pathetic isn’t really a word I‘d use for colin bridgerton. simon rather dying than marrying daphne was pathetic. anthony going through with marrying edwina until SHE mustered the courage to call everything off was pathetic.
colin contemplating his feelings, calling out his male acquaintances for their chauvinism, seeking advice from his mother and then immediately taking action and putting himself out there without even knowing if his feelings are reciprocated is the complete opposite of pathetic. that requires a whole lot of bravery.
author’s note: apparently all of the years i spent obsessed with rock bands have finally come in handy - this is the piece i had most fun with and am most proud of yet! i was introduced to the rockstar!bucky concept through @mrwinterr ‘s happy, which i highly encourage everyone to read it. please, remember reblogs/feedback are highly important and welcome! enjoy xx
summary: bucky plays guitar like a god and knows exactly how to put those fingers to good use – has the voice of an angel and the smile of a devil, a mixture of everything you’ve always wanted and everything you’re scared of. bucky’s only yours whenever the lights are off, for a short amount of time. call it groupie love.
warning(s): oral sex (female receiving), vaginal intercourse, dirty talk, fingering, cigarettes. oh, foul language and grammar errors too (not proofread btw)
Bucky Barnes was nothing but a charming, smug vocalist – and still, you were addicted to him.
Perhaps it was the lack of attainableness of such situation, the faux glamour of it all or how his eyes gleamed under neon lights. Oh, and how those fingers moved and gripped against his so beloved instrument – a Harmony Rocket guitar.
The Howlies is, as a matter of fact, a great band. Their sound was a mixture of old and modern, punk and fresh. They’re one of a kind, the sparkle needed in this godforsaken industry. Their lyrics genuinely have stuck with you ever since you first heard them, when you were merely a lost teenager. Perhaps you’re biased, but their latest record – 107 – is your favorite to date: maybe there’s even a lyric or two written about you in it (at least that’s what your brain tells you when you lay your head on a pillow).
At this point, you’ve lost count of how many of their gigs you’ve ever been to. At this point, you’ve memorized their set list. At this point, Bucky’s used to seeing you in the crowd – and more than used to the feeling of your skin rubbing against his.
Whenever he’s in town – or at least somewhere near it – he makes sure to shoot you a text. A handful of simple words that never fail to make butterflies rebel in your stomach: every time, without fail, you smile at the pixels on your cell’s screen. Texting isn’t foreign territory to the two of you – even some occasional calls happen every once in a while, usually when he’s horny and in another time zone. The fact that your voice alone can make him cum sends a shiver down your spine.
Barnes doesn’t have to let you know he’s in town; you’re well past that point. It’s just a confirmation that he wants you at the show – and that you’ll end up in his arms by the end of the night.
guys, i don’t wanna sound like a broken record - but we need to talk about this.
i understand that a lot of people on this platform are ghost readers, i know. i used to be one myself before i got into writing.
please, please reblog people’s work. at least comment. send an ask saying about how much you liked it, or even tell a friend about the creator’s work.
this fandom is slowly dying - a bunch of writers have either quit or switched platforms because the lack of interaction with our works are fucking unbearable.
HAPPY BIRTHDAY CAIT OMFG i can’t believe so many of the coolest ppl in my life that i know are aquas. ily you’re NINETEEN that’s wild!! you know i love a good roommates or friends w benefits fic gimme gimme gimme 😗💜
a/n: THIS IS SO LATE AGH...here is your long overdue wanda x reader roommates fic, my love! so sorry for the wait, but thank you for your sweet words and your patience <3 @subtlebucky
pairing: wanda maximoff x reader
warnings: none really? maybe a curse. references to drinking, partying. jealous! reader. apologies to anyone named jillian, beck, or yasmine. sharing a bed, but not in THAT way.
WHEN YOU WAKE UP, you smell coffee already brewing. You stretch leisurely as you pad into the main part of your shared apartment, faux-flirtatious smile already gracing your lips.
“Smells good, baby!” You call. The laughter dissipates from your body as you pause in the kitchen doorway. Wanda is indeed sipping coffee in the kitchen, but is also standing between the legs of a tall, rather buff girl you’ve never seen before who’s perched comfortably on your island. “Oh.”
"Jill, this is my roommate, Y/N," Wanda says, perfectly at ease. You wonder if your eye really does twitch at the sight of Wanda's hand on Jill's thigh, but you pray it's just your imagination.
“Hi, uh, I didn’t - we’re not - hi.” Your face burns as you duck past them, reaching up into the cabinet for your mug before realizing it’s missing. You whirl around, about to ask Wanda, when you see it. And Wanda must realize it the same time you do, because she gives you this tight smile and wide eyes. Jill sips idly from your favorite cup, the one with the funny handle and your initial in rainbow gradient. Pietro, Wanda’s brother, had gifted it to you a few Christmas’s back - you know he’d have stopped Jillian from using it. Instead, you fill the most boring mug you and Wanda own - black, with a white outline of Sokovia in a red heart - and send your roommate a sour look. “I’ll just...”
You jerk your head towards the bedrooms, and stalk off. Maybe out of embarrassment, but mostly out of stubbornness, you pretend not to hear Wanda apologizing and making excuses on your behalf as you leave.
.......
Two weeks later, just when things are returning to normal, it happens again.
Well, more or less. It’s significantly darker out now, and this time you’re putting leftover Chinese food in the fridge when the door bursts open. Wanda all but falls into your apartment, a sharp-nosed girl with a deep violet buzzcut hot on her heels. Space Army Cadet and your best friend are hand in hand, the latter barely tossing you a glance as she drags her guest down the hall. And yeah, you’ve seen Wanda bring people home before - even brought a handful of people home yourself. Hell, one of you two’s closest friends was an ex of hers; oddball physics major, Vis, had been Wanda’s lover for the notable first three years of college.
Lately, though, you’d noticed this...pit in your stomach, carved a little deeper with each new bedmate. Every time you shook it off - it wasn’t any of your business what Wanda did in her free time. Was it because they were women? You catch yourself wondering, but no - you’d never had an issue with that, why would you start now? Shutting the fridge, you shuffle back to your room, turning your TV up to drown out anything from Wanda’s room next door.
The next morning, the eccentric friend is nowhere to be found, but you did find there was a severe lack of alcohol in your coffee as Wanda cheerily filled you in. Buzzcut’s name was Yasmine, she was in Wanda’s European lit. course, and they’d gone out for drinks to celebrate Yasmine nearing the acquirement of her masters. You stare into your cup and hum at all the appropriate points, choosing not to point out that it was only November and nowhere near graduating season. Maybe Yasmine was on the fast track - Wanda always did like the smart ones.
You become so absorbed in thought you don’t notice at first that your housemate has stopped chittering away. When you look up, it’s to a pouty frown. You shift in your seat, suddenly uncomfortable. “What?”
“Are you...okay?” Wanda’s frown deepens, brows furrowed as she brushes a stray lock of auburn from her face and folds her arms over her chest. “We...You’ve been a little distant lately, I guess.”
“I’m fine,” You say breezily, rising to your feet to dump the dregs of your coffee in the sink. Some irritating heartstring twangs at your tone - you hate brushing Wanda off, but what are you supposed to say? Hey, can you stop bringing girls home? I think I’ve caught homophobia. You repress a shudder at the mere thought as you move to sweep past her and get ready for your first class, but a small hand curls around your bicep.
“Just...don’t be a stranger, okay, kedvesem?” Darling. Swallowing the lump in your throat, feeling curiously parched, you can only nod. Wanda lets go, but you can feel her fingerprints burning like a brand even when you’re lying in bed that night.
.....
The holidays go off more or less without a hitch; there’s a very scary hiccup shortly before Christmas when you come home to find Wanda curled into Vision’s side on the couch, the pair of them sharing a blanket. But Wanda looks...as if she’s been crying? Love Actually is playing, Wanda’s go to Christmas comfort movie, and Vision is texting someone called ‘Peter M.’ with an alarming number of heart emojis, so you continue onward.
Your subconscious must be looking out for you otherwise, because it’s not until New Year’s that you see Wanda with a mystery lover. Actually, you don’t see much of Wanda at all outside of Christmas, and even when you do, it’s always just the two of you at home. Of course, because of this, she insists on dragging you out for a New Year’s party. When her twin, Pietro, gangs up on you via Facetime, you give up arguing and steal a shimmery black slip from Wanda’s closet before flipping them the bird.
Pietro arrives around 10 to pick the pair of you up, obnoxiously laying on the horn outside of your apartment building. Wanda trips several times as she tries to shove on her other heel and put lipstick on at the same time. Making it out the door is a whole other ordeal - after a short spat about Wanda needing a jacket, an awkward moment when the elevator doors open on some neighbors practicing for midnight, and finding Pietro just about to buzz in to get you, you and Wanda are sliding into the backseat of Pietro’s obnoxiously cramped sports car.
“Ladies, your prince, or princess, awaits!” Pietro announces grandly as you pull up to a shabby loft just a few blocks away. You can hear the music from the street, sighing inwardly as you force yourself to get out of the car. Wanda smooths out her flowy black pants - you keep your eyes trained politely above her shoulders to ignore the fitted, maroon sequined top with the plunging V-neck she’s paired with them.
“I’m actually meeting someone here,” She says casually to her brother as the three of you make your way in. Pietro waves her off with well-wishes, but throws you a questioning glance. All he gets however is a shrug in reply, this is certainly news to you. He accompanies you to the makeshift bar where you fill a cup with copious amounts of liquor. It usually wasn’t your vice, but the strobe lights alone could be cause to drink. You made a mental note to ask whose idea this party even was in the first place. when you turn around, though, Pietro, too, has slipped off into the crowd.
So you do what one is supposed to do at sweaty, too-loud functions such as this one - push yourself from your comfort zone, get comfortably tipsy while you wedge yourself into the mass of bodies and move with strangers. As mentioned, liquor and strangers have never been favorite pastimes of yours, so once you finish off your second drink (maybe third - you deserved it), you set out searching for Wanda. Her glittery form is tucked into a corner with a small group you don’t recognize, but you definitely note that she’s in the lap of a tall, dark, and handsome type. She spots you before you can get to her, making excited grabby hands as you get closer.
“Y/N!” The bubbly young woman squeals over the music. She leans forward to be heard better, and you gulp. “This is Beck! And Jade, and Marcie, and you remember Yasmine!”
You offer only a wave and tight smiles as you, too, lean in further. “I’m gonna get an Uber!”
“What?” Wanda pouts dramatically, Beck snaking an arm around her waist to steady her as she jolts back in disappointment. “It’s not even midnight yet!”
“No, I know, I’m just not really feeling it, I guess!” Yasmine leads over to whisper something to Jade; it’s the furthest thing from your mind as Wanda reaches out to squeeze your hands understandingly.
“I’ll see you later! Kisses!” You repeat the word weakly before shoving once more through the mass. The sidewalk and cool bite of the outdoors is a welcome respite - your driver doesn’t speak all the way to your apartment, and you give them 5 stars for it. After a cold, quick shower, you curl up in your fuzziest bathrobe with a cup of coffee and flick through Netflix. You know when midnight rolls around when the neighbors upstairs, hosting a party of their own, cheer and shout to each other. It can’t be 20 minutes later that your door is met with a tentative knock.
On the other side is Vision in the most disarray you’ve seen him in - he’s in pajamas, for Pete’s sake, hair and glasses askew over a chunky knit sweater. He’s supporting an equally-bleary but much more drunk Wanda, and passes her to you with a wrinkled nose.
“Y/N!” She crows, dissolving into giggles as you shushed her. “I wondered where you went.”
“I told you I was coming home, bubs,” You mutter, hugging her back briefly before you notice Vision is still standing in your entryway. “Hey, how about you go get changed, and then I’ll make you some eggs?”
Wanda agrees, talking animatedly even as she walks away. You look back at Vision, smiling wearily. “Thanks for bringing her home safe, Vis. Did you want a cup of coffee, or...?”
“No, thank you,” Vision quips, polite as ever as he tugs his sweater down over his hands. He jerks his dimpled chin the direction Wanda had disappeared in. “Take care of her, please.”
“Of course,” You reply, instantly, brows furrowing. He nods briskly before turning to leave. “Thank you again.”
“Of course. Goodnight.” He’s almost to the elevators when you call a ‘Happy New Year’ after him, and that earns you a smile. “Happy New Year to you as well, Y/N.”
Back inside, you find Wanda spread eagle on her bed in mismatched socks, an old college hoodie, and the same underwear you’re pretty sure she wore to go out tonight. You poke her heel and she makes a frankly unhuman gurgle into the duvet. “How much did you have?”
“Nah a lah,” Is her muffled reply. “We’on dwink anymo’.”
You realize she’s right, though you figured she was at least taking some of those dates to bars. Maybe not, though - Wanda was always a romantic. You push the mere though away and tug at the arm closest to you. “Yeah, I know. You’ll feel better if you eat something, though.”
Her protesting grunts are less effective than when she kicks out blindly, narrowly avoiding your hip, and you huff. “Fine, I’ll bring the food to you.”
You make to leave, but she’s captured your wrist now. Wanda turns her head to make powerful puppy eyes at you. “Stay. Sleepy.”
“I...yeah. Okay.” You were still a little tipsy in your own right - neither of you were college kids anymore, after all. Wanda’s smile was blinding as the pair of you made your way under her numerous layers of blankets. When she turned the lamp off, you wondered if she could hear your heart thundering in the dark.
“Y/N?” She whispers, just when you think she’s fallen asleep.
“Yes, Wanda?”
“I love you.”
You hum in acknowledgment, brushing it off as dreaming.
--------
Midday, you’re roused by someone laying across your stomach and shaking you awake. It’s Wanda, long lashes fluttering prettily as she rests her chin on folded elbows. You scrub sleep from your eyes as you croak, “Morning, sunshine.”
“Morning, Y/N.” She says your name with purpose - sort of always has, you realize. You’re running over last night in your head, and like a mind reader, Wanda answers your every question. “Hey.”
“Yeah?”
“Still love you.” Wanda murmurs. You meet her gaze - completely clear, if not a little glazed over with absolute adoration. She pushes up a little, lips hovering over yours. They brush just barely when you speak, sparking like live wires.
“I love you, too,” You breathe, and finally, finally, she kisses you.
NSFW in this one, 18+ and over only, please. 300 ish words.
Thank you @galaxy-barnes for inspiring me with this one 😉
Competition was good. It was healthy. It brought people together, and helped drive them to new heights. Sure, sometimes it could lead to tears, or even broken friendships, but sometimes it could lead to something new... something better.
Sams head rolled back on his neck, his mouth parted to the ceiling as his breath came in pants. He had come home tired after training with new recruits, after teaching them how to fight and to shoot. He had stepped into the door of their apartment hoping for a burger, and a shower, and that was it.
Instead he was met with four hands and two mouths, and the whispered promises of making him beg.
Apparently the sight of him fighting had sent Sharon and Bucky into a spin, and now they both wanted to ruin him... maybe that shower could wait after all...
Sharon’s hand was wrapped around him - Sam made a mental note to tell her how pretty the blue nail polish looked - and Bucky worked on sucking a bruise into his neck. Her tongue, warm and wet, travelled up the length of him, as Bucky made his way down his body, leaving hot kisses that cooled in the air.
Two mouths fought for dominance over him, two sets of lips - both soft as silk, but one pair wearing scarlet red lipstick - alternating between sucking him down or whispering sinful delights that had Sam fisting the sheets until sweat gleamed on his skin.
They worked him for an hour like this, sending Sam higher and higher until he begged to the stars that he couldn’t see. They gave him mercy when Sharon pulled him between her legs, letting him sink into her on a groan. Bucky moved behind him, moved in him, his cool metal arm around his waist, and his warm right hand over Sharon’s throat.
None of them lasted long, but that wasn’t really the point. They loved together, they came together, and they fought together. Sometimes, it was just nice to bely the danger with some fun.
this little tidbit lives in my mind rent free...marvel is one of the few fandoms where i’m pretty flexible with shipping and i have never been so grateful for that.
This is from forever ago and I’ve recently been able to find my answer to it. My favorite word is ‘phantasmagoric’ - it decribes something with a dreamlike, fantastical quality, and I just think it’s both very cool in meaning and to say:)
daddy bruce does have p flexible rules bc he tries so hard not to keep his anger in check and i think that goes for everything but
that doesn’t mean he’s opposed to punishment - usually spankings, he’ll edge you but he loves to see you cum
you were talking about trust and it got me thinking ab how much bruce would love intimacy?
like yeah he’s a little awkward at first but you two hit it off right away so having your trust and being able to see you at your most vulnerable...chef’s kiss
sex is passionate but also loving? no matter how angry or frustrated he is or how hard of a day he’s had, he always makes sure you cum and he always makes you feel adored
aftercare w bruce!! would be so sweet i can’t even elaborate i’m squealing j thinking
bubble baths together, bruce gently cleaning you both up before you go to bed, tucking you in and reading you to sleep (his voice knocks you out even if he’s reading a scientific article or the freaking newspaper)
post sex cuddles!!
talk to me about protective! daddy bruce...you’re known to be a little bit of a risk taker on missions and he hates it especially once your relationship develops
he’s so careful about hulking out and not being too too rough with you but say you cut it a little too close and he’s furious
nerd daddy pin me down and tell me how scared you were to lose me while you p o u n d me!!
