fish touching me.”

“You’re drifting,” Steve refuted, grasping his ankle and tugging him through the surf.

“Never bothered me before,” he grumbled, lowering his legs to touch the pebbled sand once more. “I usually try to get as far as I can before walking back.”

“That’s a weird thing to say to me.”

Billy looked at him through the darkness. The moon shined bright from above, and reflected off the water and beach just as strongly. Dark and bright at the same time. Like maybe truths as bright and dangerous as the sun might be safe in the moon’s darkness. “I can’t go with you.”

“Not even for a little while?”

Billy shook his head. “My father will send a thousand ships after me.”

“Only a thousand?”

Billy slanted mirthless eyes at him. “Don’t mistake your visits here as his true character. He isn’t one to slight. I should know. I’ve been slighting him my whole life.”

“I’m not impressed, nor afraid of someone easy to anger.”

“You should be.”

With some talent that infuriated and elated him, Steve found Billy’s hand under the water. “All I’m hearing is that you’re afraid to live in your own house.”

For some reason…Billy let himself be pulled through the water again. He could not stop the prickle behind his eyes that the touch and his involuntary tolerance brought on. He prayed that the moon did not reflect off his eyes the same as it did the water around them. “I am my father’s heir and my sister’s soldier. I’m the most expensive thing he has.”

“You would be loved like a god in Ilion,” Steve whispered.

Billy did not know when he had stopped breathing. Somehow, he barely felt the need to until he shook his head. “Gods are for fear. Love is for us.”

“Don’t say that,” Steve crumbled. His other hand found the side of Billy’s jaw, wet fingerprints on his skin like butterflies. “I’ll have to steal you if you say that.”

His hand committed to touching Billy, and cradled the junction of his nape as he captured Billy’s lips.

Billy let him. He let Steve take his cup, and Steve gave it back, full. Not even Zeus could refuse the poor soul who filled his cups. Billy let Steve take his lips, and Steve gave back his tongue, the taste of wine and honeyed figs. Is this how Ares felt, when Aphrodite took his helm in exchange for a place to rest? A place to exist without cost?

Steve came to Greece to celebrate Billy. He came back for Billy. And gods above, Billy was more afraid of what he’d give back to Steve for all of that.

[levans44]

chapter 3 - triple shot cold brew, pump of caramel

The next time Steve visited her cafe, he wasn’t alone, which sort of threw a wrench in their established routine.

She watched nervously as he approached the glass door, accompanied by a man wearing dark shades and a woman with straight, shoulder-length red hair. She gulped, hastily wiping her hands on her apron. Could it really be?

The three of them walked in in a rather amusing manner; the woman seemed to be trying to persuade Steve to do something, while the other guy strolled in first, peering around the shop curiously. He spotted the register and grinned widely, starting to slide the aviators off of his face. Steve, who was busy waving the woman off, stopped his friend, muttering “keep ‘em on, Tony.”

As they walked closer, it finally sank in that the red-haired woman was indeed the Black Widow, signature leather jacket and all. Judging by the facial hair, expensive-looking shades, and just the unmistakeable swagger, Steve’s other friend was, holy shit, Tony fucking Stark. Her head span a little — now, there was no longer one, but three Avengers inside her tiny cafe.

“Hi,” Steve offered her a rather apologetic smile, noticing the surprise on her face, which she was no doubt masking poorly.

“Hi! Uhm,” Think! “How can I help you guys today?”

It felt weird to even say that out loud. Her? Helping the Avengers?

Instead of getting a response, however, she heard Ironman (Tony, whatever) repeat her name out loud to himself, eyes mulling over the nametag clipped to her apron.

She perked up, eyes widening. “I… yep! That’s me.” She didn’t know how else to respond to that, especially with Tony sporting that rather odd grin, peering at her over the top of his glasses. Black Widow (Natasha was her ‘human’ name, she remembered), stood by with her arms crossed, sneaking clandestine glances between her and Steve (who looked absolutely mortified) with that same amused smirk on her face.

“I’m… I’m sorry. Just three coffees, please.” Steve muttered, pulling out his wallet.

“Sure, would you-“

“Now, hold on, Steve.” Tony interrupted, raising a hand, and all three sets of eyes fell on him.

“I want to see if she’s got any recommendations for us.”

At that, Steve’s face turned redder than the red velvet cake she had iced that morning.

“Tony…” Steve trailed off, obviously embarrassed. She could tell that this was something of an inside joke to the three of them — both Natasha and Tony seemed to be seconds away from bursting into a fit of giggles.

“Uhm, sure!” She responded, still eyeing them cautiously. Were the Avengers always this… eccentric?

“What kind of flavors do you guys prefer in your coffee? I could recommend something more bitter, fruitier, sweeter…”

“Oh, I’m sure Steve here will take as much sugar as he can get.” Tony patted Steve on the shoulder, making the poor man blush three times harder. Natasha had to clear her throat and look away just to retain her poker face.

“Ok, great, I’ll uh, make something for all three of you to try.”

As she rang them up, she had to resist from smiling at the look Steve was giving her through all of the blushing (it read: ’I’m so sorry, please don’t hate me’).

When she placed their drinks on the counter, Tony immediately grabbed his cup, licking his lips as he brought it up to his mouth.

“I gotta warn ya, I’m a bit of an expert when it comes to coffee.” He glanced at her over those shades while he took a sip of his drink — triple shot cold brew with a pump of caramel. For a busy guy like Tony Stark, it was the only drink that made sense. She got Natasha a hot dark roast, guessing it was no nonsense and straightforward like her.

She watched, trying to stifle a smile as Tony’s face stretched wide into a grin, eyebrows raised over the aviators.

“Damn, you were right Rogers. She is good.”

It was her turn to blush at that: had Steve talked to his superhero friends about her? What could he possibly have said?

Before things could get too awkward, a very perceptive Natasha called out for Tony, steering him away from her and Steve.   

Once Tony was (mostly) out of earshot, Steve leaned across the counter, biceps bulging through his tight grey shirt, as he gave her an apologetic smile.

“Again, I’m very sorry about… them.” They both eyed his friends standing in the doorway, pretending to be partaking in a serious conversation but very obviously eavesdropping.

“It’s okay” she laughed. It was endearing, she thought, that even superheroes went out to get coffee together during lunch.

That thought had been occupying her mind, though: at this point in their relationship, did he seriously still think that she didn’t know who he was?

“I know who you are, you know.” Screw it, he had to know at this point, right? No guy is ever that humble. It felt ridiculous to not mention it.

“Oh?”

She let out a small laugh, feeling weird for even saying it out loud. Like it was some sort of a naughty secret that needed be kept under wraps.

“You’re Capt-”

“Oh, that!”

He exclaimed, glancing off to the side, hand reaching the back of his neck in that familiar manner. She pursed her lip at the way his shirt rode up over his jeans.

“Yeah, I… Guess the secret’s out.”

Much to her astonishment, he seemed disappointed that she knew, his posture somehow more guarded than before. It couldn’t be easy, she thought, trusting people when you’re Captain America. Maybe he had liked living as just Steve in her cafe for a little while, as the human behind the showy superhero alias.

Other than the disappointment, he also seemed nervous about her finding out. She almost scoffed at the thought; was he really worried that she’d no longer be interested in him because of his secret identity? She’d be damned if that wasn’t the most humble thing she’d ever heard of. Typical Steve.

Thing is, she’d only ever liked Steve for who he was with her — the version of him who’s always the most enthusiastic when it comes to her desserts; the one who keeps her company whenever business is slow; the one who asked her if she believed in soulmates; the one who never fails to send butterflies fluttering in her stomach with a single smile, a glance.

That endearingly awkward guy who shuffled into her tiny cafe on that random, opportune Monday and asked her for a recommendation. 

And with all of these fuzzy, happy memories in her mind, it was hard to find a reason to not do what she was about to do next.

“Anyway, I’m sorry again for my… friends, they can-“

“Give me your cup.”

He looked up at her in surprise, those blue eyes crinkling into a confused smile as he slid his cup across the counter.

‘Steve :)

A cheese factory erupted in France.

Da brie everywhere!’

The cup read. Turning it around in her hand she brought her pen up to the surface, scribbling down 10 digits in shaky handwriting.

“Here, um… don’t feel pressured to or anything but…” She muttered, sliding the cup back over.

Steve’s confused expression soon turning into a wide smile as he read the cup, those cheeks tinting pink again. The guarded tension in his shoulders notably dissipated, much to her relief.

“Thank you.” A pause.

“I... I will.”

She nodded and ducked her head, failing to hide a blush of her own.

“Steve, we gotta head back.” Natasha suddenly called from across the cafe. They turned to notice Tony frowning at something on his phone, expression uncharacteristically rigid.

She watched Natasha give Steve a look, one she couldn’t quite decipher but knew was about something serious, something work-related. Steve couldn’t hide the disappointment on his face, but as soon as he checked the message lighting up his phone, he immediately turning stoic, shoulders stiffening and jaw setting. He straightened up, an air of professionalism appearing around him in a matter of seconds.

“I’m sorry, we have to go.”

“Of course.” She nodded understandingly.

“…and thank you, again.” He lifted his cup in appreciation and gave her a smile, before joining the other two.

Natasha gave her a wave from the door as Tony yelled “I’ll be back next week, coffee girl!” Steve jostled them both out, giving her one last wave before all three of them rushed out of the cafe, turned the corner, and disappeared out of sight.

And that was the last time she saw Steve in a long time.

(cap)puccino, w/ milk and sugar masterlist