#will who has always drawn and listened to his music and wanted to hang out with his friends and play dnd and who

[bylertruther]

"will shouldn't use a gun in season five because his father probably taught him how to use one and that could be a bad reminder for him" have you considered that will using what was very likely a Bad experience to save his life in what is undoubtedly an even worse experience could be a good thing? have you considered that him using a skill he was forced to learn to save not only himself but (as is likely more important and meaningful to him) the lives of others could give him a sense of usefulness and safety knowing that he isn't defenseless and can stand his and others' ground if need be? especially considering that's a skill that we've only seen hopper and nancy possess, making it that much more valuable and himself more helpful to the group? after everything in s1 and s2, he's probably felt guilty for having endangered them and dozens of other people multiple times, i don't think it'd be out there for him to feel "happy" that he can finally return the favor and protect them for once (especially after having complained about being babied and treated like a doll).

"will doesn't have and shouldn't have powers because that makes him different and he doesn't want to be different" not only are you wrong lol <3 but how have you not noticed that will's entire thing since the very beginning is that he is different and he knows it and while he does get his heart broken over the fact that this means he faces constant unfairness in life, he still refuses to be any other way? will doesn't conform nor does he ever try to even when others try to force or shame him to. he gets frustrated and upset at being treated differently, yes, but he stays true to himself. to battle that feeling he sometimes gets that tells him he's a mistake, a feeling he gets not from his own otherness but from living in a world that Makes it an otherness and thus isolates him for it, he seeks out that which he loves and enjoys and throws himself wholeheartedly at it. will lives his truth and is willing to suffer the consequences for it. he refuses to live in darkness and let it take a hold of him. he holds on to hope and all that makes him feel better for being different. he holds on to art, to dnd, to video games, to his family and his friends, and everything that brings him joy and reminds him that it's okay to be different. in s1 joyce defends will ("he's missing is what he is") and jonathan tells him he shouldn't like things that other people (namely their homophobic dad) try to force him to like, that he should like what he genuinely likes. in s2 jonathan gives will the freak speech and tells him that no one normal ever accomplished anything and mentions bowie. in s3, he doesn't get a speech, (though joyce does tell him that when he falls in love he won't find it gross [avoiding the word girlfriend and leaving it neutral]) but he does face backlash from someone that IS trying to conform and IS shaming will for not letting go of "childish" things aka his interests, what's important to him, and what he wants. does will back down or shy away in shame? no. instead, he lets mike sit in his shame for having said something that hurtful, and he says "yeah. i guess i did. i really did." clearly this is a conversation about what makes will different aka his sexuality bc he goes and destroys castle byers (the safe place he and his brother built once their homophobic dad left which is a place will can be himself unapologetically) with what is likely a bat that lonnie gave him when trying to get him into baseball. he calls himself stupid and donates his dnd books, but i don't see this as an act of conformity (he tells mike as much, suggesting he'll just use his books + if he was ashamed he wouldn't have painted the party as their dnd characters and given it to him of all people lol). he felt stupid because he thought they'd always be crazy together, that they were of the same mind and heart still, and that they had the same brand of "otherness" if you catch my drift. then in s4 we get jonathan's tender "you're my brother and there is nothing absolutely nothing that will ever change that" which is the most direct anyone has ever been about that which makes will different. and he doesn't shy away from it! he doesn't deny it, because we can see from his confession and how he breaks down that he's desperately been wanting and needing to hear that. he accepts that love and allows himself to be held and seen by someone else, as he has every other time. because will doesn't hate being different, he just hates that he has to live in a world where that's seen as wrong and thus makes him feel like he doesn't belong because of it. but he doesn't change himself. he doesn't feel ashamed of it. he doesn't see it as a flaw in himself or others and he never has. will is different and he knows it and he wouldn't have it any other way.

will's story since the beginning has been about being different and going through awful things, and managing to not only find the light in it but also make it out stronger because of it all. it's always been about using what makes him different as a good thing and as something he uses to save himself and others.

will being good with a gun bought him time with whatever kidnapped him. will knowing how to run and hide kept him alive in the upside down. will acted as a spy while possessed and managed not only to save hopper but also tell them how to finish this. will's experiences and senses helped them figure out what was happening in season three. will's love and loyalty inspires mike and manages to bring him to a better place even if just for a moment in the van, and again he's the one that knows vecna's current state, aaaand had he been in hawkins at the time it likely would've gone a lot better because as dustin said "we need will".

taking something awful and turning it into a good thing and a source of strength is a wonderful trope. it's inspiring and empowering not only for the character but for those that could use that hope and reminder that there's always a silver lining, that life isn't all darkness and shadows and hurt. not only that, but it's something that they've literally always done for will since the very beginning. he is the prime character for that. his entire message has always been that it's okay to be different and that you can find strength and peace in that; that the things that make you different aren't a detriment, they're precisely what make you strong. like... i'm sorry, but have you not been paying attention at all whatsoever this entire time or... :/

[duuhrayliegh]

equal and opposite (consequences, pt. 2)

a/n: first of all, yall really showed out with the comments and reblogs on the first part of this so THANK YOU SO MUCH like i haven't written anything that i felt was good in months so to have such an overwhelmingly positive response to that post felt amazing!!!!

if you haven’t read part one, i highly recommend checking that out first!!!!

anyway, i hadn't originally intended for this to go anywhere else, but as i've said before bartender!bucky & peanut just wouldn't go away so here we are!!! i hope this lives up to the expectations and if we want more PLEASE LET ME KNOW I LIVE TO PLEASE

“Can you please just sit down? I don’t understand what’s happening to us!”

“That’s the problem!”

He throws his hands above his head out of exasperation. They land on his hips as their new resting place and he levels you with a frustrated glare. A glare. Apparently, you’re not worth the energy it takes to filter the emotions from his tone or expressions. That luxury must be saved for his plethora of mistresses.

“You don’t understand me anymore!”

“Understand you?”

Going home has become harder and harder. Despite desperately wanting to fix your marriage, it seems your efforts might have been in vain. No matter how hard you try, your husband has made every effort to avoid having a real conversation with you. To say you’re at your wit's end would be generous.

“Yes! Coming home to you is too stressful for me. I’m in the office all week and then I come home to a wife who doesn’t put in any effort to make herself desirable for me.”

Your jaw dropped, as did the wooden spoon in your hand. His words float through your head on repeat. That voice you used to love, the same voice that vowed to always love and cherish you in his wedding vows. Now, you’re cooking for a man you don’t know.

“Then why stay with me? If I’m so clearly not what you want, why stay?”

There’s a drawn out silence that is accompanied by softly heaving breaths and the simmering pot of homemade spaghetti sauce.

“You’re what I want in a wife. You just don’t understand my needs in the way that Shelia does.”

Your blood boils. Shelia—the latest girlfriend in a string of girlfriends. How dare he? You turn to the stove and begin clicking everything off. You fume while gathering your purse and keys to a home that you no longer feel welcome in.

“This is why I didn’t want to get into this. You’re too emotional and I knew you’d play the victim whenever I’m suffering too!”

You roll your eyes, refusing to engage because you’ll only hurt yourself more. Instead, you pry the door open and slam it shut before trekking off down the hallway.

You don’t have a plan, all you know is that you need to get out. You’re lucky that you were wearing a hoodie and jeans whenever you started getting into it with John. It’s not the first time that you had to get out, so you’ve learned over the past few months.

Wind whips against your cheeks when you exit your apartment building. You pull your hood over your head and start walking aimlessly. You reach for your phone and dial the first number you think of.

You never stop walking, street lamps lighting the sidewalk with a pale yellow light. There’s an irritating sting starting behind your eyes that you refuse to acknowledge. You don’t have to listen to the trilling of the phone line for long before it’s interrupted.

“Commando’s. How can I help you?”

The music in the bar is loud enough that you can clearly make out Steve’s divorced dad rock playlist. A rush of relief shoots down your spine and you breathe a sigh while enjoying the subtle ambiance through your phone speaker.

“Hello?”

It’s only then that you realize you’ve been on the phone for the past thirty seconds without saying anything.

“Bucky?”

“Peanut?”

“Hi, uh--I didn't have your number and I didn't know who else to call."

"Hang on, Peanut. I'm here, hang on." Suddenly the music is reduced to a bouncing bass line. "Are you okay?"

You continue walking, breathing in the stale air of the city as you debate your answer. For the most part, sure, you're okay. You’re not physically harmed in any way, just a deep emotional hurt that persists through the stark cold of the air around you. But if someone looked twice, or you spend more than half a second around someone you're comfortable with, that answer wouldn’t hold water.

"The wheels, Peanut, I can hear them. I need you to answer me. Are you okay?"

Bucky's voice is soft and grounding. Your heartbeat starts to match the steady baseline of the bar's music.

"I'm okay?"

Bucky's soft laugh echoes through the phone speaker, "That sounded like a question more than an answer, Peanut." He then pauses and sighs, "What did he do now?"

You suck in a sharp breath, debating on how to answer his question. The lead weight that had previously settled in your stomach begins to lessen as you hear Bucky’s voice.

On the one hand, Bucky has become the person you feel the most comfortable with. You don't have anyone close to you in the city because you moved out here to support John's career. Your family is on the other side of the country, and it's not like you've had a whole lot of time to build a support system here.

On the other, Bucky didn't sign up for this. He didn't sign up for a broken wife that isn't even his! You have no connection to him outside of becoming a regular at his bar and forming a possibly misguided attraction.

“Peanut? Come on back to me."

“Sorry, Buck. I just—“ you trail off, not entirely sure how to handle yourself.

“Don’t worry about it, Peanut Butter.” You laugh softly at the lengthier version of your nickname while he continues talking. “Look, how about we meet somewhere so we can talk?”

“Aren’t you working tonight though? I can just come to the bar.”

No matter how appealing Bucky’s offer is, you don’t want him to risk his livelihood for you. You aren’t worth that, not really.

“Not anymore, Pea. You’re more important to me. The guys here can handle the bar while I leave to take care of my Ps and Qs.”

You giggle again, unsure of where he comes up with these iterations.

“There she is.”

The words are murmured low, as if he was just speaking to himself. As if it’s a remark not meant for public consumption, just a murmur of his adoration.

“There’s a little hole in the wall on 115th and North. It’s called Winnie’s. Meet me there and you can talk for however long they’re serving coffee.”

"Don't diners always serve coffee?"

"They sure do. And Winnie's is a 24-hour diner. Which means," There's a loud shuffle on his end of the phone and then his voice cuts through. "you can talk to me for as long as you want, Peanut."

"Thank you, Bucky." You aren't as loud as you meant to be, but you know he hears you when he hums before you end the call.

Shoving the phone in the pocket of your jacket, you search for street signs.

And now you stand in front of Winnie's, a sixties diner straight off a movie set. Bright neon illuminates the street below, bathing you in a turquoise light that you're sure is not at all flattering. The front door is encased in chrome and vinyl covers the seating throughout the restaurant.

You push through the front doors and spy a large jukebox on the left side of the building. There's no host stand, so you peer around the seats in search of your bartender.

"Welcome to Winnie's. hun! Just take a seat, we'll be right with ya!"

An older woman yells from behind the bar top. Her graying hair is pulled into a neat bun at the base of her neck and you're just about to read her nametag when you hear a familiar voice.

"Peanut! This-a-way!" Bucky stands from a booth in the corner, grabbing your attention and everyone else in the restaurant.

A bright blush colors your cheeks as you make your way to his booth in the corner. The linoleum floor of the diner becomes increasingly interesting the closer you find yourself to Bucky. To be completely truthful, you've never seen Bucky outside of the bar, so this is a jarring, but welcome experience.

He's still wearing those annoyingly large boots and tight white shirt that never fails to distract you when you're sitting on the twirly bar stools. His metal arm is on full display, the gold in-lay catching the light as he twists a straw wrapper into a tight spiral.

Bucky stands to greet you once you reach the booth, leaning toward you and wrapping you in his warm embrace. Your breath catches at his sudden body heat, but you waste no time in curling your arms around his torso.

"This might be the dumbest and most obvious question, but," he pulls back from the hug and gestures toward the seat across from him, "how’re you doing?"

A stifled laugh escapes as you settle into the worn vinyl seat. Instead of answering, you pull a less-than-convincing smile that you know Bucky can see right through. Evidenced by the fact that he laughs sarcastically at the look of it.

"Yeah, thought as much."

"It's just all becoming too much, I think."

An older woman brings two coffee mugs to the table, gripping a half-full coffee pot in her other hand. You stop yourself before you divulge anything in the presence of strangers. You don't need to burden another random stranger with your problems, Bucky is more than enough.

“Who's your friend, Jamie?"

Bucky smiles while introducing you to the woman. He extends the same courtesy to you, placing the name of the woman in front of you.

"Peanut, this is Winnie. She's the owner and operator of Winnie's diner."

Bucky pours a healthy dose of sugar into your coffee mug and then drops a spoon into it before pushing it across to you. You're in the middle of taking a large sip of the hot drink when Bucky continues talking.

"She's also my mother."

“Oh!"

He laughs as you sputter, completely phased by his nonchalance about introducing you to his mother. To be fair, you don’t really know Bucky outside of him being a great listener and mixologist. Winnie laughs and talks with the both of you before politely excusing herself to take care of her other customers.

“Your mother?”

Bucky leans forward and locks eyes with you.

“I’m so sorry. She wasn’t meant to be working today, but you would have met her one way or another.”

There he goes again, that dizzying nonchalance that bleeds into every word he speaks. Your mouth opens to speak, but you're still in a state of stunned that has you stumbling on your words.

"I'm just kidding, Nutter Butter." Bucky laughs and you hum while picking at your cuticles.

"Sorry, just took me by surprise."

"Clearly."

Bucky glances at your hands that are resting on the table and shifts around his side of the booth. There's a brief moment of silence as you mull over what Winnie has said.

"Did she call you 'Jamie'?"

Bucky lets out a loud laugh. One of those laughs that sounds like the feeling snuck up on everyone, including the person laughing.

"That's what you focused on, Peanut?"

You're smiling more in the past five minutes with Bucky than you have in the past five months with John. Bucky stops shuffling and then removes his coffee cup from the saucer it sits on. He slides the tiny plate toward you as you talk.

"Thank you for meeting me, Buck. Like I said, I think I'm just getting too tired of his bullshit. He really came at me today with the attitude that this is all my fault." Bucky nods as you continue speaking, "As if I'm the one who asked for an open marriage."

Bucky reveals a Ziplock bag and dumps the contents of it into the saucer in front of you. You're just about to start a rant when he nudges a salty shell into your hands. You glance down for half a second before getting the ball rolling.

"John asked for this! He's the one that's causing all this... this turmoil in our relationship. I haven't gone on a single date! I haven't caused a single issue. All I've been trying to do is understand things from his point of view, but he won't even give me the time of day to do that. I can't even suggest something like marriage counseling because he runs out the door the second he sees me enter a goddamn room."

You stop to take another long sip of your coffee while Bucky sits back and lets you rant at him across from yet another counter. You can see him chewing on the inside of his cheek, clearly holding back from saying something.

"I don't even know what to do anymore!" You huff and shove your hair over your shoulder. "What do you think?"

"Do you want my honest opinion or do you want me to just be here for you?"

"I want you to be you."

"Okay." Bucky nods, you crack open yet another peanut and place the shell on a napkin next to the plate. "I think you should start considering divorcing ol' Johnny boy."

"I can't do that."

Your response is immediate. Too quick to be healthy really. The shell of the peanut cracks between your fingers, revealing the salty perfection inside.

"Alright, divorce is off the table. How do you feel about separation?"

"No."

"Why?"

"It goes against everything I was raised to believe. I was brought up under the idea that the person you marry is the person you stick next to no matter what."

"Even when that person isn't extending the same courtesy?"

"I just--" You sniffle, peeling open yet another peanut. "I just want to be loved, Bucky. I don't understand what I did to make him look for love and affection from someone other than me."

Bucky reaches across the table and covers your hand with his, rubbing his thumb against your knuckles soothingly. You found yourself in this same position three months ago. It was when Bucky first told you of his interest in dating you.

To be perfectly honest, you were about two slow blinks away from folding into his arms then. Nothing's changed. You're still half a second from completely melting for the man before you, but you can't get over the fact that you're married.

"Peanut, you may never understand his reasoning. Especially when he won't sit down and explain anything to you. I think you should do what's in your best interest. If you don't want to divorce or separate, then you need to surround yourself with people who will give you that love and affection that you need."

A soft lull coats the pair of you and you allow your eyes to lock with Bucky's. What you find there shocks you.

Pity is something that you never, ever want to experience, but with a shitty situation like your marriage, you've come to expect it. Every time you glance in a mirror or catch your reflection in a store window, or even a puddle of water, you find your own eyes layered with that sickening sadness that accompanies self-pity.

However, in Bucky's clear blue eyes, you find nothing but determination. Determination for what is the question you're now faced with. In all reality, Bucky has no dog in this fight. He has no reason to be helping you the way that he has. Bucky's expressed interest in you, sure, but that doesn't constitute going to the lengths that he does.

"I just want you to be happy."

"Do you think you could make me happy?"

"Absolutely."

You nod while popping the last peanut into your mouth and wiping your hands off on your jeans. You stand unceremoniously and then hold your hand out to Bucky. He stares at your outstretched hand in half-baked shock and then jumps at the opportunity.

"See ya later, Ma! Love ya."

"Will you be home for family dinner?"

"Nope, gotta take my Peanut to the ballgame!"

Bucky rushes you out of the diner and pulls you to a heavy-looking motorcycle. You laugh as he pries open one of the saddlebags on the bike. He reveals two helmets, one white and one black. Both have sleek features with a face cover that reflects Bucky's sharp features.

"What?" His laugh that follows is full of nervous energy as you continue to laugh. "What's so funny?"

"It just--" You snort quietly, "You would drive a motorcycle."

"Oh yeah? And why's that, Peanut Brittle?"

You wave your hand as if you're circling his whole body and shrug while smiling your ass off.

"You just gestured to all of me."

You both break into a fit of laughter, only for Bucky to break it off and unclip the chin strap of the white helmet.

"Well, does safety also fit with..." he does the same gesture as you, "all this?"

Bucky gently rests the helmet on the leather seat of the motorcycle and then leans over to you.

"You might want to pull your hair back. Trust me I love your hair down, but whenever you're riding it's easier in the long run."

"Oh, okay." You begin to pull your hair back when you remember that your hair tie is on the counter at your apartment. "Actually, I think I'll suffer the consequences."

Bucky glances at you and then asks, "You need a tie?"

He prompts you to turn around and he quickly coaxes your hair into a neat ponytail at the base of your neck. You turn back to him with wide eyes, your hand reaching back to check the hairstyle.

"Come on. I've got plans, Payday! I've got ideas to romance ya!"

You laugh while Bucky beams and puts the white helmet over your head. Once it's secured, he swipes the visor up and boops your nose. You scrunch it in retaliation and he shakes his head at you. He grips the sides of your helmet and tilts your head to the side. A loud Bluetooth signal sounds and a robotic female voice informs you that the device has been connected.

"So, basic rules of the bike. I lean, you lean." He taps on the side of the helmet he just fiddled with. "This is a microphone, so we'll be able to communicate without the visors being up. Don't be afraid to squeeze if you feel a little wobbly. I promise I can handle whatever you give me, Peanut."

You flush at his words, thankful that you're already wearing the helmet so he isn't privy to the bright red coloring overtaking your cheeks. Bucky slips on his own helmet and mounts the bike in one smooth motion. His hands glide to the handlebars and then he turns to face you and jerk his head in the opposite direction.

You release a deep breath and give yourself a mini pep talk before placing your hands on Bucky's shoulders. The difference between them keeps you grounded as you swing your leg over the back of the motorcycle. His voice shoots into your ears, a breathy fuck me that wasn't meant for your ears.

"You ready?"

This question is at a normal level, and you respond in kind. The bike roars to life beneath you and you jolt toward him, arms immediately wrapping around his waist tightly.

"Hold on tight, spider monkey."

You giggle and interlock your fingers above the waistline of his jeans. Now, you can feel every breath he takes, every minuscule contraction of his muscles from every movement he makes to control the beast between his legs. You try to take steady breaths in order to control your heartbeat and match Bucky's, but the faster he goes, the faster your heart beats against his back.

City lights blur past as you find your rhythm behind Bucky. The more comfortable you get, the looser your grip becomes around him. He takes you through downtown with all the newer, hipster restaurants inhabiting the busy streets. Bucky begins to slow and you look up to see his profile illuminated under the bright red of the traffic stop.

His feet rest on the ground beside the bike, holding it upright while it rumbles idly. Bucky leans back into you, his hands moving from the handlebars to your thighs. He traces the skin that's exposed by the rips of your jeans. The loose material allows just enough space for his fingers to burrow beneath and trace meaningless patterns into your skin.

Butterflies make themselves known in the pit of your stomach, along with another slightly less prominent heat building at his touch on your skin.

"We're almost there, Peanut Brittle." Bucky's voice is melodic through the microphone. You could fall asleep listening to him read a phone book.

The bike thunders to life again as Bucky releases the clutch. More buildings fade as he continues to steer the two of you down the less traveled streets.

"Where are you taking me?"

"Somewhere fun!"

He laughs at your little groan. Surprises aren't necessarily your favorite thing, but if it's Bucky, maybe it'll be tolerable.

Suddenly, Bucky drops his right hand from the bars and indicates his next turn. The pair of you lean in that direction slightly as he slows into a parking lot of a roller rink. The sign for the Rockin' Roller Rink has a bright yellow arrow blinking toward the building at the base of its billboard.

He rolls into a parking spot near the entrance and pops the kickstand out to steady the bike. You peel yourself off of his back and rest your hands on your thighs while taking in your surroundings. Bucky slips his helmet off and then turns his torso to face you.

"As much as I love you on my ride, Peanut, you have to get off first."

You flush red beneath the visor and quickly dismount. However, in your rush to get off, you don't realize how unstable your legs are as they bear your full weight after the ride. Bucky's hands shoot out to your waist as he remains on the bike, a wry grin on his lips.

"Sorry, should've warned you about that." He stands in front of you and dusts off your shoulders before deciding that you're okay. "It's because of the riding position when you're on the bike. If you aren't used to that, it can be a little jarring the first few times."

He takes your helmet and then removes the keys from the ignition. Bucky bends at the waist and hooks his key carabiner to your belt loops.

As he straightens to his full height, he remarks with a wink, "Plus, the vibrations don't help much either."

You squawk unattractively and smack his chest with the back of your hand while he belly laughs. His metal hand hovers over your lower back as he guides you into the double doors of the roller rink. While he pulls open the door for you, you think about all the times that your husband has failed to do even that act of basic decency.

You shake your head as you walk in, determined to put him out of your mind. That is until you remember the one stipulation of your open marriage--you both have to disclose when you go on dates. Your mind drifts to all the unanswered texts he's sent you about his various dates. Little quips that accomplish nothing but remind you that your husband sees you as less than. A relationship that he no longer has to put effort into and hasn't for some time now. You take your phone from your back pocket to shoot John a quick text, a sour look overtaking your face as you do.

On a date, be home later. You’re quick to swipe your phone onto do not disturb and shove it back into your pocket. You aren’t ready to face the hypocrisy that John will manage to cook up.

"You okay, Peanut?" Bucky's voice clears everything. All the swirling doubt, the immense turmoil that you feel when you think of John, everything negative is wiped when you focus on Bucky.

Perhaps that's also an issue. Maybe you need to be single instead of dating. Maybe you need to love yourself before anyone else can effectively love you. What if that's the real issue? The real reason why John had to seek affection outside of your marital bonds. Maybe it was because you were so unloveable to the point that it was more effort to work through your issues than find an effortless partner somewhere else.

A cold finger taps your temple causing you to blink harshly and refocus on the man before you. This man who's become your safe haven, your harbor in this horrific storm that is your marriage. The man who brings peanuts to his mother's diner because you called him to meet up. The man who knows you better than your husband who you've known for half your life.

"The wheels," your bartender reminds you as he pulls you to the side of the room. His arms envelop you until all you can process is biceps, one cold and one warm. Bucky's cheek rests against your head and you can't find it in yourself to stop from melting into his touch. "How about this," he shifts away from you just enough to meet your eyes, "you just take it one hour at a time?"

"One hour?" You ask, brows furrowing skeptically at the concept. You've never been someone who just focuses on the thing in front of you. Your whole life you had a plan--get married, have kids, and secure a stable home life. Although, now that you think about it, your way isn't really that effective. What has your way got you? A decaying marriage, no kids, and a job that you tolerate at most.

"Just one at a time. Nothing can be that daunting if it's one at a time." He smiles big and leans forward, "And let's face it, your first hour is going to be spent watching me almost bust my ass on rollerblades."

You giggle and look at the ground, only for Bucky to lift your face up with a finger on your chin. He stares deep into your eyes, making you think if you stare long enough, you'll meld into one. His grip changes so that most of his fingers cup your jaw, allowing his thumb to trace your bottom lip. His metal finger tugs downward on your lip, releasing it from the hold between your teeth.

"That's definitely one of my current favorite noises you make." He struts off to the front counter, you trailing behind with a confused look on your face at his dopey smile. The implications of his comment seeping into your bones causing a deep heat to light in the pit of your stomach.

As you approach the teller, Bucky's already disclosed his shoe size for the rental pair of skates. The teenager behind the counter makes a bored grunt at the instruction and turns to you, waiting for your size before they trot off to fill the order. Once again, you're left alone with your bartender.

You lean against the raised platform, shoulder digging into the overhanging lip of the counter. During this brief moment of solitude, you take your time taking in Bucky. He really is a mountain of a man, coming in at six-foot-five inches of corded muscle and steel, he's really nothing less than impressive.

His hair just brushes the top of his broad shoulders, though you hardly ever see it down. He always manages to have it tied securely at the base of his neck. However one time, you remember walking into the bar only to see Bucky behind the bar, as usual. Except his hair was bundled on the top of his head. Little wisps of hair fell from the looser hold, framing his forehead and neck. On top of that, he was wearing a red henley that was at least two sizes too small with the sleeves rolled up, showing off his differing forearms in the dim light of Commandos.

It's safe to say that during those few hours you spent with Bucky looking like that, you were a little slower to respond. What's interesting though is that Bucky looks nothing like John. You always thought that John was your ideal man. Based on who you married, you would have assumed you'd be more attracted to Steve than Bucky. Instead, you find yourself lacing up a pair of rental roller skates, that might give you athlete's foot if you're not careful, with the imposing dark-haired man next to you.

"Why bartending?"

The question floats between you as you take the floor. Glistening hardwood reflects the bright neon of the strobe lights and your image beside Bucky. You watch as he glances down at you before refocusing his attention on the path in front of him.

"Well, if I'm being honest, I kind of stumbled into it." He wobbles dangerously as he speaks, hand jutting out to grasp yours in an act of safety. "Shit, sorry." He apologizes sheepishly but makes no move to drop your hand.

You giggle beside him, butterflies awakening from his act of self-comfort, a feeling you haven't felt since your relationship with John began. Bucky squeezes your hand, straightens his back, and pulls you around the rink.

"When I was discharged, it wasn't so much as bartending as it was the ownership of the bar. It gave me a chance to gain some semblance of control back." He stares off into the distance as he speaks as if he's reciting words he said time and time before. You peer up at him, waiting for the rest of his explanation.

Even though you've known Bucky for as long as you have, neither of you has really delved too deep into your pasts. To say you know next to nothing about Bucky's time in the military would be generous. You hum while you ponder his answer.

"Does that need carry into other aspects of your life?"

It's a genuine question, something to move the conversation along because you honestly want to know more about the man beside you. The double entendre of the question doesn't process until you see Bucky blushing beside you with a wry grin. Your eyes bulge, words stammering out of your mouth without finding their full forms.

"Oh-- uh, n— that's not wh--" Your eyes drop to the ground beneath you, the sleek wood reflecting the neon disco of the roller rink lights.

Bucky chuckles beside you, slowly rubbing his thumb against the knuckles of the hand he still holds. He steers the pair of you to the side of the rink, locking you against the slightly sticky bannister with his strong forearms. You quickly level him with a questioning stare as he leans forward and takes a deep breath, undoubtedly getting a strong whiff of your soft vanilla and cherry perfume.

“I’m trying to be very good for you, Peanut. So I’m going to say this once and then we’re going to continue with our date and it isn’t going to come up again until you bring it up yourself.” Your nod is almost imperceptible, but considering how Bucky continues without consequence, you figure he was just mentally preparing himself for his next comment.

“I am enamored with you. I want to have sex with you. I have fantasies that revolved exclusively around you. However, I’m not putting any pressure on this relationship or you. I understand that you need time to process your grief and your marriage, but just know that I’m more than happy to help you through the process and I certainly hope that I’m the first one you go to once you get to a place when you feel confident enough to explore your sexuality.”

You flush at his words, a hot streak racing up your spine before settling in your cheeks, blossoming them into a heavy shade of crimson. Bucky’s left hand comes up to your forehead, brushing away a strand of hair out of your face.

“But not only that, I want to have a relationship with you. I want the late night cuddles. I want the early morning breakfasts. I want to come home from the bar and take a shower with you. I want to wash your hair. I want you to massage my shoulders after a long day. I want to host Saturday barbecues with you for my family and our friends. I want to drive you to the bookstore and regret driving the motorcycle after you get so many because I just can’t say no to you.”

Bucky’s hand drifts down your arm, tracing the soft skin, taking his time to lace his fingers with yours. He pulls you away from the ledge, leading you two into the hustle and bustle of the roller rink. A smile stretches across his features as he tugs you along, a slow steady silence backed by the bumping base of the house music. You fumble with who to respond to him, but you eventually decide that no words are necessary. You know that yiu’ll be able to discuss things further later, you allow yourself to fall into the comfortable company that is your favorite bartender.

Time passes by at a rate you aren’t able to fathom. One moment you’re skating circles around Bucky, laughing as his arms jut out to his sides, steadying himself as he sways and wobbles. You flit out of his reach for a beat only for his arms to wrap around your waist, bringing you to his warm front. You squeal as you clutch his arms, the difference in temperature providing a level of comfort that you’ve been craving for months now.

You tilt your head back to rest on his shoulder, his long hair tickling the apples of your cheek. Soft puffs of air hit your face as he peers down at you, his gaze flickering between your eyes and your lips. He remains stoic, only his eyes giving you any indication that he wants more out of your current embrace.

“Attention all Rockin’ Roller Rink patrons, the rink will be closing in ten minutes! Please return all skates and other rentals to the front desk before leaving.”

The voice over the loudspeaker startles you causing you to jump in Bucky’s embrace. He tightens his hold on you, ensuring that you don’t topple over on your wheels. You breathe out a heavy sigh creating a slight distance between you.

“Come on, let’s go.”

Bucky is quick to follow you to the benches on the side to you could change your shoes so you can return the skates. You’re sure to take out your phone from your back pocket before sitting down. Against your better judgement, you swipe across the screen to turn off the silencing option. The screen illuminates and dozens of notifications flood the screen and you cringe. You shouldn’t feel bad, yore only doing what constitutes an open marriage. You sent the text, that was all that was required of you, and let’s be honest even that was more than what John deserves. Bucky leans back, shooting a glance at your now busy phone.

“Wow, he sure doesn’t miss a beat, does he?”

“Yeah, I’m sure everything he’s texted me the past two hours has been entirely supportive and not at all condescending or hostile.” Sarcasm bleeds into your words, making Bucky chuckle under his breath.

“Oh, ol’ Johnny boy? Nah, he’s nothing but a big old softy who knows that he’s only getting it as good as he’s giving it.” You huff at the comment just as your phone begins to buzz on the tabletop.

A groan leaves your mouth, slipping out before you can filter it. Bucky eyes you as your finger swipes the call button to accept. You haven’t even gotten the phone to your ear before John’s voice carries through the speaker, shouting expletives and derogatory remarks about you.

“Are you fucking kidding me? You’re on a fucking date right now? I can’t believe you!”

Your whole body cringes, and you rush to shove your shoes on to take the call outside. You leave without saying a word to Bucky, unable to look him in the eye while the supposed love of your life berates you over the phone.

“John, I don’t know what you’re upset about.” You tried to remain calm while he carried on. “I followed the single rule that you set in place.”

Bucky takes your free hand and leads you to his bike, leaning against the seat while he watches you pace in front of him. Your once smooth features are now ridged and tense, worry lines aging you ten years the second you get on the phone with John. Your forefinger and thumb find home on the bridge of your nose, pinching the bone there to prevent the sudden headache. You finally stop in your tracks, stomping your foot out of exasperation and then steel your voice.

“I refuse to allow you to speak to me this way, John. You’re the one that opened our marriage, I’m simply following the precedent that you set. I honestly have no idea what your issue with this is.” Your eyes dart to Bucky, “Now, I don’t feel comfortable coming home when you’re speaking to me like this over the phone, so don’t wait up. I’ll come home when you cool off.”

Tears begin to rim your lash line as John continues to shout his lungs bloody. You refuse to meet Bucky’s eyes as you lower the phone, thumb hovering over the end call button. A dark metal palm extends your way, a silent ask for the phone that you don’t have the strength to deny. Bucky watches you as he brings the phone to his ear, listening to your husband’s rant.

“This is completely fucking ridiculous! You’re my wife and I demand you come home and we talk this out like adults. You’re being so unreasonable, right now. And the fact that you think it’s acceptable to text me you’re on a date instead of asking if you could go on one? Who the fuck do you think you are? It’s best you remember who you belong to. You’re so in for it whe—“

Bucky laughs, your head shoots up, eyes locking with his for the first time since you’ve evacuated the roller rink. The laugh is a short, sardonic laugh. One you’ve never heard him make before, almost as if he’s using it as a throat clear. Your breath catches in your throat, knowing how John reacts to being challenged in any capacity.

“Now, I don’t know who you think you are, talking to my Peanut the way that you are. But I’ll tell you one thing for damn sure, you aren’t going to be speaking to her that way ever again.”

It’s another thing about Bucky you’ve never experienced. His tone. It’s dull, lifeless, but full threats that made your skin grow cold and your spine stiffen. You knew Bucky would never cause you harm, but those who hurt the people he loved? The same respect isn’t extended.

“And who the fuck is this?”

“I’m the guy.”

He’s eerily calm, the type of calm you’ve never seen him. You’ve been a distant onlooker while he deals with rowdy bar guests, having to throw out drunk customers who reached their limit and then some. But this… this was something else. John is still yelling, sure to be disturbing your neighbors earning you yet another noise complaint, possibly the one that gets you evicted from your apartment.

“What guy?”

“The guy that’s going to rip your spine out through your throat if you threaten my girl again.”

The world stills. The noisy streets of Brooklyn fade as you search Bucky’s eyes for any semblance of a joke. His eyes have darkened, latching onto yours with a depth that you’ve never seen in them. He reaches for you, pulling you in between his legs by your belt loop. You can hear the stammering on the other end clearly, John’s never had anyone stand up to him with such sincerity.

“If you’re done being a pussy, I’m a little preoccupied. If you’d like to continue this conversation, you may do so anytime at my bar. Howling Commandos. You can Google it and me in your free time. Right now, I’m on a date and you’re interrupting it and disturbing my girl.” Bucky’s hand snakes around your waist, pressing his chin to your chest while maintaining eye contact with you. “Now, apologize to her.”

He switches the phone to speaker mode, allowing you to hear the weakness invading John’s voice. All the while, Bucky’s eyes never leave yours. Your body melts into him, his warmth something that you didn’t realize you were craving. John stammers on his end of the phone, eking out excuses as to not apologize. Bucky clears his throat once more, the action causing his Adam’s apple to bob against your breasts.

“Apologize, Johnny boy.”

“I’m sorry, Y/N.”

Three monotonous beeps echo out into the silent parking lot. Wind whips against your cheeks, igniting a shiver through your body. He shoves your phone into his front pocket before wrapping his other hand around your waist. Bucky shifts again, pressing his forehead into your stomach instead of staring up at you. Your arms come up around his shoulders, burying your face into his soft hair.

“Thank you.”

Bucky says nothing in return, squeezing your middle before pulling back to meet your gaze.

“Let’s go, you can stay at mine.”

He pushes against your hips so he can reposition himself over the bike. You’re quick to stop him, remarking something about him just taking you to a hotel for the night. He cuts you off before you can fully finish your sentence.

“I’m sorry Peanut, but you surely don’t think I’m about to let you spend the night at some sketch hotel by yourself. And I’m certainly not going to let you go back to that apartment with that temperamental skeeze of a husband you have.”

“Let me?” You back up, resting your hand on your now cocked hip.

“Peanut.” Bucky stares up at you, “I didn’t mean it in that way. I’m sorry. I’m only saying that I want you to be safe and I don’t feel comfortable leaving you in either of those environments. I would be much for comfortable if you came home with me so that I could protect you.”

You shoulders relax, in the back of your mind, you know that he didn’t mean anything by it. John always sets you on edge, and it’s unfair of you to put those emotions onto Bucky.

“You’re right, I’m sorry. It’s just… John.” Your sentence trails off, no ending really needed because you know that Bucky understands.

“Come on. Get on, Peanut Butter. We aren’t far from my place.”

You mount Bucky’s bike, his left hand immediately going to your thigh, his fingers threading themselves between the rips of your jeans to feel the soft skin of your knee. The ride to Bucky’s apartment is quiet, the rumbling of the motorcycle beneath you is powerful and steady. Every chance he got, Bucky would slip his fingers into the rips of your jeans, aching to be close to you in every way possible. You lean forward, resting your helmeted head against his back while he drives.

If there was one thing that you never would have guessed, it’s that Bucky Barnes would have pale green wallpaper in his apartment. Not just a pale green, he proudly declares that it’s agate green, the color he spent weeks painstakingly debating between that and nurture green. You giggle as you toe your shoes off at the front door, quietly taking in his personal space.

The exposed brick melds with the dark countertops in a way that’s almost soothing. The pendant lights above the island cast a soft glow over the open floor plan. Bucky turns to face you, peeling off his leather jacket and hanging it on a hook beside the door. You catch his eyes, only to be distracted by the wall of bookshelves on the far end of his apartment.

“Oh my god, Bucky I had no idea you were so interested in reading.”

He laughs, shoving his hands in his front pockets while walking behind you as you approach the stacks of books he has scattered throughout his home.

“I’ve always enjoyed reading. When I was deployed there wasn’t much to do other than read. I had my Ma send me all different kinds of books, from new releases to her favorite classics to stuff my little sister was reading in school.” He stands beside you, shoulder to shoulder as you glance up at him. “Guess I never kicked the habit, though there are worse vices that a person could have.”

You hum, refocusing your attention on the books, but only for a second as Bucky reaches his hand out and leads you up the stairs to the lofted bedroom. Bucky’s comforter matches the green walls that sits behind his TV. Not only that, but his pillow cases vary from overly fluffy to soft silks. The mixture of textures and fabrics is almost too much for your brain to comprehend. You’re about to question it when Bucky returns to your line of sight, a dark Henley in one hand and a pair of boxers in the other.

“I don’t have any pajamas for you, but you can wear these.”

He’s almost sheepish as he presents you with the clothes, a light blush casting over his cheeks. It’s so interesting to interact with him. At times, he’s the most suave man you’ve ever met, and at others, it’s like he’s a lovestruck teenager who’s just got their first girlfriend.

You thank him and follow behind him as he leads you to the en-suite bathroom. Just as Bucky begins to explain where everything is, he bends down to the bottom cabinets and retrieves a spare toothbrush.

“Planning for extra company, huh?” You joke while poking him in the side as he stands next to you in the doorway.

Bucky’s tongue peaks out of his mouth, his teeth catching on his bottom lip as he stares down at you. His eyes do that thing again, the same thing he did just before he laid out his feelings for you earlier. Your breath catches in your throat, is he leaning closer? Are you inching toward him? What are you doing?

“Bucky,” the tension breaks, a dam of emotions behind held back by your dedication to your marriage. “I feel like I should explain.”

His hands rest on your shoulders, quick to silence your worries. He leans forward, dotting a quick kiss to your forehead. Bucky lingers, the soft press of his lips shoots warm and fuzzy feelings through your bones.

“Tomorrow. You’ve had a long night. We can talk about everything in the morning.”

A weight of anxiety lifts from your shoulders as you watch Bucky begins descend the stairs, lush blankets and pillows in hand. You turn back to his room, allowing yourself to sink into his private space.

You peel back the duvet and sit on the edge of his mattress, unsure if you should fully dive into his being. If you’re quiet enough you can hear Bucky downstairs, shuffling on the couch in an attempt to find a comfortable position.

Your eyeline floats over his bedside table, the lamp atop it casting a pale yellow glow over the entire room. The surface next to you is covered in items that are unequivocally Bucky—a worn copy of Journey to the Center of the Earth, a leather bound journal, the few gold rings that he something adorns his digits with while bartending. His rings clink against each other as your fingers drift over the cold metal.

Among his assorted objects is your phone on his charger. The light pink case is slightly out of place, but not enough to be obnoxious. You smile to yourself while lying back in his sheets.

You really do owe him an explanation. Bucky deserves more than some broken woman who’s in a shitty marriage. He deserves the world and then some. All you can offer is a somewhat clear thought process.

You think on John’s actions today. He really showed you his true colors. You start to wonder if he really cares about you or if just cares about having a wife. If it’s the second one, why does it have to be you?

You flip to the other side, now facing the back wall of windows. Your mind is about as calm as the city right now. New York is never quiet, even this far out in Brooklyn. You’re never safe from the light pollution that constantly blocks out the beauty that is the natural night sky.

It makes you long for your hometown, the wide open spaces with vast fields of nothingness that stretch for miles on end. Maybe it’s time you pay it a visit. It would be nice to escape the hodge podge of a life you’re currently living.

Squeezing your eyes shut, you force yourself to slow your breathing. Distantly you can hear Bucky begin to snore, a low monotonous sound that you cling to. For the first time in months you feel secure. Your muscles decompress, your brow unfurls and you allow yourself to truly relax.

With everything that’s going on, Bucky deserves more. You deserve more, but that can all wait until tomorrow.

Tomorrow. That’s a good thought.

[jxckchxmpi0n]

Hi there. I was wondering if you could do a Spider-Man Ethan x fem!reader where the reader has feelings for Spider-Man and doesn’t know its her friend Ethan who she also grew up having a crush on. Every night the her and Spider-Man talk and hang out on the roof of her apartment. One of the nights there is so much tension that they end up doing the famous Spider-Man kiss. Feelings on both ends are confessed, but Ethan refuses to fully take off his mask. But then one night Spider-Man is extremely injured and loses a lot of blood. So the reader ends up patching him up and has to remove his mask to reveal that it’s her friend Ethan that she’s always had feelings for. Then it can end spicy from there with whatever you’re comfortable writing.

Thank you 😊

OMG! 🕸🕷 I love this idea - ugh, I'm gonna have so much fun writing this ahhhhhh hope you enjoy love 🌼

Two Hearts

Summary : You have a crush on your best friend Ethan- but growing close with Spiderman, and also sharing those same feelings leaves you confused. A rough night for Spiderman ends up revealing secrets.

||m.list

Word count: 3.0k

Warning: Angst, fluff, swearing, blood, mentions of death, slight NSFW.

I love how much music affects my writing. Listened to "hopeless romantic soft mix" while writing this. Made me kick my feet and giggle!! ALSO, THIS IS THE LONGEST FIC I HAVE WRITTEN ANNNDDD OH MY GOS I AM SO IN LOVE

There was a new superhero in town, and boy did that 'Spiderman' have all the girls' hearts. He sure had yours, but he will never be Ethan- Ethan was your best friend. He has been by your side since you could remember.

Any person that would see you together thought you were dating, but you weren't. The thought of telling Ethan you liked him - oh boy. That would be the last thing you would do. HE GIVES YOU BUTTERFLIES!!! he makes your stomach turn, and those chocolate brown eyes always make you want to grab his face and smother him in kisses.

Your little daydreams got carried away sometimes, staring off into space when you hang out with him. "y/n, you there?" Shaking the thoughts away, you nod. He then just continues on about science.

But this Spiderman, saving people, helping the elder, oh what a dream he seemed very sweet and always helped no matter how minor the "crime" was.

Not knowing who he was drove New York crazy the secret identity was smart and cool, but it really started to pick up in the school halls.

How old was he?

Was 'he' he or 'she'?

How did they become super?

You were always talking about the latest crime fight Spiderman had done, digging into conspiracies, which always made Ethan laugh.

Lately, you haven't been able to hang out with Ethan as much as he signed up for active work at the police station with his dad. Most nights, he would be busy with his dad doing simple desk work and / or join him in a ride along. So, being on your own was the new daily.

It started a few weeks ago. Slowly, you noticed webs around your neighborhood buildings. 'Maybe Spiderman came through.' he was always around this part of town, so it made sense.

As the school days died down and the city got louder at night, you would relax on the rooftop of your apartment. Being so high in the sky, being able to see over it, was refreshing. Turning your music off, you'd listen to the sounds around you as your mind filled with thoughts. Homework would also fill the gap.

It wasn't until the second week of being on the rooftop that something wild happened. As you sat playing music going over your English notes, right across the street, Spiderman stood watching you. He didn't want to seem like a creep - well, standing in a head-to-toe body suit watching from a rooftop seemed weird, but he kept it lowkey.

He liked seeing you in such peace, sitting looking down at the people who roamed the streets, or how you would lay on your back looking at the sky. You were so beautiful in his eyes. He was so drawn to you, he couldn't just stay away.

Before he realized what he was doing, his arm straightened out activating his webs. Putting his full body weight in the web, he swung over he landed on the opposite side of the roof near you. Why was he so nervous, you don't know who he is! What if this ends up bad! wait, you don't know who he is! this is perfect.

"Why do you sit up here?" he spoke before he could process. The sudden voice made you jump and yelp a little. Looking around, you saw him. He stood a few feet away from you.

'Spiderman, oh my gosh, it's Spiderman,' you thought, your mind racing with so many questions. 'Why is he up here?' 'is this fake' ?Did I fall asleep again?'

"What? are- this- I- Are you really here?" he couldn't help but laugh at your comment and walked closer. He could feel his heartbeat in his ears.

"Well, duh," he tried to sound smooth, but his voice ended up cracking while he sat in front of you. You laughed as he tried to buff up his look.

"So? Why are you sitting up here?" he tilted his head to the side in a questioning way. The spider eyes on the mask opening and closing softly.

"It's peaceful up here, I get to see the city, and no one else comes up here so it's like the perfect place to escape for a little" your heart ached, you wished Ethan wasn't always so busy so you could take him up here.

He hummed, satisfied with your answer. 'How was he just so calm sitting here with me, like this is normal?'

"I'm sorry, as much as I think this is cool - uh, what are you doing here? Don't you have some crime to fight?" You threw some fake punches his way, laughing to ease your awkwardness.

"I mean, yeah, but it's a slow day, and I just saw you hanging out here. I've actually seen you here a lot the past few weeks, so you know, I just thought I'd see what you do. " he was blushing so hard under the mask, and his body was warm. 'Don't sound like a perv!'

"Do you do this a lot? spy on people?" Your voice is playful and light.

"Me? Well, psh No, I-I haven't done this before. Is it weird - oh, did I make you uncomfortable?!" As he spoke, his voice started to hold some panic.

"What - no, you didn't- NO this is cool! It's cool. I swear, I mean, you're Spiderman, like how wouldn't this be cool."

He felt a little better knowing it didn't make you uncomfortable. Hours had passed, and you talked about what it's like to fight crime and how he got his powers.

This soon became a regular occurrence. Every other night, he would show up and tell you the star crime of the day. You would bring extra drinks and food and give some to him. He would always turn around, or you would close your eyes when he ate/drank.

The feelings you had for him grew into an actual crush, now that you knew him - somewhat you felt like you could trust him.

After a few months, things started to change. He would tease you as you would do the same. Playful touching, whispering as he was inches away from your face. He grew so comfortable around you that he would sit shoulder to shoulder with you.

The smell of his calonge would fill your nose, a sense of familiar came to mind. The tension between you two could be cut by a knife, long shared glances, his body pressed into yours when he would give you his web shooters and show how to use them.

"Would you ever feel comfortable enough to take your mask off?" You sat on the edge of the rooftop with him right next to you, your hands resting near one another. The city lights shined on your face as he looked at you, a soft blush rose to your cheeks.

"Uh, maybe. I'm just scared. " he looked away, not wanting to face you.

"You don't have to be scared," you hand reached for his face, pulling it to face you. Even if you can't see his eyes, you knew they were looking right back at you. "You have my trust, and I promise not to break it," your voice was stern, yet like butter to his ears. His gloved hand went to yours, holding it closer to his face, leaning into your touch, the warmth of your hand seeping into his suit.

"It's getting pretty late; I should get going." Your hand fell from his face, and he nodded. "I'll see you tomorrow?" You were already walking towards the door with your bag over your shoulder.

"Yeah, of course!" he smiled under the mask matching the one you wore. Turning around, you could hear the web shooters, meaning he was leaving, but to your surprise, he hung over the door by his web. Looking up, your eyes followed it to the billboard.

"Only a little." He couldn't trust his own voice. He was nervous. 'Did she understand?'

The sound of cars honking and people shouting started to drown out as you stepped closer. 'Was he sure about this?' Your hands got closer to his neck, finding the edge of the mask. "Are you sure?" concerned you asking, pressured him.

"Yes, please." it almost sounded like a whine.

Pulling the mask over his chin past his lips; you stopped right before his nose. Your heart was beating very fast, feeling it in your throat, the butterflies in your stomach, it was driving you insane.

You could see he was blushing, some moles on his face near his lips. His lips, they looked so soft, and your hands held both sides of his face like he was going to get away. Your right hand let go though, reaching to trace his lips; they were soft, but also chapped. Both of your breaths were picking up.

"Please y/n," His voice whining again.

Pulling you out of your trance, you leaned in, "You're so beautiful."

Your lips clashed with his, inhaling his scent. This was heaven. The kiss was rough, the tension finally catching up. Teeth brushing each other sightly, you could feel his head pushing into yours. He wanted more, and so did you. Your lungs were burning gasping for air, but you didn't want to pull away, no, not yet. 'What if this is the only time I can kiss him, feel him?'

He was the first to pull away gasping for air. He just kissed you after wanting to for so long. "I'd like to do that again sometime." he was smiling so wide, being able to see it made your heart do flips.

"You know where to find me." Leaning in again, you kissed his cheek.

Taking the edge of the mask again, you pulled it back down towards his neck and tucking it in. "I'll see you tomorrow." Your hands dropped from his face, and you walked past him into the door.

Hours have passed, sitting on your bed acting like a little schoolgirl, giggling and kicking your feet. Who wouldn't you just kissed spiderman!

Looking at the clock, it was near one am. Sleep was catching up. So, you started your normal night routine. Finding some old extra oversized t-shirt, you slipped it on, and it landed on your mid-thigh barley coving much. You had shorts on but night shorts that were very short.

As you were done in the bathroom, you walked back into your room and felt a cold breeze. Looking around, you saw your window was open. An overwhelming feeling flooded your body as you knew you had closed it earlier. Getting closer, you hear a noise out of the darkness. Spiderman sat up, holding his side. He didn't look good.

"Help me," his body collapsed halfway in your window. your heart sunk at seeing him like this. Running to him, you grabbed him the best you could and pulled him in.

"What did you get yourself into, bug boy?" he sat against your wall, one arm trying to hold himself up and the other holding his abdomen.

"It's not that bad, I-" he removed his hand to show you the deep cut. it ran from lower chest to the middle of his stomach, "Okay, maybe it's a little bad." Every word was broken up by him groaning or wheezing.

"I'll be back." Running out of your room, you grabbed the first aid kit in the hallway. "I don't have much, so we have to make this work."

Before you started to clean the cut, you looked at his face. The mask was beat up pretty bad. He had a tear in it, running from his ear to chin. After tonight, you don't think this suit would survive.

"Can you move?" Your voice was low. The last thing you need is your parents finding Spiderman in your room.

"I'll try," he tried to push himself up, his head spinning. Standing with him, you saw him stumble, catching him. You guided him to your bed. As soon as he sat down, the pain was too much to bear. His body went limp.

"Hey! bug boy! hey, can you hear me?" You sat next to him, patting his face over and over and hoping to wake him up. His eyes would open and close after a few seconds, "You got to stay with me!"

"I'm tired." he was barely auditable.

As you looked at him, an idea came to your mind, "I'm sorry," putting a hand over his mouth and taking your other hand, you pressed down on the cut. He yelled into your hand in pain, his eyes tearing up under the mask. 'fuck'

The most you could do right now is clean the wounds and patch him up. He was awake but laid there quietly. You were so focused on making sure the wounds were thoroughly cleaned that you didn't realize one of his hands laid on your thigh, gripping it every time you wiped the cuts.

"You're okay." You tried your best to comfort him, and not much could be said though truthfully.

Once you checked over his entire body for more wounds, you moved up to his face. the mask was resting weirdly, "I finished everything else, but if you don't want me to clean -" As you spoke, his hand that wasn't on your thigh reached for the mask ripping it off.

Your jaw dropped.

ETHAN FUCKING LANDRY.

YOUR BEST FRIEND.

"I-" before he could fully speak, you flung your body into his. He winced out in pain as he felt you on him, yet he felt better.

Your eyes were watering at this point, seeing Spiderman - no seeing Ethan like this ripped your heart apart. "I had my theories- but fuck bug boy why?!" you pulled away making eye contact. He could see the tear stains running down your rosy cheeks.

"Don't cry pretty, girl, please don't cry. I'm okay - kind of, " he chuckled, hoping it helped ease the tension. His hand cupped your face, his finger halfway in your hair, his thumb resting on your cheek moving side to side wiping the tears.

"You're an idiot you know that?" You hit his shoulder, pushing him back a little. He made a face like it hurt but only smiled. Looking at you through his lashes, blood sprayed on his face, scars you haven't seen before. His eyes softened as he saw your face red and stained, crying, pouting.

"I'm hoping to be your idiot though." his thumb still ran across your cheek, slowly moving down to trace your lips. He hasn't stopped thinking about kissing you. Even when he was dying, the need for you was strong.

He was just looking at your lips at this point. He looked at you like he was starving. The hunger for you grew stronger after that kiss. Noticing the change in how he looked at you, a laugh escaped you. "For almost dying, you sure are a teenage boy with your thoughts"

Your voice pulled him back, snapping his eyes up to yours he smiled. "That obvious?" Your hand had gone to his wrist rubbing circles into his skin as he did the same to your face.

Your head went forward, forehead to forehead. A sweet little moment between you two. "Don't die. I know what you do is dangerous, but I don't think I can handle seeing you crawl into my room like this again." he nodded his head, yours moving with his.

You felt far away from him too far, using what strength he had left he pulled you into his lap, straddling him, your breath hitched.

"I won't, I promise." his hand left your thigh holding out his pinky. It was cheeky, yes, but he would.

Both of your breaths were heavy, and the tension in the room was filled again. It's like he knew because he would lean in to ghost over your lips, yet pull away. 'asshole'

"Kiss me already," your voice was laced with annoyance.

Pulling you in from the back of your head, your lips crashed together, and it felt different. This kiss was hungry. It was needy. His hands went over the curves of your body, trailing under the t-shirt, gripping the back of your back, pulling you towards him if possible.

Your hands were tangled in his hair, the curls all broken apart, pulling it softly, earning a moan from him.

Your body was thinking faster than your mind, rocking back and forth on him. The feeling of his body tensing, pulling away to kiss your jaw, then your neck. Your head fell back, giving him more access. His lips were soft against your skin, his teeth grazing your skin as he left love bites, both of you, a moaning mess.

"Ethan" moaning out his name was something you both dreamed of "we- shouldn't- not- not now-" your words kept getting broken up from the feeling of him sucking your neck, and how his hands gripped your hips moving you more.

"Why?" he voice was muffled from being in your neck. He knew it wasn't the right time since he was so beaten up. His hands loosed up on your hips, and a whine could be heard from you. That didn't stop him from peppering your neck and face with kisses thought.

"Fine. We'll stop, but next time, I won't quit as easily. " he pulled his face out of your neck so he could look at you. Your face was red, with a smirk on it.

"Let's just lay here then," you crawled off of his lap. You laid down, following you, and he pulled you so close that you were basically on top of him again.

"I'm fine with that." he looked down, kissing the top of your head before sleep took over his body.

[the-floral-perspective]

Iconic Creepypasta Duos

(All Platonic)

Toby and Jane!

Ultimate best friends, like everyone in the mansion knows they’re besties.

Toby originally was drawn to Jane because she reminded him of his sister, but slowly him and Jane worked through his idea of her. After that, Tony realized that Jane would always be there for him, so he wanted to support her too.

Through Toby, Jane is allowed to be weird and unleash her inner monologue without judgement, which is why she appreciates him so much. He’s a girls guy 100%

Around the mansion, you almost never see them apart. They both also aren’t the biggest fans of Jeff, though they’re pretty close with Liu.

Ben and EJ!

These two are consistently getting caught in random shenanigans. Both of them being naturally curious and knowledge hungry, it’s pretty easy for them to lurk around. They’re like shadow best friends or gossip friends.

They see all the shit around the mansion and don’t hesitate to spread it around. Tbh these two are the Regina Georges of the mansion.

Jack is the smarter one when going into one of their curiosity missions, but he’s still stupid when it comes to blowing his cover. Ben is the one who insinuates their missions, like why has Slenderman been leaving the house lately? They found out Slendy Wendy had brothers.

Jeff and LJ!

Most sadistic mfers, they prank an ungodly amount. Both are loud and comedic, Jeff is more extreme though. These two can NOT go on a mission together because they will fail.

The person they prank the most would be Ben probably. Ben is easy to persuade into doing dumb shit so he’s kind of their TV.

You will find Jeff stacking donuts on Jacks nose for funzies. They are consistently doing dumb stuff, it’s funny, but they kind of act like those guys in your math class.

Nurse Ann and Bloody Painter!

Ann and Helen are a lot closer then the rest of the pastas think. Both being introverted, when they hang it’s mostly in their rooms or the medical hall. Since they aren’t as crazy or loud, they’re often overlooked.

Neither mind though, both of them get pretty funny when they’re alone. Most of what they do is watch dumb shit or cartoons. (Both avid fans of SpongeBob)

You will find these two doing really weird shit if they think no one is looking. They will actively make you feel left out two with the amount of inside jokes they have.

Hoodie and Liu!

These two are also really quiet, not really close friends but they’re on missions together a lot. They share a similar music taste and often give each other playlists to listen to.

Even though they’re work partners, they talk occasionally outside of their missions. Liu is naturally hella funny and Hoodie is a giggler.

Neither of them are extremely close, but they’re getting there.

Jason the Toymaker and EJ!

Jason is always getting hurt, this bitch is clumsy asf. Over this EJ and Jason started becoming friends. At some point at the mansion, you’ll notice Jack hitting Jason over the head with a thick book because Jason’s a little bit of a Himbo.

Think of Jason as Blackstar from Soul eater and Jack is Death the kid. Jason causes almost too much havoc for Jack, but they still bond regardless. Even if Jack is beating the shit out of Jason.

They aren’t as close as Ben and Jack, but they’re still good friends.

Sally and Judge Angels!

I don’t know much about Judge Angels, but I feel like she’d take a quick liking to Sally. Sally is a sassy mf and Dina returns that energy, which is prob why Sally likes her so much.

Most the Pastas are scared of returning sass to sally since she has the most power in the house, but Dina doesn’t. Dina and Sally together are like balls of fire.

Both of them actively pull pranks and blame it on Jeff and LJ. Then they’ll prank them themselves. The 4 of them have a cute little prank war going on.

Jane and Clockwork!

Jane is everyone’s best friend, she generally gets along and likes most the people in the mansion. When Clockwork came along tho, they just hit it off immediately!

Both of their crude humor just bounced perfectly off each other. You can always find them giggling about some weird shit. Think of their relationship like Brittney and Trixie’s on YouTube.

They have talked about starting a podcast before, they’re literally like sisters.

Candypop and Slenderman!

Candypop is very… personal. I mean he gets close. He’s also the same height as Slenderman. Candypop has an obsession with bothering those who are reserved, he’s weird with everyone. He’s always taking people out of their shells.

Still, him and Slenderman are essentially the ultimate duo. Candypop gets along well with his brothers too. Seriously, most the time Candypop is talking Slenders (nonexistent) ears off.

It’s so often to see Candypop following around Slenderman that the other pastas started harassing both of them. Slender pays no mind to this.

Candypop and Puppeteer!

Another case of the Candypop disease puppeteer was blessed with. The menace. Honestly though, these two are best friends and they find enjoyment on missions together. Whenever Candypop isn’t up Slendermans ass, he’s up puppeteers. Seriously Candypop is a menace.

Since they’re some of the only creepypastas that kill outside of their assignments, typically they go on sprees together in their free time.

You may never see them together but you can always hear them laughing together. (Seriously, they’re always laughing and it’s a little scary because imagine it’s 3AM and you hear 2 grown men giggling?) (it’s kind of hot tho ngl)

[hangmanssunnies]

Helping Hands

Summary: Phoenix has had a long day. She knows the only thing that will make her feel better is coming home to you and getting a little help to unwind.

Pairings: Natasha "Phoenix" Trace x Reader

Word count: 5k

AO3 LINK

Warnings: 18+ only, possessiveness, PWP, Slightly Sub Phoenix, Guided Masturbation, Grinding, WLW.

Authors Note: I am simply a bisexual who would love to worship this woman. Thank you so much if you take a chance to read this work. I hope you enjoy it. My inbox is always open if you want to let me know your thoughts. Reblogs with your thoughts, opinions, and tags are gold to me. I love reading through them.

It had been a really long day, and Phoenix was exhausted. She felt like she was hardly holding it together. She was stressed and had even snapped at her poor backseater. Her words were so harsh Bob had quietly excused himself from her side, crossed the room, and squarely seated himself right next to Coyote. Bob turned slightly into the broad pilot as if to hide himself. Then because obviously, Phoenix had needed something to make her feel worse or make her even angrier, Hangman had sat himself down on the other side of her WSO, blocking him from her view and throwing an arm over the other man's shoulder. 

As if any other pilot had a right to touch what was hers. No one else knew what it meant to have Bob's life in their hands every day. Someone she thought of and was concerned with over herself. Bob was HERS to take care of, HERS to linger near and comfort. The line of thought was only finally interrupted when she dug her nails into her palms, using the stinging pain to clear her head. 

Phoenix had thought a distraction might help, but when she turned to find Rooster, he was talking to Payback. He had been doing that a lot lately, talking to Payback. They had even been hanging out on the weekends. And even though Phoenix knew it was ridiculous to be jealous of Bradshaw having other friends, she was. Rooster was HER best friend. Phoenix was on his emergency contact list. She had spent the last ten years making sure he had birthday and Christmas presents, not Fitch. She glared at Payback until he finally got a hint to leave. The moment that the space next to Rooster emptied, she occupied it. 

Bradshaw was familiar. He could provide her with easy comfort just by being near. As she thought she might finally have some reprieve for the first time all day, a chance to let down her guard, Rooster opened his stupid mustached mouth with the audacity to ask her if she was okay. Phoenix was always okay; she was the best damn pilot here. She didn't even bother to grace him with an answer. The only reason she didn't move seats again was because Payback might try to reclaim this one, which at the moment was the only thing worse in her mind than the sad confused look Bradley was giving her. 

By the time the day was finally over, she was so close to snapping, wound as taut as a bow. Even as she drove home, Phoenix was white-knuckling the steering wheel, trying to keep it together. Her only comfort was knowing what was waiting for her at home. The knowledge that she would finally be able to unwind with you. 

The house smelled clean when she got home, and the soft light of candles and some lamps greeted her. She felt instant gratification stepping inside. The strain in her eyes relaxed for the first time since she woke up. After shucking off her shoes, she was moving further into the apartment, looking for you like a moth drawn to a flame. 

You were humming, listening to some soft music in the kitchen, and Natasha didn't waste a moment to come up behind you and wrap her arms around your middle. Nuzzling her face into your back, she took a shaky shuddering breath. It only took a moment before you turn and wrap your arms around Natasha, holding her close. 

Nat would spend all day step in step with the men around her. Yes, she was in a male-dominated profession, and she had to work twice as hard and prove twice as much as any of those fuckers. She never backed down an inch and always gave just as good as she got. However, being able to come home to you, having somewhere she could shed off that mask, was precious to her. It was a balm to her soul being held in your arms, letting her be as small and delicate as she wanted. 

When you pull her hair out of her bun, she has to stop the whiny moan that almost falls from her lips. The relief of her scalp is enhanced when one of your hands tangles in her hair, gently scratching at the roots. 

"Hi Tash," you say gently. Her hold on your hips tightens in response, and she shoves her face into your neck, placing a small kiss there. It only takes you a moment to pick up on her mood, and you ask, "What's wrong, baby?" 

Natasha doesn't respond. Instead, she just whines and lightly bites your neck, peppering the spot with another small kiss. As she tries to dip lower to the neckline of your blouse, you stop her catching her chin and tilting her face to make her meet your eyes. 

"Baby," You say again as your eyes roam her face. Natasha is momentarily distracted by how beautiful you are. Your eyes, your lips, the shape of your nose, it's too much, and the need to kiss you feels a bit overwhelming as you ask, "Did you have a bad day?" 

Natasha nods a little pathetically before giving in to her wants, and she leans forward to catch your lips. She does not waste a moment. As soon as your mouth opens for her, she is greedily slipping in her tongue to taste you. Drawing the kiss out for as long as her lungs will allow, only giving up her efforts when you pull away from her. The loss makes Natasha feel like nearly crying, even as she pants, trying to recover her breath. However, it is enough to reassure her when you diligently start unbuttoning her shirt. 

"Tell me about it?" You request as you slowly work the buttons open. 

"People were touching my stuff all day. My normal parking spot was taken, and I didn't get to sit where I like to sit for this morning's briefing. Hangman put his grubby hands all over Bob. My WSO, my responsibility, my friend! And Rooster stole half my lunch. Now he is going to replace me with Payback, who was my friend first."

"Oh, Tash," you sigh sympathetically to her woes. "No one is replacing you, let alone Rooster."

"How do you know?" She whispers.

"Because you are wonderful, funny, smart, and irreplaceable. Also, because he texted me asking if you were okay and wants to come over and hang out this weekend." 

"I don't want to hang out with him. He annoys me. He's just going to come over here and eat all my food and touch all my stuff."  

"None of that's new, and you've always loved him anyway. Plus, he always steals half your lunch. That's why I pack extra," you remind her gently. When her shirt is unbuttoned, you start playing with the dog tags that are hanging off her neck, pulling them from her undershirt. 

"Well, I didn't want to share," Natasha says, and she feels moments away from stamping her foot. 

"Were you just extra hungry today?"

"No, but that doesn't mean other people can just take what's mine." 

"I'm sorry people were touching your stuff. Can I help?" You ask tenderly. Natasha sometimes wonders why you bother asking when you already know what she wants. Maybe you just like to hear it from her. 

"I want to feel good," Natasha whispers. 

"You want to be my good little angel?" You ask her, and the sweet name makes her stomach flip. Just thinking about being good for you causes warmth to seep under her skin.  

"I do," she confirms breathily. 

"Good girl, Tash. Now can you get out the rest of this khaki by yourself?" 

Natasha nods in affirmation, turning away from you to go to the bedroom. However, your hand catches her wrist, stopping her before she is gone. Her breath catches as you press her back into the free wall. Holding your gaze steadily as she can, Natasha's eyes keep falling back to your lips, though. It's clearly not lost on you as she watches your lips quirk up. 

"Did I forget something?" Natasha worries.

"You're only going to touch what's yours tonight, Angel. Since you don't feel like sharing." 

"No," Natasha whimpers, wondering how you could be so mean to her after all she went through today.

"Real no Natasha? Or are you just being my whiny angel?" You ask seriously. 

"Just whiny, I'm sorry." She admits to you. You chuckle and shake your head at her. 

"You're wasting time," you have to remind her after Natasha starts staring at you again. The reminder gets her moving toward the bedroom. 

Once there, she strips her clothes, throws them in the hamper, and considers her options. She likes to feel pretty sometimes, strip off her sensible undergarments and wear something that is delicate lace with little to no support. Having no reason other than for your viewing pleasure to wear the items. As much as Natasha wanted to feel pretty tonight, she would rather feel comfy, so she finally settled on pulling out a pair of soft green boyshort style lacy panties. She forgoes a bra altogether and instead grabs one of your sleep shirts that was freshly washed but somehow still smelled like you. 

After a quick rinse off in the shower and putting on some lotion, Natasha changes into what she picked out. Finally, she lays herself out on the bed for you trying to look as enticing as possible. Laying on her stomach so you will have the perfect view of her ass when you open the door. She hides her giddy smile in her hands, picturing your reaction. She isn't disappointed. 

The sharp inhale of your breath when you open the door alerts her, and Phoenix props up on her elbow, half turning to look at you. Your lustful look has Natasha ginning and not even bothering to hide it before biting her lower lip. 

"You are an absolute vision." 

"Thank you," Natasha says, sitting up and turning so she is sitting on her calves. She parts her lips, waiting for you to come kiss her. However, your breath only teases her lips, and while you are close, you still don't kiss her. After waiting, she frowns and blinks at you in confusion.

"Angel, who's shirt is that?" You ask her in a measured, curious way. 

"Yours," she says after a second of consideration. 

Your hand lightly wraps around her neck at the answer, and staring into her eyes, you remind her, "Didn't I say you're only allowed to touch what's yours?" 

"It was an accident." 

"Okay, well, that was your reminder. Take off the shirt, Angel." You say but still haven't let go of her neck. Natasha frowns at you and furrows her brow in consideration. After a moment, she has a plan and gives you an innocent smile. 

She slowly moves like she is going to take off the shirt. As she does, you release her neck and lean back to watch. Once she is free, Natasha relowers the shirt and tugs it as low as it will go so it strains against her shoulders. Smirking tauntingly up at you, she says, "I like this. I don't want to take it off." 

"I'll make you," you warn her. She wants that, though, so she just grins and shrugs. 

As you climb on the bed, Natasha is already scrambling away. However, you catch her ankle before she can get too far. This leads to a playful wrestle that ends with Natasha giggling, laying on her back, and you have caged her down with your knees on either side of her narrow hips. 

She tries to wiggle away, but you hold her in place as you tug the shirt up over her head and arms before tossing it away. She reaches out to try and touch you, but you grab her wrists holding them together instead. It's a tight hold but not a cruel one with the soft kiss you place on the back of each palm. 

"I know you had a hard day today and that people were touching things they shouldn't. All this pent-up stress isn't good for you, Angel. I'm going to help you feel better."

"I don't need help," Natasha snaps before she can think better, still feeling bratty. 

She watches your face process her words. When you do, you release her wrists, letting them fall limply on the bed. After you ease yourself off of her. You take a moment to fold the shirt thrown aside in the playful tussle. Then you are pulling off your own clothes and head to the bathroom, not even paying Natasha another glance. Confused, she has to call your name twice before you give her attention again. 

"Yes, Angel?" You ask, and Natasha is immediately reassured at hearing that name from you. She knew it was okay and that this was all still play. 

"Where are you going?" 

"I'm just getting ready for bed. You said you don't need my help. So go ahead, get yourself off so we can cuddle and go to sleep." 

She doesn't like your answer and feels almost as if it's a trick. Not wanting to doubt it too much, she slips her fingers over her clit, giving it harsh strokes. The stimulation makes her feel aroused but nothing close to satisfied. 

She tries for a few more minutes and then a few more after she notices you watching her from the doorway of the ensuite bathroom. You are wearing the shirt you pulled off of her as if it was the spoil of war, with nothing but your own panties on. Natasha slows to nearly a stop as she appreciates the curves and shape of your body. 

When you realize her appreciation, you freeze for a moment and look away almost shyly, avoiding direct eye contact with her. The moment leaves Natasha stunned. She feels some of the stubbornness in her ease away. She likes knowing she has an effect on you, likes knowing that you enjoy how much she wants you. 

You recover from Natasha's appreciation, but the pleased glow about you hasn't disappeared. Casually you ask while approaching the bed, "Are you close, Angel?"

"No, I'm not." She says, pulling her hands out of her panties in frustration, ready to give up. She knows her efforts are futile, and she might as well stop wasting her time. You catch her wrist and slowly suck her fingers clean. Natasha's breath catches at the sight, and she feels her own mouth drop open. Releasing her wrist, it falls limply to the bed, and she whispers, "I need help."

Your eyes are loving and sympathetic as you sigh affectionately, pushing back a strand of hair that had fallen onto her face. "My Angel needs a navigator, doesn't she? Don't worry, tonight with this at least, I can be your guidance system. Do you want that? Me in control telling you exactly what to do?"

Nodding along enthusiastically, Natasha lets go of the reins on her emotions she had been holding in so tightly all day. She didn't have to be in control right now. She knew she could give this orgasm to you, that it was your pleasure and responsibility to take care of. She didn't have to worry or think; all she had to do was feel and listen. So she says, "Yes, I want that."

"That's good," you say, opening the chest where y'all keep the toys. "Now, sit up and make some room, Angel." 

Coming back with two of Natasha's favorite toys, a womanizer and a silicone purple vibrator. You set them to the side, but even the sight of them feels exciting for her. You settle against the pillows and headboard behind Natasha and trail your fingers along her shoulders. Once she adjusts to your touch, you suddenly start playing with her hair. Natasha eases back against you. How soft you feel behind her and the slight press of your nipples on her back has her sighing in happiness. 

"Comfy?" you ask her, your breath tickling her ear you're so close. It sends shivers down her body, and she nods. And then you tell her, "Touch your tits, Angel."

Tracing her fingers up her own sides, Natasha shivers at the sensation. She immediately goes to roll her hardened nipples, and the moment her fingers touch them, your teeth bite at the back of her neck. The bite isn't too hard but so surprising that she yelps.  

"I didn't say to touch there." You say in her ear. Whimpering, she is eager to follow your whispered instructions to softly caress all of the skin before finally being allowed to touch her hardened buds. Natasha's skin is so soft under her own fingers. It only ever feels this soft and supple when she is home with you. At home, Phoenix has her pick of the many lotions and oils you've gotten her. The way you take care to rub it on for the nights she is too tired to do it herself also gives a consistency she can't maintain away from you. 

Her fingers have always had calluses from the years of nightly dedication to her viola, then a whole different set she got rowing. Even now, years later, when she doesn't do either activity as often, the marks persist. As they tease her nipples and drag across her skin, she finally can appreciate the marks and the extra sensation they bring to her. 

"Pinch them harder," you breathe. Natasha instantly follows the command and squeezes harder, alternating between the sides as she does. Biting back a whimper, she pulls as well, adding to the sensation. 

"That's perfect. You're doing so well." She can't fully hold back the sound she makes, and she feels you chuckle behind her. "It's okay. You can be as loud as you want. I want you to make noise and show me how good you feel." 

"More please," she sighs.

"Okay, let's go back to soft touches now." She complies and starts just softly cupping her pert breasts. They have started to flush from stimulation, and she can't help but think your hands would look so much better than hers. The thought is interrupted by your next instruction. "Use a hand to touch over your panties. You picked such a pretty pair for me. This color of green makes you glow, even when it's as stained as it is right now." 

Wondering how you know, Natasha opens her eyes and looks around. Looking to the left, she suddenly catches eyes with you in the mirror on the vanity in the corner. The mirror is not really for this purpose, normally lined up straight and flush with the wall. However, you had tilted it without her notice, and paired with the way you positioned her on the bed, you have managed to put Natasha on full display. Her legs have already fallen open, and she sees that you're right. The green has started to darken from her wetness. When you see that you have been caught staring at her, you softly kiss her neck. She can't help but whine and arch her neck, allowing you more access to kiss and suck. 

"That feel good?" You ask her. 

"So good," she whines when you bite, not hard enough to mark her but enough for her to feel it.

"That's right. I know what you like. So, touch that pretty pussy for me, Tash." She is more turned on than she has been all night. She slips her fingers under her panties and pushes past her clit to circle a finger around her entrance. 

"What finger are you using?" You ask. 

"My middle, just touching and teasing," Natasha describes while making another slow press at the shape of her hole but not pressing her finger in. "I'm so wet and hot." 

"Take those off and give them to me," you order her. Wiggling and lifting her hips, Natasha manages to free herself of the item. Handing them to you, she more consciously turns her body towards the mirror, so you can really see her. She lets her knees fall wide open and arches to fully show off. The moan it draws from you feels like a reward, and the sound that you make sniffing the underwear before tossing it towards the laundry is enough that she nearly has to clench her thighs in need. 

"Look how swollen and puffy you are, and you haven't even touched the toys." You groan with a hum in your chest. "We don't even need any toys, do we? Here I thought you were going to be difficult and stubborn for me, but all it takes is some encouragement, and you are already needy. Put a finger in now."

Natasha brings that same finger back and starts easing it into herself with a gentle hiss. It's not difficult and doesn't hurt, but there is always something about the initial intrusion in her body. Once it's fully inside her, she leaves it, only starting to slowly stroke her inner walls when you tell her to. The action warms her after a minute or so, and she feels herself getting wetter as the ache in her core increases. 

Lifting the vibrator, you put it to Natasha's lips. She sucks into her mouth without hesitation, running her tongue around the toy and letting it muffle her groans as she adds a second finger at your command. When you pull the vibrator away from her mouth, a trail of spit connects her with the dark purple silicone. The whispered "fuck" you release makes up for the loss of having her mouth filled. 

The toy disappears from her sight, but she hears you opening a bottle of lube. Part of Natasha thinks that it's a bit unnecessary. She is sufficiently wet now, her slickness audible as her fingers move in her. It's a muffled sound as you turn on the vibrator and hold it in front of her to take. You had set it to the lowest setting, and while Nat wants to complain, she doesn't. 

"Inside please, Angel," you tell her sweetly before letting it go. Natasha replaces her fingers with the vibrator. A tingle spreads through her core as the low vibration echoes through her. Her breathing starts to come out in softer pants, and with the toy seated fully, she starts to subtly rock her hips against it. 

"Fuck, listen to how wet and needy you are. I can hear it over the vibrator. Rub your clit, Angel. Use that same wet middle finger to tease yourself." Natasha likes how turned on you sound while telling her what to do. 

"I'm so wet, all for you," she moans, pulling the vibrator out a little and fucking it back into herself slowly. Her finger dances over her clit, but not applying any real pressure. She is mostly just dragging from the wet seeping out of her hole up around the sensitive bundle of nerves and back down again. 

"Good girl, you can turn up the vibrator now." In her rush to do as you say, she accidentally presses the buttons wrong. The toy shoots to a high setting, and she lets out a high-pitched groan. Natasha leaves it, deciding to wait out the adjustment with whimpered whines and circles on her clit. You give her encouragement while she does, kissing her neck and muttering dirty praise into her skin. The tickle of your breath on her neck has Natasha's skin starting to feel tighter and tighter, her arousal burning nearly too hot. 

"Rub your clit harder." 

"Please, I want to cum. Need to cum," Natasha begs, using her pointer finger as well as her middle to stimulate the pearl. Her earlier ministrations have made it so slick that there is no resistance to her movements. However, it's nearly too wet as her fingers can touch but never hard enough before they slip again. 

"You're so fucking hot when you touch yourself. I've never seen anything prettier than your wet pussy. Except maybe your tits. And your nipples, they drive me insane, Tash. I think about sucking them all day. Someday I want to make you cum just from playing with them." Natasha moans at the idea and clenches around the vibrator pressing it tighter against her G spot. "You like that idea, don't you, Angel? Well, maybe next time we play. Now be good and keep touching yourself."

"I want that now, please. I can't. I can't do it." Natasha cries to you desperately. You shush her quietly and actually touch her for the first time in a while. It's not overly sexual but incredibly intimate as you soothingly rub down her arm and back up again. 

"Yes, you can. You can have it whenever you're ready. There is no rush, Angel. Don't think about it too hard. It'll happen. You know it will. I'm right here."

Closing her eyes again, Natasha tries to just enjoy the sensations coursing through her, the way the vibrator pulses, and picking another harsh rhythm to work her clit to; however, none of it is enough. It's just bubbling hot at a simmer, but not enough for her to reach the eruption she needs. 

"Wait, I just remembered something," Phoenix gasps. 

"What did you remember?"

"You said I can only touch what's mine," she reminds you. 

"That's right."

"And you're mine, aren't you?" Natasha asks. It's a moment where an unexpected insecurity creeps in, and she doesn't really know why she suddenly feels so small. 

"Oh, Natasha. I'm yours and only yours." You tell her. Natasha can't stop the smile that lifts her lips. She pulls the vibrator out with a pitchy sigh and turns it off in the process. She sits up then, not caring about how much she is surely dripping on the sheets, as she turns to face you. 

Her lips seek yours, and parting them open in an invitation for your tongue an instant later. When you dip your tongue in to taste her, she sucks on it, not wanting the appendage to leave her mouth. You obliged her, groaning and gripping the back of her neck, pulling her closer to deepen the kiss even more so. 

When she does try and pull away, needing a gasp of air, you hold her close for a moment more. It's the tiniest denial of oxygen, which in the realities of Natasha's life means nothing compared to the intensive training and oxygen regulation she has had to practice. In this moment though, even the tease of it feels exciting, has her panting and kissing at your neck. 

"No one else can have you. You're mine," Natasha says, biting at the skin underneath the collar of your shirt. The fabric prevents her teeth from sinking in too hard. The urge to bite you isn't fully satisfied though, so she tugs at the bottom of your shirt, pulling it off. You easily let her remove the fabric without resisting at all.  

"That's right, Angel, and I am so thankful to have been picked by you." 

Natasha kisses you again, pressing her body entirely against yours. It takes a moment of maneuvering, but with a lift of one of your legs and the help of some pillows, she finally has herself slotted as close to you as she can in this position. The angle isn't quite right, but the drag of your panties feels delicious when she grinds her hips down, and that's all that matters to her at the moment. 

Continuing on like that, grinding and kissing, you slip your fingers into her hair, occasionally tugging it when she tries to kiss you for too long without taking a breath. The slight pull on her hair makes her grind into you harder. 

"I want you to feel good, too," Natasha says, eventually resting her forehead against yours and staring intensely into your eyes. 

"I feel very good right now, Angel," you reassure her. "Nothing makes me feel better than helping you, and I haven't quite done that yet have I?"

"No," Natasha says, bringing her hands up to start caressing your chest like you had instructed her to do on herself before. "Can I have more help, please?" 

"Of course," you answer and reach for the abandoned womanizer toy that hasn't been touched yet. Natasha knows it will get her off. It's pretty much a fail-safe toy, sometimes too powerful. However, right now, it's not what she wants. So she stops you and reaches for the vibrator instead. 

Leaving the toy off, Phoenix positions it so it's nestled between the gaps of your body, pressing deliciously into her clit and yours. She grinds her hips down, which presses the vibe harder into you; it has you both gasping. You fumble for a moment but manage to turn the vibrator back on to a low setting. As it buzzes to life, neither of you can keep quiet even as you start kissing sloppily once more. 

Your hands settle on her hips to help her move. Getting closer to the edge, Natasha isn't doing much more than panting into your mouth and ignoring the shaking in her legs as she searches for pleasure. All while pathetically babbling to you, "So close, going to cum. Want to so bad." 

"I know, Angel. I got you," you say. Then clicking the vibrator up to a higher setting, you urge Natasha to press as close into you as she can. She follows you easily, and then when you buck your hips up, jostling the toy between you, she shatters. 

For a blissful moment, Natasha's brain goes blank. Her whole body shakes as her back arches. The only thing preventing her from falling backward on the bed is your hand still on her waist. She feels more sticky wetness gush from her. The high-pitched moans are beyond her control as she rides the aftershocks. 

As her orgasm fades, she observes you through lidded eyes. Watching as you seek your own pleasure, you aren't frantic like she was, though. Lazily rubbing against the vibrator, occasional moans falling from your lips. Leaning forward again, she slumps against your chest and mouths kisses and bites at your neck. 

Your arms wrap around her drawing her even closer and holding her tight. The way you hold Natasha always makes her feel so secure and safe. "I feel so good, thank you." 

"Did I help, angel?" 

"You always help," she whispers into your skin. The continued stimulation has started the build-up of a second orgasm for her. It feels much closer than her first. She doesn't make an effort to chase it this time, instead just enjoying the ride. 

She can tell you are getting close with how you start clutching her a little more desperately, less conscious of your nails on her skin. You've had many conversations and laments about not being able to mark Phoenix the way you really want. Always aware of the third person her job acts as in your relationship. She finds the energy to grind with you again, and praise instantly falls from your lips. 

"Yes, pretty girl. Fuck, you're so perfect. Just like that," you pant. Phoenix thinks she could do just about anything when you call her pretty. 

"Can I help?" She asks you, breathing the question in your ear and then gently sucking underneath it. 

"I'm already right there," you warn her. 

Working her hand down, she pushes your panties to the side so the wet vibrator can make direct contact with your clit. Natasha's juices and the lube mix with your own helping the toy move easier. One of your hands falls to her thigh, pushing it wider open to try and get your cunts closer together.  

Natasha swallows each sound you make, kissing you sloppily. It's a matter of time then for both of you. When you pull away from Natasha's lips, you suck in a few sharp breaths, then cry out and cumming hard. The sounds you make nearly had her cumming for a second time. She can feel it right there but isn't sure what to do to push herself over. 

You know what she needs, though, just like you always do. Cupping her chest, you sharply pinch her nipples, and she is falling apart again. Natasha crests the wave of her orgasm, but it just doesn't stop. She whines and shakes, trying to come back down from the high, but her body won't let her. A few tears fall from her eyes as squeaking cries continue in gasps from her. Even for several seconds after you move the vibrator away, her hips continue to rock. 

Natasha isn't much more than limp and still occasionally twitching when you untangle her from being wrapped around you. Laying her out on the bed, you pull her close to cuddle with you.  

After several quiet minutes where you're whispering to her and softly petting all of her available skin, the random twitching of sensitivity and pleasure finally seems to come to an end. Another few minutes after that until she feels coherent. 

Once you notice she is with you again, you push back her hair and trace the features of her face softly. "Do you feel better, Angel?"

"I do feel better. Thank you, don't know what I would do without you." 

"That makes two of us. I would be lost without you."

"I love you."

"I love you too, Natasha." 

"You're mine, and no one else can touch you." She reminds you. It has no real weight as she is still lying boneless and practically purring while leaning into the soft touches you're giving her. 

"I am," you easily agree. "Only yours, baby. You don't have to worry." 

"Never leave me."

"I won't. I'm yours, and I only want to be yours always," You say, pressing soft kisses all over her. 

After changing the sheets and only eating because you insist she needs to, Natasha doesn't feel anything other than reassured and happy as she snuggles into you and falls asleep that night. She knew you were exactly what she needed to finally unwind, and you hadn't disappointed her. When the relaxation in her body paired with the warmth of yours eased her into dreamland, the only thing she could think about was how lucky she was going to be waking up in the same bed as you. 

[mrsnancywheeler]

can’t help but wonder what daisy has to say about billy and his muse… hmm. i feel like she’d have some words about muse’s age, how young she is, and since she’s always starting fights with billy to begin with i can’t imagine it would do poor muse any good. i think daisy would feel some sort of kinship with her because of their shared experiences with absent parents and getting into bad situations with people older than them, i just don’t believe she would handle it responsibly 💀 wanting to help muse develop her own sound and come into herself musically outside of billy dunne and the rest of the band turns into holing up at daisy’s place for days on end and getting ridiculously high together. and i doubt billy would be too happy with his girl showing up completely strung out after vanishing off the face of the earth for a week either. hanging out with daisy feels good but frequently makes things worse instead of better. they’re so interesting i love thinking about them

I'm literally sat for this, I've been thinking about this since it was sent it and need to doscuss with y'all

okay so timeline wise I imagine muse met billy when they were still just the six but like after they'd gained some fame. obviously in this universe there's no camilla, I'd never hurt my girl more, and so billy is just a ticking time bomb of fame and ego and all of his dreams. and he's good but not as good as he thinks he is so when teddy has the idea to give an edge to the six by a collaboration with daisy jones he's still obviously very pissed but now muse is there too, there relationship is probably like 6 months old or so.

and daisy is changing lyrics, she brings so much energy into the studio, she's fun, and muse is young and I think instantly drawn to the magnetic field of daisy jones. kind of in awe of daisy which billy can't fathom because he's too busy being miffed about the whole ordeal. and in this version look at us now is about muse and billy, and daisy see's right through the original lyrics and her changes make muse feel more seen. so she listens to billy bitch and moan but secretly agrees.

and muse definitely pushes for daisy to be in the band, "billy's an ass, but everyone thinks you should join. he'll get over it eventually and realize."

and daisy is just open and honest about her thoughts right off the bat, "why do you stay with him? if he's an ass, then why?"

and muse is taken aback but also honest back because it feels right, "I don't want anyone else. not the way I want him."

daisy does get to join the band and with that she learns a lot more about muse and billy, more to dislike about the arrangement. muse is so young and attached, the only other person she turns to is eddie who obviously also wants to be with her, and daisy feels like any spark that muse has is quelled to play cheerleader for billy. and she respects that muse doesn't want to be a star but she tells her to write, or to talk and daisy will cultivate the ideas.

daisy definitely gets involved in a couple of fights that muse and billy have. "plenty of groupies to go around, don't need one wasting my goddamn time"

"don't fucking talk to her like that!"

"daisy-" you're trying to deescalate because you knows daisy and billy just make the fight worse.

"she's a person, a child, not something you get to call whatever you want when you're pissed off." daisy's turning to you, "c'mon let's go get some air, away from this asshole."

"you can't just walk out of rehearsal, daisy!" billy's calling after but you let daisy guide you.

"watch me!" and you and daisy are sitting outside, she's handing you some pill that you barely question before taking.

"you know, it's okay, it's just the way it is. no reason to fight more because of it."

"no, it's not okay. you know just because he's older and gives you what you crave doesn't mean you need him, right?"

you pause, "I know." you sigh, "daisy, I'm not a baby. I can take care of myself, I know what's going on."

"sure you do, chickadee." and suddenly it's like something lights within her and she's searching her pockets for a paper of napkin, "do you have something to write with?" and she ends up scribbling something you're not allowed to see on a napkin with your lipstick. eventually she makes it a song about you. and then your though and frustrations eventually become many many more songs.

and once during one of the breaks where they've got some time rather than muse spending time with billy she goes to hang out with daisy, which ends up being the whole of the break. she's with daisy, screaming out every frustration into metaphors daisy is scribbling out as they dance around to records taking every pill daisy can get hands on, lines off every surface, so many bottles completely empty. and whenever you just want to call billy or sometimes eddie, daisy totally encourages against it because, "you don't need them!" and when it's finally time to go back to the studio daisy has started to realize she handles highs terribly but better than you, who's not used to taking nearly as much as daisy does.

once they're stepping out of that taxi, billy's first words quickly form from a, "where the hell were you?" to a , "what is she on?" hands softly gripping your face, looking into her eyes, knowing you're gonna feels like crap later. and he's gonna end up nursing you out of a bender, daisy's kind of scared that you were so out of it by the end. so it creates another conflict when she's saying billy is horrible to you and billy brings up how she usually gets you too high to function.

let me know y'all's thoughts bc I'm definitely already cooking up more

[v3lvet-glitch]

✦Introducing, Opposite Katie!✦

AU belongs to @jacenotjason

I really like this version of the opposite au and decided to make my oc's opposite. :D

Katie Katelyn Playlist Here

Stuff About Katie:

Katie never received any kind of love (more specifically family love) from her parents thought out her entire life as they would always be arguing with one another over the stupidest things and simply ignore her thinking she wasn't worth the trouble or a single care. Basically neglecting her throughout her childhood.

She did receive love at one point from a lover in high school but it was only short lived after a year as the said lover started treating Katie horribly in the relationship, which later resulted in a break up by the third year of the relationship.

Since then, Katie has been a cold individual who it would take A LOT of time to convince that she's actually loved and cared about . Whether romantically or platonically.

Different to her original, she despises Howdy since he tried to steal her earphones on her first visit to his bodega after she flicked him off for flirting with her, which led to Katie somehow tackling his head down against the counter he was leaning on with her elbow. (Even after that, Howdy still flirts with Katie since he admired that "fire" of hers and just to simply annoy/tease her.)

She isn't very fond of Julie on a certain level because of how she is and how she treats Frank at times, but she's willing to tolerate her just as long as she doesn't hurt him in any way.

Her relationship with Frank is somewhat neutral as she tolerates him too, although she does care about him on a certain level but won't really admit it much. (Katie likes to compare Frank's hair to clouds which is how she came up with the "cloud-haired goober" nickname.)

Gets along well with Eddie with how they're somewhat similar to one another but would always have to make sure he doesn't do something too reckless or risky during his drunk state. (Which annoys Katie at times even when she sometimes finds it somewhat amusing.)

She would hang out at Barnaby's library most of the times when she isn't with Eddie or alone in her home and even started to him as a father figure at a certain level to the point where she's even called him "dad" a few times by accident and would later deny the fact she called Barns "dad". (Katie would tend to hide her face with the hood of her jacket when she gets embarrassed over it everytime, or when feeling embarrassed in general.)

Whenever Katie listens to music with her earplugs it allows her to block out any noises or muffle them out depending on what volume it's in. (Katie did the same thing in the past whenever it came to her parents' arguments and bickering.)

She has some trauma from her parents constant arguments and treatments towards her. For example, if she were to be in the middle of a small bickering between her neighbors Katie would simply put her earbuds in and start listening to music through them to muffle their words since she wants no part in it. But if the said bickering starts to turn serious to the point it leads to a heated argument Katie would start to turn up the volume to try to completely block them out as her vision starts to blur out a little and her breathing starts to get a bit heavy due to the raising stress and anxiety.

The stars drawn next to a neighbor is Katie's way of stating who she trusts or is fond of the most.

Another thing about Katie's family life is that her parents always putted up an image of a "perfect family" in public as they've revolved around looks and appearances. Which meant that Katie would always be forced to where something applying like dresses, make up, etc., something she'd always despised. (Which adds up as to why Katie would NEVER want to go anywhere near any sort of heavy make up and would never want to wear a dress often in her life ever.)

[a-small-writer-in-a-big-world]

Okay so I’ve been thinking about soap which led me to thinking about your soap and introvert!reader 🫠

For one I know soap loves listening to her talk (obviously cause she doesn’t do it a lot) but he loves bringing up topics that she’s passionate about cause 1. She looks so beautiful when she gets into it digging into all the details and the way the personality she keeps under wraps comes out when he gets a part wrong and 2. Intelligent women turn him on 🤷🏻‍♀️

The first time he gets her to be comfortable enough around him to start actually get her talking to the point where he’s just listening he has a very hard time hiding his hard on lol 100% covers it with a couch pillow and tries not to make it obvious and thank god reader wasn’t really paying attention cause it was so obvious it’s embarrassing 💀

Another thing, reader accidentally finds out that Johnny draws. She wandered over to his place to give him some food since she made way to much and she knocks but there’s no answer and Johnny has told her before just to come in if he doesn’t answer (obviously witching certain times lol) so she makes her way in and find him sitting on his couch with head phones on drawing in a sketch book. (I want to say it’s her he’s drawing but I’m not going too 😤) He’s drawing a set of brown eyes that seem to be surrounded by a mask? She’s in awe for a moment and goes to tap Johnny’s shoulder when he notices her and screams like a girl 🤣

Anyways this leads to them eventually getting to the point of (when Johnny is on extended leaves) he’ll wander over to her place and sit and draw while she does whatever it is that she does, reading, writing, music, or maybe even art herself. It would be so beautiful if this is when Johnny realizes he loves her. She calls him so much but he also gets to be who he truly is around her and he also bring out who she really is too 🥹

(Hope this all makes sense… anyways these are just thoughts not even really hc’s just little thoughts that came forward. Oh, and i also have another little thing for Simon and roommates!reader that I’ve been conjuring up and it won’t leave my mind so I’ll eventually send that ask 😈)

you are always giving me good thoughts because you're 100% right!!!! @random0lover

Soap would absolutely fall more in love with you the moment you start talking on and on about your favorite thing or something that you're interested in. He's 100% into intelligent people he will be turned on by someone who knows their stuff and by golly the first time you went crazy he was hanging onto every word but also trying really hard to not make it obvious he wanted to make out with you

(If you've seen that tik tok audio where it's like "i'm way too horn y to talk to this woman right now" that's him when you start talking passionately)

Soap would also definitely tell you you can enter his home whenever (as if you lived there too).

I think Soap would be a little embarrassed if you saw him drawing in his journal because his very nervous about you finding out he's drawn you so many times. But he's very willing to draw you something and if you suggest he can come over and draw while you do your own thing he might actually marry you

(i am so excited for the roommate series ask that will be coming you feed me so well)

[connorsnothereeither]

This is 100% inspired by @heyhay13’s post about Jason, but I had so much fun playing in the 90’s Halloween one-shot Rolling Ghosts this weekend on twitch, run by our amazing DM Strawberripine!! The session was an absolute blast!! If you missed it live but would still like to watch, it’s still up on Strawberripine’s twitch, and I believe Heyhay is working on an edit for YouTube too!!

The art above was done by an amazing friend of mine thebeetlebard on Instagram who was super kind to take the commission for me to draw him fairly last moment!!

I just really wanted to talk some more about my boy Charlie!!

Charlie’s full name is Charles Hobbs! He’s very timid, anxious and reserved, and he’s sort of the art kid of the group, having drawn Jason’s character art of Syreen for him, and having also drawn his own character art for his paladin, Romulus! He spent a good couple of days outside of school working on making his cardboard armour for his Halloween costume, and he also helped Morgan with the armour pieces for her costume too!

Charlie is an only child, and lives with his two parents. His relationship with them isn’t necessarily bad, but they both work full time jobs, leaving him to do his own thing most of the time (more often then not that “own thing” involves hanging out with either Jason or Morgan, since he’s not exactly comfortable being alone for too long, as we saw…)

Speaking of them, within the party they’re definitely the two people Charlie knows the best. Morgan has been his next door neighbour since as long as he can remember and the two are very close and supportive of each other. As much as Morgan is the weird friend she’s his weird friend dammit. Jason and Charlie met when they were pretty young too; he’s one of the few people Charlie genuinely feels close to and comfortable around, and is the one who dragged him into joining the D&D party in the first place to try and help him open up a little, which is where he met Gabe and Xander (who scares him just a little). The fact that his two best friends have been fixtures in his life for so long definitely also feeds into his fear of being abandoned: the thought of the people he’s always cared about and always had around suddenly leaving him hits very much to his core.

I also have a character playlist for Charlie, which is entirely made up of early 90’s and late 80’s songs so it is very much also just the kind of music he would listen to!

I had so much fun making and playing this awkward lad, and the session was so amazingly put together and fun to be a part of! Getting to see him come into his own as a character arc even within a one-shot was really fun! :))

[kk095]

The Drive By

Adriana Torrez was a 22 year old Latina with a fiery, outgoing personality. She stood at 5’2 with a pleasantly plump build, had dark curly hair, brown eyes, a naturally tan complexion, and colorful tattoo sleeves up and down both arms. Adriana was always a little rebellious and had the tendency to hang out with a rougher crowd.

A few nights ago, Adriana was hanging out at a friend’s apartment with a few people. It was her, her friend Crystal, a guy Diego who was a drug dealer in the neighborhood, and a guy Jay who’s gang affiliated. The group was just hanging out in the living room of the first floor apartment drinking, smoking weed, and listening to music. Out the living room window, a black SUV pulls up, kind of idling in front of the apartment. “who the hell’s that?” crystal asks. Suddenly, the back passenger side window of the SUV lowers, and out is an Uzi sub machine gun. The gunman sprays a few quick bursts into the apartment through the living room window. Diego is struck twice in the head before he even has a chance to react, dropping dead to the floor. Adriana unfortunately gets caught up in the crossfire, being struck twice in the chest, and once in the left shoulder, collapsing to the floor bleeding profusely. Jay pulls his gun from a drawer in the living room table and heads outside attempting to confront the shooter, but the SUV had already sped off into the night. “oh my God, oh my God! Adriana?!” crystal shouted, on the verge of tears. Adriana laid on the floor, gurgling on her own blood while bleeding out. Adriana had a terrified look in her eyes, but couldn’t get the words out of her mouth. “jay! We gotta call 911!” crystal shouted in a panicked tone. “no no no, fuck that. I got weed and guns in here. I don’t want the cops coming!” Jay protested. “her and Diego got fuckin shot! Come on bro!” crystal cried out. “naw, fuck this shit. I’m outta here.” Jay said, grabbing his car keys and heading out the door, heading to God knows where. Crystal decided to call 911 on her cell phone once Jay left.

“911, what is your emergency?” a female dispatcher’s voice asked. “Help! Help! There’s been a shooting at my friend’s apartment! You gotta hurry!!!” crystal shouted into the phone, practically on the verge of tears. “what is the location of your emergency?” the dispatcher asks in response. “I don’t know! It’s the apartment complex off conway boulevard near the liquor store. You gotta hurry! My friend’s dying!” crystal yelled into the phone, sobbing at this point. “alright ma’am, I have police and EMS en route. Please remain on the line for me.” The 911 operator replied.

In a few minutes, officer Natalie was first on scene. She entered the residence with her gun drawn. “hey! Over here! Help!!!” crystal shouted. Natalie put her gun back in her holster and headed over. “I have 2 victims. One deceased male Hispanic, early 20s, one Hispanic female early 20s, multiple gsw’s. Requesting EMS and homicide on scene.” Natalie said into her radio. “10-4. EMS is already en route. We’ll reach out to homicide.” A male voice on the radio replied to officer Natalie. “hi sweetie, I’m officer Natalie. Can you tell me who did this?” Natalie asks Adriana. The terrified girl gurgles on her own blood, spitting some up, with tears rolling down her face. “I… I don’t know. There was a black truck outside…” Adriana replied to officer Natalie. “great job sweetie, that’s really helpful. Do you know whose truck it is? Have you seen it before?” Natalie replied, holding the mortally wounded young lady’s hand. “I don’t know… I’m so scared…” Adriana replied, squeezing the officer’s hand tightly. “it’s ok sweetie, I have help on the way. The ambulance is gonna be here soon.” Officer Natalie says, trying to keep the girl calm. “What’s your name hunny?” Natalie asks the girl, trying to keep her calm. “adriana…” she replies. “I’m Natalie. I wish we met under different circumstances sweetie.” Natalie says back to the young lady, still holding her hand.

Finally, medics Tracy and Stephanie show up. “whoa, what happened here?” Stephanie asks, looking at the hectic scene. “drive by shooting. Guy over there didn’t make it, coroner and homicide are coming. But this is Adriana. She got hit a couple times and needs some attention.” Officer Natalie tells the two medics. “pleaee… don’t go anywhere… I’m scared…” Adriana says to officer Natalie. “it’s gonna be ok, I’m not gonna go anywhere.” The cop tells Adriana. “is she gonna be ok?!” crystal shouts, standing in the background. “she’s in good hands. I’m sure they’ve seen worse before.” Officer Natalie replies.

Tracy and Stephanie snip off Adriana’s top and bra, examining the bullet trajectory. “all 3 rounds have entry and exit wounds. Went clean through her.” Medic Tracy says. “yeah, tons of blood loss. Let’s get an IV set up and get her going on fluids and pain meds.” Medic Stephanie replied. With that said, IVs were set up in both arms, with fluid resuscitation commencing immediately, along with a dose of pain meds. Tracy stuck some EKG electrodes onto Adriana’s bare, blood soaked chest and set up the heart monitor while Stephanie removed Adriana’s pants, socks, and pair of Jordans she was wearing. “vitals unstable. BP 60/palp, heart rate’s 140, O2 saturation 91%. We gotta get her to the ER ASAP.” Tracy said. Tracy and Stephanie got Adriana onto a gurney, and brought her out of the living room, wheeling her into the ambulance nearby. Officer Natalie was allowed to come into the ambulance with Adriana since homicide and the coroner’s office arrived on scene to begin their investigation, talk to crystal, and take Diego’s body.

The heart monitors beeped loud and fast during the ambulance ride, with no sign of improvement in Adriana’s vital signs. “natalie… am I gonna die?...” Adriana asked the cop, tears running down her face. “it’s all gonna be ok, I promise.” Natalie replied calmly, trying to reassure the girl. “it hurts so much…” Adriana replied, spitting up more blood. “I know sweetie. It’s all gonna be ok.” Natalie replies, holding the girls hand, while stroking her hair with the other hand.

Adriana remained conscious the entire way to the hospital, and was wheeled into the trauma bay where Dr Lindsay, Dr Jose, nurse Nancy, and nurse Heather waited. “22 year old female, multiple GSWs to the chest and shoulder. Hypotensive, tachy, started fluids on scene.” Medic Tracy summarized to the trauma team. “ok thank you, let’s transfer her on my count. 1..23!” Dr Lindsay ordered. Adriana was now on the trauma room table underneath the large, bright overhead light. Officer Natalie and the two medics were asked to wait behind the yellow line in the trauma room so the doctors and nurses could have space to work. “natalie?... You there?...” a terrified Adriana asked. “I’m just over here. They want me to wait here while they work, ok?” the cop replies.

“Diminished breath sounds left side.” Dr Jose calls out after listening to Adriana’s heart and lungs with his steth. “alright, she probably needs a chest tube. Let’s get that set up. And let’s get her started on the MTP. 4 units packed RBCs unmatched, 2 of platelets, 2 of plasma.” Dr Lindsay barked out, taking charge of the stressful situation. “doctor… am I gonna die?...” a terrified Adriana asks Dr Lindsay. “you’re in good hands, ok?” Lindsay replied, not exactly reassuring the young lady. Jose begins placing the chest tube on the left side. Adriana yelps at the top of her lungs, several octaves above her normal speaking voice, feeling the scalpel’s every move, and the large plastic tube being jammed into such a small space. Blood shot out of the chest tube and onto Dr Jose’s trauma gown. Her oxygen saturation improved, but her vitals did not. “please… I’m so scared… I don’t wanna die…” Adriana begged the trauma team after the brutal, painful procedure was finished up.

Not too long after the chest tube was placed, Adriana began to deteriorate rapidly. She spit up more blood, and her eyes started to roll back into her head. “adriana? Stay with us hun.” Nurse Nancy said, doing a sternal rub. Adriana groaned, her eyes opening slightly in response as she fought with everything she had left to remain conscious. Adriana’s eyes were open slightly, letting out a calm exhale followed by a bit of blood before fading away. “I lost a pulse.” Nurse Heather called out, her blue eyes trained on the heart monitor to confirm. “starting compressions.” Nurse Nancy stated to the team. The veteran nurse delivered deep, strong, forceful compressions while nurse Heather grabbed an intubation tray. Officer Natalie was still watching behind the yellow line in the trauma room, absolutely sick to her stomach watching the young lady receive cpr. With CPR ongoing, Heather begins sliding the ET tube into Adriana’s airway while her head bobbed and lolled a bit, making it a bit of a moving target. Heather had to really concentrate, which was easier said than done in the chaotic situation of monitors chirping, CPR ongoing, and people shouting. Finally, Heather gets the tube in, and secures it with a blue tube holder. “I’m in!” she says confidently, then starts ambu bagging. PEA was on the monitors, so epi and atropine were injected intravenously in an attempt to obtain a shockable rhythm. Adriana’s eyes remained half open, staring blankly off to the room as her bare, busty chest is rocked with harsh compressions.

Several minutes of unsuccessful resuscitation efforts and another dose of meds are pushed, but PEA persisted. “thoracotomy tray. I’m gonna open her up.” Dr Lindsay called out decisively. Betadine was squirted into Adriana’s bare chest, with an incision being made no more than a second after the brownish-orange liquid hit her skin. Dr Lindsay made a quick, crude incision in the 5th intercostal space starting just shy of the sternum. The cut was extended laterally across her chest, underneath her large, plump breast, and ending just shy of her left armpit. In the coming moments, Dr Lindsay did her thing and cracked Adriana’s chest wide open.

There was a large rush of blood that exited the incision area upon entry to the chest cavity. The area was suctioned out multiple times, and a vascular clamp was placed on the descending aorta near the girl’s diaphragm. Lindsay performed a quick pericardiotomy and relieved a massive cardiac tamponade with clots that were able to be suctioned out. At that point, Adriana’s heart began to fibrillate. The internal paddles were charged to 20, lowered into her chest, and a shock was delivered. A dull, wet thump was heard. From Natalie and the medics’ position, you could see Adriana’s toes curl, showing off the deep, thick, soft wrinkles throughout the soles of her size 7 feet. “Nothing. Charging to 30.” Dr Lindsay called out. The electric whining of the paddles charging could be heard, followed by a wet ka-thunk. “no change, charging again to 30.” Dr Lindsay called out, eyes trained on the heart monitor for a moment. The large, spoon shaped paddles were lowered back into Adriana’s chest around her twitching heart, and a shock was delivered. Her torso jolted a bit and her large, d cup breasts jiggled for a moment. “still nothing. Let’s hit her again at 40.” Dr Lindsay called out, shaking her head. The paddles were lowered back in, and a shock was delivered. Adriana’s torso twitched sharply in response to the dose of electricity, while her eyes remained half open, staring upwards in an expressionless gaze. Dr Lindsay reached her hands back into Adriana’s chest, firmly wrapped her hands around the dying girl’s heart, and began vigorously massaging it. Another dose of meds were injected intravenously, hoping to stimulate cardiac activity.

A few cycles of internal massage and meds failed to restore spontaneous circulation, so the internal paddles were recharged and called for once again. The blood soaked paddles were lowered back in, and another shock was delivered. “no change. Shocking again at 40.” Lindsay called out, lowering the paddles back in as the electric whining sound was heard. The same dull, wet thump was heard, but the high pitched droning of the monitors going flat was heard almost instantaneously after the shock. Lindsay looked down and saw the girls heart sitting completely motionless and still inside her chest. “pupils fixed and dilated.” Dr Jose added, shining a pen light into Adriana’s eyes. Lindsay sighed, “she’s gone. Time of death, 1:36am.”

The ambu bag was detached from the ET tube and the flatlined monitors were shut off. Nurse Nancy gently shut Adriana’s eyes for the final time. “no! She’s young! Come on, shock her again!” officer Natalie shouts at the team, on the verge of tears. “nat…come on…” medic Stephanie says discretely, putting her hand on the cop’s shoulder. “she can’t be gone! She was talking to me on the way over!” Natalie cried out, trying to plead with Lindsay. “I’m sorry Natalie, but she’s gone. We did the best we could, but she lost so much blood in such a short timespan.” Lindsay replied, trying to be sympathetic towards the upset cop. “then give her more blood! Do something!” Natalie yelled, tears rolling down her face. “nat, I’m sorry. We all did our best.” Lindsay replied. Natalie collapses to the ground and cries “no…”

The drive by shooting of Diego Ortega and Adriana Torrez is still under investigation. Detectives still don’t have any leads on the whereabouts of the black SUV, or the location of Jay. If you have any information critical to this case, please reach out to the authorities. We also would like to keep the family and friends of the victims in our thoughts and prayers in this difficult time.

[v3nusxsky]

Rhythms of the soul

*Authors note~ the long awaited start to the series that has been inhabiting my brain for ages now, would love to hear your thoughts*

Trigger warnings~ nothing major, club vibes strippers etc mentions of our past issues Leonora messing with our feelings unknowingly

Tag list

Working at Sinful Souls was never your plan, you had dreams and plans for your life. Ending up dancing was never a part of that, dancing being a coping mechanism but not something you considered yourself to be good at, isn’t a job you hate. Truthfully, you’d left school and immediately settle down with your girlfriend at the time, rose coloured glasses on, your life was on track. Until it wasn’t.

She changed, stripping away at you until you were nothing more than a shell, an object, something to use and abuse whenever she felt the need. All your dreams went down the drain, you were only there to serve. So the night she left you, you immediately went out to drown what you thought were your sorrows. Crawling from club to club until you were so intoxicated all your guards grumbled. From there you were scouted by the sleazy owner wanting more girls to dance. You fit his type, and being able to move and manipulate your body so seductively was the added bonus.

Alone, strapped for cash and highly intoxicated you accepted the job offer and that’s where the dancing started. Hours and hours of blood sweat and tears went into perfecting routines. Learning the rules and hidden call signs and adorning your own stage name. But naturally, men seemed to be your curse. Despite the club having a no touching rule, alcohol and men don’t always mean they listen. Something you payed the price for. The owner not even bothering to protect his girls is the reason you moved clubs.

Sinful Souls was relatively new on the street, whispers passed from dancer to dancer about the vibes, the owner and the clientele was what had you applying. Surly a female club owner would respect the dancers as more than just a body. Right?

The deep red and blacks gave the club that intimate, sexy vibe, poles being centred and in the best possible lighting. A long bar sat alone along the back wall off the club, rows of liquor bottles hanging on display, “ride with the devil, hide with the Lord” hung above the bar which you found humour in. The irony of the Lord and devil being mentioned in this setting wasn’t lost on you. But what caught you the most was the striking red headed woman dressed in a crisp white shirt, black pants that were decorated with chains, a black waist coat and beautiful onyx curls that seemed to have a mind of their own.

From the booth where you settled yourself in for the night you were drawn to the woman who was expertly pouring drinks and chatting up the punters while girls danced on tables enticing both men and women to watch their routines. Observing the light atmosphere, tasteful outfits and music alongside how the girls were often brought drinks to hydrate after a set, you knew this would be a better environment to work in than the last sleazy club you’d been employed at. At least here the girls were seen as more than common whores to be used and more like beautiful dancers to be admired and appreciated.

“What can I getcha?” Was almost purred in your ear by yet another red head clad in heels and a ruby red leotard and fishnet stockings. “Oh no, nothing but here” you murmured tipping the anonymous woman a proper tip causing her to smirk and saunter off. Little did you know you had unknowingly caught the owners attention. “What is a pretty dove like you doing here?” Leonora murmured as she caught your attention joining you at your booth.

“I-uh um” if you could’ve slapped some sense into yourself there you would’ve. Who can blame you for the gay panic when the attractive dark haired bar woman was looking at you with those eyes. “You dance sweetheart?” A nod felt safer than stumbling over your words or voicing your thoughts on her appearance. Your thighs squeezed together in anticipation as her gaze seemed to darken. “Dance for me doll.”

And that is how you found yourself dancing for Leonora. Strict but fair and always stuck to her words despite the unconventional interview. The memories of dancing on the pole under her watchful eye or your hips grinding on her thigh as you maintained eye contact would resurface every time you went to work. Every dance you did you wished it was her under you. Her eyes raking over your exposed body. Her hands itching to touch you. But it wouldn’t happen. The girls warned you that although the boss is practically sins on legs, she wouldn’t ever involve herself with her dancers like that. In fact your boss is more known for her cold demeanour and one night stands than settling down. Perhaps that’s why she owned such an establishment. Still a girl can dream.

Some nights were better than the others, most of the girls seemed to be friendly but for some reason you never felt like you fit in with them. Naturally, they are stunning and talented but you seemed to be the odd one out here. Perhaps that’s why Leonora made more of an effort with you, when the clients got a bit to handsy or took your reaction to their advances hideously resulting in your emotional upset, Leonora knew you’d have no one in your corner. But she was there. If anyone asked, which they did, she would state she’s just being a good boss.

A typical night for Leonora is to arrive and set up the club, stock the shelves of alcohol, welcome the girls in for practice which she would observe before retreating to her office to complete admin and finally head out to help her bar staff. It just so happened that flirting with you, observing you more closely and knowing your timings and booking matched up with her well set routine. You didn’t have to know the effect you have on her. Perhaps that’s why she makes sure you see her take home her pretty find of the night. Just so you don’t get confused on where you stand.

“Delicate doll” she purred to catch your attention with your usual in her hand. You realised she only memorised your order, her hands only fell on your back as she guided you off the stage. None of the other girls were in this complex relationship with her. Just you. “Drink doll” was all she offered as you gulped your drink down in one, her eyes glued to the way your throat moved, if she’d been closer her hand would’ve been wrapped around the slender column as you drank.

“Lesso? Leonora? Ma’am?” You couldn’t help but be effected by her harsh gaze, “you are starring.” The dark haired woman was quick to quip back, “Well can you blame me when you’re flaunting yourself about like a common whore?” Ouch. Well it was your job. “Just jealous cause the blonde wants me hm?” You mumbled as you turned to ready yourself for your booking with the mysterious blonde stranger. “Don’t mistake this. You. Are. Mine. Doll.” She all be growled out, “to her you’re this delicate doll, don’t forget who gave you that title.”

Memories of your interview flooded back and took full control over your mental and emotional response, “or what? Gonna remind me hmm? Or is Clarissa going home with you tonight?” You sneered at her. Truthfully you wanted her, in every way, but what you wanted the most was for her to decide either way if she wanted you. The back and forth teasing and flirting was fun for a while but now your feelings were overwhelming you, complicating the situation.

“Dolly, your woman is in room 6” Clarissa stated as she slipped into the room, hands trailing across Leonora’s back to eventually land on her hips, fingers playing with the chains there. “Ma’am?” She whispered just loud enough to be heard, “let me help with your stress.” Immediately Leonora snapped her attention to the brunette giving you the chance to escape the scene. If she was going to get fucked then you’d go do your job and leave. No more excuses or flirting would occur with her.

[kingofthering]

Charlos + reconciliation

Carlos is quiet on the plane home.

No.

Carlos is silent on the plane home, which is as odd from the rarity of it as it was to be expected from the day he’s had. It still puts Charles on an edge he isn’t sure what to do with.

The race has been over for 5 hours, they’ve been in the air for two of those. Carlos hasn’t said a single word since the “Sure, thank you” he gave their flight attendant when she asked if they wanted to have the privacy curtains drawn around their duo seats.

He even managed it with a polite smile because give it to Carlos to still be nice to innocent people who didn’t deserve his wrath when he wasn’t in a mood. It’s something Charles has always admired about him. Carlos says that Charles is the same but Charles knows that his annoyance reads in his face if you know how to look. Carlos is way better than that.

It’s a harsh contrast with the flights they took to get there. Charles had arrived later because of commitment back home but he’d followed Carlos’ cute advice stories with a stupid smile on his face. He teased Carlos about them just a little when he joined him in his room later that night. It put the lightest of blush on Carlos’ face and god, would Charles never be immune to that.

Today, Carlos is silent and Charles doesn’t know what to do about it. In the air between Melbourne and Italy, Charles can’t remember the last time he couldn’t figure out his way around Carlos.

They’re good at hanging out in the same space together. They always have but they perfected the art with the years. It’s not that they always need to talk but usually, there is always something in the air to listen to (Carlos humming a song that Charles will inevitably have in his head for the rest of the day, the sounds that the pieces make on the chessboard when they move in the app they use to play against each other, the music or the movie that they watch together, a pair of earbuds shared between the two of them).

Charles doesn’t even think that Carlos has moved since he popped his earphones in, his eyes opening only to check his phone every now and then.

It’s not like Charles doesn’t understand where the anger and frustration come from (because that’s pretty much what this boils down to, with a bunch of other feelings that they’ll dissect when they’re alone and ready). Australia has been a disaster for the two of them and Charles can’t wait to put it behind them. If he reads one more time that they were fighting after quali and that “a reconciliation might not be an option available for the two Ferrari teammates”, Charles might have an aneurysm.

“It might not work, the two of us. Being together and being teammates, it’s not supposed to work, you know?” Carlos had told him months ago when they were toying with the idea of really getting serious.

From the expression on Carlos’ face, the lines on his forehead and the pull of his lower lip between his teeth, Charles had guessed that there was a history there. He’d mentally gone through all of Carlos’ previous teammates, trying to figure out who could have hurt Carlos or put stupid shit like that in his head (the answer had been Nico, and Carlos had to make Charles promise that he wouldn’t be mean to the German if they crossed path) (Charles had eventually agreed, it wasn’t like Nico was in the paddock much, back then).

In the end, every relationship was a challenge. If being teammates added to the nuances to navigate, Charles was just going to work harder for them. He knew they both deserved it.

Carlos may be silent but when in the cocoon of their little bubble, Charles lays one hand palm up on Carlos’ thigh, it barely takes a second for Carlos to take it and intertwine their fingers together. The look that he shares with Charles, one corner of his mouth ticking up just a bit, is worth more than plenty of outspoken words.

[akanewcrld]

1A GIRLS AS YOUR DESKMATE

notes: what it would be like to share a desk with them!! 

characters: ochako uraraka, momo yaoyorozu, kyoka jiro, mina ashido, tsuyu asui, toru hagakure 

warnings: mentions of food in tsus!!

word count: 0.8k

OCHAKO URARAKA, who passes you little notes everyday. it could be a question like “wanna hang out after school?” or just a cute drawing, but you often see a little folded paper with a heart on your desk. 

your eyes look down to find a white paper folded, with a tiny heart drawn on top. you look over to ochako, who is too busy writing down notes about the lesson to notice. 

you open the paper, reading the content inside. “hey, wanna hang out after school? :D” you take your pencil and write on her note “ofc <3” and slide it back to her. 

ochako reads the note, smiling over at you before going back to writing the notes. 

MOMO YAOYOROZU, who helps you study. if you space off in class, she will let you copy off her notes. she invites you to her dorm to help you learn everything you need to for that next test, but sometimes you’ll just hang out. 

“y/n?” you snap out of your thoughts, looking over at momo. you ask her what she needs. 

“you haven’t written down any notes.” you look at momo’s paper with half of the page already filled, then at yours, which is empty. 

“here, you can copy off mine, but pay more attention next time, y/n.” momo tilts her notebook towards you slightly, continuing to write. 

“we can also study at my dorm later, if you want.” momo tucks a strand of hair behind her ear. you nod your head in agreement, making momo smile. 

KYOKA JIRO, who gives you her airpod in a boring class so you can both listen to music. she’ll usually play loud music but sometimes you’ll convince her to turn it down so she can at least try to focus. 

you let out a sigh, only loud enough for you to hear, and jiro. she looks over at you, pulling out her airpods. she holds one out to you that you take and she starts to play music. 

you take a few minutes to not pay attention to the class, lightly tapping your feet to the rhythm of the music. once one or two songs end you turn to jiro. 

“hey, maybe we should try to pay attention a little bit, that looks like stuff we should probably know.” jiro frowns, but it’s not like you want to pay attention either. 

“yeah, you’re right.” she turns her music down some, giving you a thumbs up before she starts writing. 

MINA ASHIDO, who is always talking to you during class. it doesn’t bother you much, but aizawa often has to interrupt his teaching to tell her to pay attention. due to all of her talking, she doesn’t get the best grades, but you try your best to help her!

“hey y/n? me and the squad are gonna be hanging in my room if you wanna come! it will be fun.” mina whisper shouts. 

“sure, i will.” you smile at mina, turning back to your notes. 

“oh, did you hear that-“ 

“mina, stop talking in my class, or i will send you to detention.” aizawa clears his throat, going back to his lesson. 

“i’ll tell you later..” mina tries to focus on the lesson, visibly confused. 

“i could help you later if you want.” mina nods in agreement. 

TSUYU ASUI, who is always giving you little snacks and sometimes packs your lunch for you. sometimes she’ll even bring homemade food, which tastes very good. 

your stomach grumbles quietly. you forgot to eat breakfast and it’s the class before lunch. you stare at the clock, willing it to go faster. 

“y/n, are you hungry, kero? i made some homemade cookies if you want one.” your eyes light up at tsu’s words and you eagerly nod your head. 

tsu hands you a cookie which you take a bite of. “mmm!” you whisper, taking another bite. tsu puts her cookies away. 

“im glad you like them, kero.” 

TORU HAGAKURE, who always lets you borrow her school supplies. pencils, highlighters, erasers, anything you need. 

“alright class, take out you pencil and notebook. you’re gonna need it.” your teacher says. you grab your notebook from your bag, searching for a pencil as well. 

hagakure taps you on the shoulder. “y/n? here, take this.” she gives you a pencil which you accept. “thanks hagakure!” you smile at her. 

“do you need a highlighter too? fee free to use mine.” hagakure has a few highlighters lined up on the desk in the middle of you and her. 

“you’re really awesome for letting me use your school supplies hagakure, thanks.” you tell her at the end of class

“o-oh, it’s nothing. just trying to help out a friend.”

[immabethehero]

A Jolly Holiday (WDTAJN - Song)

Finally have them all done! Here’s my last entry for @wdtajn! The song? Jolly Holiday from Mary Poppins!

(So a bit of context: I made a boyfriend for Bruno. His name is Matias, he’s an inventor who showed up in the Encanto after the events of the movie. His inventions are unpredictable, to say the least. They don’t always work and often end with an explosion. Think Dr. Doofenshmirtz, but if his parents were actually supportive and loving. He was kicked out of his hometown when his parents died, and has been hopping from town to town since. Until he ended up in the Encanto.)

PS. he also owns a grey cat named Alegria ^u^

*******

Bruno spends an extra hour in the bathroom this morning, washing his hair and shaving as much as he can. Thirty minutes are spent on teeth alone. He throws on his prettiest ruana (with extra embroidery by Mirabel) over a new green and white striped shirt and purple pants. A corsage tucked over his heart, he dashes downstairs.

His cheerful presence is not lost on the family, who watch him intently.

“Wonder what’s got him all cleaned up,” Camilo says.

“Matias is coming over,” Isabela answers as she walks out. Camilo blanches.

“Not with a new machine, right?” he whispers to his sister. Dolores simply stares at him.

“Not with a new machine, right?” Camilo squeaks.

Dolores rolls her eyes and strains her head to listen. “It’s definitely not his typical machine… it does sound awfully loud. Sort of like… instruments crashing together.” Camilo weakly whimpers.

“Don’t worry, Papá and I have been teaching him to play,” Mirabel says as she passes.

“Play?!”

Mirabel ignores her primo and runs out. “I’m going for a walk, see ya!”

Bruno picks up a small parcel wrapped up in a custom wrapping paper with little drawn gears shaped like hearts on them. He approaches his sobrinos and twirls. 

“How do I look?”

“Better than usual,” Camilo admits. “I can’t even smell your breath from here.”

“You look muy guapo,” Dolores says. “What’s the occasion?”

“It’s our anniversary today!” Bruno squeals. “A whole year! I can’t wait to show Matias my gift-”

Bang! Crash! Bang! Crash! True to what Dolores said, whatever invention Matias has brought this time, it’s going to be a very musical, albeit noisy one.

“That’s definitely not what I had in mind when he said he would surprise me today,” Bruno says. “Camilo, what do you see out there?”

Camilo peers out the window. Matias has put on a lovely suit, no doubt tailored by Agustín. His black dreadlocks have been tied up into a bun. However, his silver vest and new purple shirt hide underneath a shield of musical instruments. A horn hangs across his chest, a trumpet is strapped to his chest, an accordion is fastened to his belt, and on his back is a large bass drum, with crash cymbals on top of it. When he moves, a mallet bangs on the drum and the cymbals crash together. Mirabel stands beside him, trying to suppress her amused smile.

Camilo turns back to Bruno. “Do you remember that movie we watched together? The one with the magical nanny?”

Bruno nods. “Yeah?”

“That’s your surprise-”

Bruno dashes out before Camilo can finish his sentence.

“Good morning, hermoso! Happy anniversary!” Matias yells over his instruments banging together.

“Hey Matias! I heard you were coming,” Bruno says. “Literally. What are you wearing? What is all this?”

The inventor twirls around. “Do you like it? I thought I’d take a page out of the moving picture you showed us the other day.” He picks up the accordion and begins to play.

“You didn’t strike me as an accordion player,” Bruno admits as he listens to Matias. He’s actually holding the instrument correctly! And not butchering any notes! It’s a miracle!

“That’s because I’m not. Mirabel had to teach me,” Matias admits. 

“I did offer to play with him, but he wanted to do the whole act,” Mirabel adds.

“I’m dating an actual soap opera star. I need to have some credibility to my name,” Matias says. He takes a deep breath and begins to sing.

Ain't it a glorious day?

Right as a morning in May

I feel like I could fly

“Isn’t this from Mary Poppins?” Bruno asks.

“Shut up and please let me do this.”

Have you ever seen the grass

So green, or a bluer sky?

Oh it's a jolly holiday with Bruno

Bruno makes your heart so light!

“You have too much faith in me, mi vida,” Bruno says with a laugh.

When the day is gray and you feel low

The sky suddenly darkens before the sun breaks through once more.

Bruno makes the sun shine bright!

Bruno spies Pepa peeking out from behind a tree. How many Madrigals did Matias plan this with?!

Oh, happiness is blooming all around him,

The daffodils are smiling at the dove

Right on cue, daffodil petals shower Bruno. He catches Isabela high–fiving his sister.

When Bruno holds your hand

You feel so grand

Your heart starts beating like a big brass band!

Matias jumps to the beat, the instruments a rhythmic discord. Mirabel winces, but Bruno laughs.

It's a jolly holiday with Bruno

No wonder that it's Bruno that we love!

Matias grabs Bruno’s hand and pulls him through the town. Isabela showers flowers in their direction and Antonio stands by a fence with animals lined up. Matias joins them.

“We practiced on this all week! Take it away guys!”

“Baaaaa!” an older ram sings. Interesting.

“Baa! Baa!” a trio of lambs respond.

A horse whinnies the next part, followed by a cow mooing. Are the animals supposed to sing along? Bruno raises an eyebrow.

“You know this part sounded better in my head,” Matias admits. Bruno snorts. “Antonio said they sounded like a choir.”

“They do!” Antonio exclaims.

Donkeys bray the next line, and a large pig finishes the verse with two loud snorts. Mirabel and Antonio sing the translation, hoping to save the last verse of the song.

When Bruno holds your hand

You feel so grand

Your heart starts beating like a big brass band!

It's a jolly holiday with Bruno

No wonder that it's Bruno that we love!

Bruno applauds the “musician” and the animals (who honestly did their best). “Asombroso! Wonderful playing!”

Matias attempts to bow, the accordion pushing into his stomach. “Note to self: it’s hard to bend over when you have instruments strapped to you.”

“Need help getting all that off?” Bruno asks, gently knocking on the drum.

“Yes, actually, the local band needs all of these back before their next gig.”

Bruno freezes. “Seriously? How did you even get them to give you these instruments?”

“Your sobrina is a very persistent young lady,” Matias answers, nodding to Mirabel. She winks.

“He’s my best pupil! I’ve never seen anyone learn the accordion so quickly before,” Mirabel says. “Other than me, of course.”

“Your whole family is quite musical, so I thought it would be smart if I joined in,” Matias explains.

Bruno’s eyes widen. “Oh! I’m actually not that musical myself, you didn’t have to go through all that trouble.”

“Really? I always took you for a pianist, especially with those hands of yours.”

Bruno’s cheeks burn hotter than the sun. He shoves Matias playfully. “Come on, let’s get these instruments off you. That way I can show you the gift I got you…”

*

If Camilo hears the discordant cymbal crashing as he walks through town, he does not acknowledge it. He doesn’t hear the drum occasionally going thump. And he certainly doesn’t hear the rhythmic squeezing of a dying accordion squashed between two people. No. He won’t acknowledge the sound of the One (well, Two) Man Band!

*

Matias holds up his new notebook, running his hands over the pretty cover. Illustrated rats play with kittens, no doubt inspired by Alegria, Matias’ grey cat. “This is a wonderful gift! I definitely needed a new sketchbook! You have no idea how many new ideas I’ve got.”

“The last one looked like it was bursting at the seams. And look-” Bruno flips through the pages. Little sketches of cats appear, along with encouraging messages in Bruno’s handwriting. Matias freezes.

“My writing looks more like chicken scratches, so I hope you can actually read them,” Bruno rambles. “I did try looking for inspirational quotes from the future… but I don’t think you’d get any references, so I just stuck to basic stuff. Cheesy, right?” He stops when he sees Matias wiping away tears. Bruno winces.

“It’s bad, isn’t it? You can always rip those out or draw over them or-”

“My first notebook was a lot like this. Full of little motivational quotes written by my parents.” That catches Bruno off guard. In all their time together, Matias had never really mentioned his own family. Hell, he even arrived in Encanto alone!

“I think it’s still in my green toolbox. I always keep the most important stuff in that toolbox,” Matias says.

Bruno moves closer to Matias, motioning him to talk. From what he knows from the small tidbits Matias has told him, the inventor hopped from town to town, never settling in one place. He doesn’t think Matias has ever lived in a town for a whole year.

“After my first few ‘village incidents’, I started to keep all my precious things, stuff I didn’t want to lose, in that toolbox. Just in case I ever needed to get out of town quickly. I didn’t need to worry about a heavy suitcase.”

Bruno fidgets with his ruana, struggling to think up any comforting words. He finally decides to just put his hand on Matias’.

Matias turns to Bruno, smile slowly returning. He grasps Bruno’s hands. “But this time, I… I think I want to stay. I’ve never felt so welcome here! Everyone is so welcoming and encouraging. I’ve never felt more at home! So, if you’ll allow it, I want to live in Encanto permanently.”

No sooner has Matias finished his sentence does Bruno shower him with kisses. Matias chuckles. “Is that a yes?”

“Of course! You’ll always have a home here!”

[saeaideen]

Random Megumi hc’s because I said so-

Insomniac- 100%

Seems like he’s really organized but a slob (but like normal teen boy slob)

Only reason his room is organized is because that what he does when he can’t sleep

Probably listens to Mr. Brightside on a weekly basis

Definitely a Weezer fan, it’s literally canon

Was put in hip hop classes by Gojo and now secretly sneaks off campus to go practice

Mans is a Capricorn so he’s low key crazy but really fun when he trusts you

Will initiate physical affection for things like hugs or putting an arm around someone

I really hc Megumi in the dub, not because it’s better, but because he’s so curt and snappy

Takes two showers a day, one hot one cold- don’t ask me why

I feel like he’s naturally good at video games

I also hc that he’s low key really competitive

Was forced to sit in the middle seat of a car because Yuji was taller and Nobara didn’t want to sit in the middle

Constantly debating trying to name his divine dogs and other shikigami because he tried it once before and it died

This happened when he was like 13 and it scared him for life

Doesn’t panic or cry when something major happens but hyperventilates and gets more snappy then usual

Stress level 200%

Zones in when writing reports for missions and doesn’t even notice when Yuji and Nobara enter his dorm and hang out there

He’s been going on Gojo’s grade 4 and below missions since he was in middle school

Neither of them told Tsumiki and she was pissed when she found out

Tried asking Gojo about his dad once when the topic came up and Gojo didn’t talk to Megumi for the rest of the day

Can cook simple dishes because Gojo also can cook minimal dishes

Picks up things really fast, martial arts, cooking, music, techniques

Really popular but he doesn’t know/doesn’t believe it

Says stupid stuff like “time for you to get a watch” when someone asks the time

City Boy™️

He literally grew up in Tokyo

Minimalist fashion but really expensive

He wears a lot of sunscreen

He burns super easily

Also has really sensitive skin

Doesn’t like the feeling of excessive body hair but doesn’t like the razor burns from shaving or the pain of waxing

Has occasional circle group time with the other first years

They all found out they were kiss virgins still and all felt embarrassed

He’s not a feminist because he’s always been taught to see everyone as equal no matter what they looked like

(Tsumiki taught him that ^)

Also is used to Maki and Nobara dealing with their own problems in the most aggressive feminine manner ever

Gojo made all kinds of dad jokes when he was younger so now that’s his go-to sense of humor

Not socially awkward but also not very interactive

Little kids are always drawn to him

He likes kids but doesn’t know how to deal with them

Saw a girl who looked like Tsumiki while out in Tokyo and freaked out

Doesn’t think he should see a therapist

Boy- look what’s happened to you

I think that he’d be a fan of Seinfeld

He thinks it’s hilarious and watches it over and over again

Also really liked that movie Rescued by Ruby and was devastated when he found out the dog who played Ruby died irl

Doesn’t get bug/mosquito bites???

The only reason he doesn’t like fiction books is because he finds all kinds of plot holes and hates it

History nerd- developed during the start of his non-fiction phase

Startled by the thought of aliens being real

Doesn’t like thinking of space or other universes, it hurts his brain

Definitely holds his breath when going over bridges

Probably calls out animals when driving past them

“Cows.” “Horses.” “Sheep.”

Yuji and Nobara are so done with him for doing this

He really likes the hole-in-the-wall and mom and pop restaurants

Probably has a solid 10 that he frequents and knows the owners on a personal level

[invisibleicewands]

Good Omens is back, thank heaven and hell, and with it Michael Sheen and David Tennant as the angel Aziraphale and the demon Crowley. Ahead of Prime Video’s second season following the cosmic characters created by Neil Gaiman and the late Terry Pratchett, io9 caught up with the fan-favorite stars.

(These interviews were conducted prior to the start of the SAG-AFTRA strike.)

Season one of Good Omens showed us Aziraphale and Crowley hanging out in the Garden of Eden. But as season two’s opening shows us, that wasn’t actually the first time they met. Turns out they had an encounter at the birth of the entire universe—and that’s where their first impressions of each other were formed.

“I think Aziraphale is very struck by Crowley,” Sheen said. “It’s hard to put a finger on what it is, but something about him makes Aziraphale’s ears prick up. And then almost immediately, as is always the way with Crowley, he gets annoyed by him. He gets infuriated by him, he gets intimidated by him. And very worried by him—Aziraphale always finds Crowley a worrying presence. He’s always rocking the boat. We see all those things at play in that first meeting in the second series—where he’s sort of drawn to him and kind of impressed by him, but very worried by him as well. And nothing changes really, as it moves on.”

Tennant reflects that Crowley didn’t quite have the same experience. “There’s certainly no sense to Crowley that this is someone who is going to become terribly important to him, so central to his very existence, but then Crowley’s still an angel at that point. He’s got a long journey to go on before he becomes the character that we get to know,” he said. “[In this scene] we get to see how central they were to the creation of it all—and how misjudged Crowley was in the way that he imagined the hierarchy of heaven to work. So it’s a rather delicious little snapshot that I think also helps to inform their relationship forever, really. And of course, when we then cut to present day, they’re still the same two that met all those millennia before. So it’s a very pleasing little way to open the series. It was the first thing that Neil shared with us of season two, and it just felt immediately ideal, I thought, that was how we should reconnect with these characters.”

Aziraphale and Crowley have been through a lot together; season one’s successful derailing of the apocalypse came after we witnessed their relationship being formed, cemented, and challenged—always challenged—over the centuries. Season two finds them in a reasonably comfortable place after having cut ties with their respective “employers,” who are still unsure what to make of them after the climactic events of season one. But there’s always room for chaos in Good Omens.

“They’re sort of like an old married couple by the time we pick up with them in season two,” Sheen said. “I think for Aziraphale, he’s gotten everything he’s always wanted—but he’s also very disconcerted by his situation. On the one hand, for a very long time, all he’s really wanted is to be able to sit in his bookshop and read books, and listen to music and eat nice food, and have cups of tea and the occasional hot chocolate, and then a nice bottle of wine and hang out with the being he most likes being with. He’s got that now. But at the same time, I think he’s always someone who has felt a great deal of security as being part of the company. He’s very much a company man in that respect. So being independent from heaven is very disconcerting for him; I suppose in some ways that makes him cling all the more to the relationship with Crowley. But it definitely feels like things have settled into that relationship now, and settled into committing to being on Earth surrounded by all manner of earthly things.”

Good Omens fans responded to the Aziraphale-Crowley relationship with great enthusiasm—and that’s putting it mildly. “It was both incredibly surprising and just wonderful,” Sheen said of season one’s reception. “I’ve never really experienced anything like that. David has had the whole Doctor Who experience and so was kind of more prepared for it. But it was very new to me and I absolutely loved it. It was just so wonderful to see how people responded creatively, with all the fanfiction and the art and the cosplaying and all of that, which is just amazing and breathtaking, to see the talent that they have, and how much people took these characters and their stories to heart. And then just seeing the community that developed as well ... [there was a] very diverse audience for this story and these characters, and seeing how much people were brought together and supporting each other and helping each other [as a result of Good Omens]... it felt like a real honor and a privilege to to be a little part of that.”

Tennant knows what it means to be the object of passionate fandom—and his time with Doctor Who isn’t over yet, since he’ll be leading the series’ 60th anniversary specials later this year—but he was still surprised by the tidal wave of love that Good Omens received. “I don’t think I’d quite understood how beloved this book was or these characters were until we were shooting it—and I kept meeting more and more people who who were so thrilled that we were making the show, but only but also a little bit worried that we might break their dreams,” he said. “So then it feels like you’re carrying a Ming vase across a minefield, and that you have to get this right, that you’re carrying a lot of dreams with you and a lot of expectations. To have it well received was a huge relief and hugely humbling actually, because it has meant so much to so many people over decades. Seeing all the Crowleys and Aziraphales coming to Comic-Con, and almost always as a duo, which I think is the loveliest thing—you very rarely see a Crowley or Aziraphale, you almost always see two best mates who’ve come together. And that, I think, is probably been the thing that tells me most of all that we got at least a part of it right. That’s what I feel very proud of, certainly.”

Good Omens season one had Gaiman and Pratchett’s novel to guide its story. Season two expands into new territory for the characters, but it’s still coming from the imaginations of its creators. “From the beginning, Neil always told us that he and Terry had thought much further ahead with the story than book one. We knew that there were all kinds of ideas and storylines that existed in Neal’s head that he and Terry had talked about and worked on. But at the same time, we had no idea that any of those would become a reality. We just thought we were doing a one-off story,” Sheen said. “That one-off story also happened to be a book that I had read when it came out, when I was in my late teens and that was a favorite of mine, and that one-half of the writing partnership was Neil Gaiman, who is probably one of my favorite writers of all time and whose work I love. So working on the adaptation of the book, it was both a sort of dream come true, but also a massive pressure because there was it felt like a huge responsibility. And also, strange to be bringing this story that I knew so well and these characters that I knew so well to life—sort of being on the inside of them. That was a very peculiar experience.”

Sheen continued. “So coming into series two, it did feel very different, yes, but kind of liberating in all kinds of ways—and especially once we got the scripts and we could see that they were terrific, and it felt very much like still being in the world of the first series, but getting to explore all kinds of new areas. It was really, really exciting. And it was very moving, coming back to the characters again. When I first put my costume back on, and my hair had been bleached again and all that, I suddenly saw [Aziraphale] looking out from the mirror—that was very moving. When David walked on to set, and I saw him for the first time—I was on set as Aziraphale, and he came on dressed as Crowley—that was very moving to see him. And for them to suddenly be together again was a very emotional moment.”

Tennant had a similar feeling coming into season two. “Neil had always told us that he and Terry had ambitions for a sequel, or at least they’d had discussions about it. There are some elements in series one that I think came from conversations that Neil and Terry had many years previously about where those characters might go,” he said. “It feels like we’re still part of the same continuum; only Neal knows really how much is completely new material and how much comes from ideas that might have been had between him and Terry many years ago. But it certainly feels like the same world and same story; it all felt very natural and sort of an organic evolution for these characters. It’s a very different type of story—it’s quite different structurally but it still feels like it’s part of the same world. It just felt like a pleasure, really, to be revisiting these characters and telling more stories with them.”

Sheen pointed out that even though Good Omens has a fantastical setting, it has very grounded themes. “I find that [the themes in] all of Neil’s work seem to be very similar, which is: we’re all human and we have to just look after each other. The themes come back to the simplest of things, [like] love, and being forgiving and kind, and accepting people’s flaws. That’s always what it comes back to with Neil,” he said. “I think the fact that he is able to weave these extraordinary, epic, mind-bending stories around that is why people respond [so strongly]. That isn’t going to change. That is always going to be the theme. But I suppose, in terms of the setting—if you thought the apocalypse was bad, just wait to see what’s coming down the road next.”

And what about the future? Both Sheen and Tennant said they’d absolutely want to return for more Good Omens, if that opportunity happens to come along. “From the very beginning, we found the characters both individually and as a relationship so enjoyable to play. It would be very difficult to not want to come back,” Sheen said.

“I think we are there to be further stories to be told and I imagine we’d be quite happy to tell them,” Tennant agreed, noting that the end of season two is “certainly teasing the idea that there might be another tale to tell at some point.”