#;; ALSO THEIR LITTLE EYES !!! WHEN THEY'RE STARING THEY'RE JUST LIKE 🥺

[gothicfied]

a fic where Dae-Ho (or anyone) comforts a reader to bed because she/he is haunted by seeing people getting shot, blood and etc. Pretty please?🥺 He also is on watch during lights out and comforts them again while noticing them having reoccurring nightmares and mumbling in their sleep. You could also turn this the other way around because my boy Dae-Ho needs some comfort too! 😖

love your fics and past work btw!! ^^

Sleepless Nights - Kang Dae-ho / Player 388

Pairing: Kang Dae-ho / Player 388 x Reader

Summary: After past trauma from being a marine, Dae-ho isn't handling the circumstances of the games well. Thankfully, you're there when he needed you the most.

Warnings: Mentions of death/dying, gunshots, PTSD (typical squid game stuff), other than that it's fluff/comfort, not proof read (english isn't my first language)

Word count: 812 Words

A/N: hii and thank you sm! I loved this idea actually🙏🙏

Your eyes hurt from staying up so long, counting down the seconds until it was Dae-ho's turn to be on watch. The night was grueling and long — all you could do was stare ahead and think about all the past decisions that led you here. I shouldn't have done this, I could've done that.. you were just breaking your mind like that. After you almost nodded to sleep *again*, you decided this was the best time to wake your friend up and get some well deserved rest.

Quietly, you shuffled to the mattresses Gi-hun had your group set up, searching for Dae-ho in the dark. When you spotted his jacket from behind, the number '388' still readable with little to no light, you went to tap him on the shoulder. That was before you noticed him jolting and breathing quite heavily in his sleep, his face contorted with something like fear. Oh, he was having a nightmare. What are you supposed to do now? Wake him up to free him from his dream? Or should you just leave him be? Would that be bad?

While you were slightly panicking, Dae-ho woke up himself from feeling someone looming over him. His eyes immediately darted to you and he quickly sat up, like he was ready to fight you. "Hey.. hey, it's okay! It's me." you whispered, backing up a bit to give him some space. Dae-ho blinked a couple of times, his mind still reeling with the thoughts of his nightmare. The one that was reoccurring ever since he got here. The man took a deep breath and dropped his head down for a moment, just staring at his lap. "Are.. you okay? Did you have a nightmare?"

Dae-ho simply nodded and smiled, trying to make it seem like it wasn't a big deal. "Yeah, don't worry about me. This happens.. all the time." The shakiness of his voice suggested otherwise. "Is it my time to be on watch?" With a confused, and slightly concerned, look you slowly nodded shifting a bit. Dae-ho slowly stood up, as not to disturb Jun-hee who was sleeping right beside him, and took another deep breath. "Are you actually okay? You seem really shaken up. Is there anything I can do for you?"

Dae-ho smiled again, this time genuinely, silently appreciating your concern. "No.. no, I don't want to bother you. You need to sleep, come on." He pointed down at the mattress, signaling for you to just lay down and let him handle his own business. That's how he always did it anyway, he didn't like to feel like his problems were burdening others, especially in here. "No, don't be ridiculous. I'll sit down with you for a second." So, you just took Dae-ho's hand and led him to the designated spot a bit further away from your sleeping space. The blue 'O' and the red 'X' on the floor illuminated the whole area, the light of both reflecting on his face.

"I've had this nightmare since I got here." Dae-ho started the conversation again, his eyes glued to the big metal door, where the pink guards would always emerge from. "This whole thing.. people getting shot, people dying all because they're in debt," his voice was barely above a whisper, "it's so messed up. I'm a marine.. I should be- Oh, I don't know. It reminds me of all the things I had to facd while serving this country." You nodded along, letting out a 'mhm' to show him you were listening. You didn't really think about it that way at all — Of course this would affect him so much, he probably had PTSD.

"I can't say that I know what that feels like, but I definitely understand." you whispered back, slowly turning your head to look at him. You felt really bad, but you also didn't know how to better the situation. All you could do is wish that this nightmare would soon end with everyone finally coming to their senses and voting 'X'. Dae-ho scrunched his nose, now burying his face in his hands. You couldn't tell if he was crying or was still shaken up, but you put your arm around him nonetheless. Like he always did with you when you were scared or stressed.

Feeling your arm around him, Dae-ho took this as an invitation and immediately wrapped his arms around you, pulling you into a tight hug. "Thank you for being here with me." he mumbled into your shoulder, hiding his face in the crook of your neck. Your expression softened, hugging him back after a few moments. His skin felt hot against yours and it kind of felt like he was suffocating you with his arms, but you couldn't be happier when Dae-ho expressed his gratitude.

"Of course. I'll stay up with you for a little bit longer, okay?"

[harrysfolklore]

how is piastri sis feeling with this being carlos last ferrari race? cuz i’m feeling emotional

AHHH CARLOS' LAST RACE WITH FERRARI 🥺 im so emo but also really really proud of him. and so is our girl piastri sis. enjoy!

READ LITTLE BITCH HERE

The motorhome is quiet, the usual post-race bustle muted by the weight of finality. Carlos sits on the couch, still in his race suit with the Ferrari logo that's no longer his, staring at nothing. You watch him from the doorway, heart aching at the emotion written across his face.

"I can hear you thinking from here," he says softly, not looking up.

You move to sit beside him, taking his hand. His fingers automatically intertwine with yours, a habit now.

"I keep thinking about what I said," your voice is barely a whisper. "At the beginning of the season. About hoping you wouldn't find a seat."

"Mi amor-"

"No, let me finish," you squeeze his hand. "Seeing you now, knowing how much the Ferrari exit hurt... I was so cruel. So insensitive. Just because I was angry about Oscar-"

"You apologized months ago," he turns to face you, eyes soft. "Went we grabbed sushi and said you were sorry for being harsh."

"I know, but..." you touch his face. "Watching you take that last lap today, seeing how emotional you were on team radio... it just hit me again how horrible those words were. How much you were already hurting when I said them."

He catches your hand, kissing your palm. "I wasn't exactly kind to you either back then. Or to Oscar on track."

"Still-"

"No, listen," he pulls you closer. "That comment? It led to our first real conversation. When you apologized, I knew something had shifted. And now look at us."

You lean into him, remembering how that sushi outing led to him kissing you after, and changing everything forever.

"Besides," he continues with a small smile, "I did find a seat. Williams is excited to have me. And more importantly..." he kisses your forehead, "I found you."

"Smooth little bitch," you murmur against his chest.

"It's true though," his voice gets serious. "Leaving Ferrari hurts, yes. But this year? Getting to know you, falling in love with you? It's worth every painful moment."

"Even when I was being a protective sister?"

"Even then," he chuckles. "Though I prefer when you're being a protective girlfriend now."

You look up at him. "I'm so proud of how you handled everything this year. The Ferrari news, the criticism, the uncertainty... you stayed professional through it all."

"Had someone pretty amazing supporting me," he pulls you into his lap. "Someone who went from hating me to loving me."

"I never really hated you," you protest. "I just... strongly disliked your on-track decisions."

He laughs properly then, the sound chasing away some of the melancholy. "And now?"

"Now I strongly like everything about you," you kiss him softly. "Even your questionable racing moves."

"Hey!"

"Kidding," you stroke his cheek. "I'm so excited to see you at Williams. They're lucky to have you."

He holds you tighter. "Will you wear their merch next year?"

"Of course. But I'm keeping one Ferrari shirt."

"Oh?"

"Your race-worn one from today," you smile. "For memories."

His eyes get emotional again. "I love you. So much."

"I love you too," you rest your forehead against his. "Ferrari chapter is closing, but we're just getting started."

He kisses you deeply, pouring everything he can't say into it.

Later, Oscar sends a photo to the group chat Of Carlos's last Ferrari lap with you watching from the garage, wearing his team shirt.

"From enemies to this. Still wild."

Carlos saves it immediately because sometimes the best endings lead to better beginnings. And sometimes "I hope you don't find a seat" turns into "I hope you never leave my side"

[rayroseu]

I love how Meleanor's dragon form can serve as little hints about how Malleus grew up as a dragon🥹💚🐉🦎

source

Comparing the frills on their cheeks... it seems like their frills grows with age and gets lighter and more connected to their eyes, it seems to get more purple skin/highlights as well.

In contrast to Meleanor's adult dragon form with hard scales, Little Malleus seem to have softer skin/scales, so i think their hard scales develop over time too. Also their snout gets more patterned too.

The spikes on their backs seems to separate as they get larger. Looking at Little Malleus, he has spikes that are close to each other yet on Meleanor's spikes, they're kind of sectioned in her head, torso, and her tail.

Their horns grows darker as it gets taller. Its noticeable on the horns of their head and on the wings.

Their horns also get more ridges over their development! Since Baby Malleus has smooth horns but now in Malleus' grown up form and Meleanor's, its more textured.

I think their horns are purple at the start then starts to get dark green??? Both Meleanor and Malleus' horns in card art always have green highlights after all.

I wonder if they're more green-colored in their human form bcs it symbolizes their empathy and how they're more humane and how connected to nature they are, but when they're in their dragon form, that green-color is reserved only in their internal organs (eyes and mouth), so "they shut their kindness off".

As a result, their form is mostly dark purple on their dragon form, the color of (evil?) void magic. So, its like when theyre in their dragon form, they're encasing their empathy inside to showcase how cruel/sinister they actually are, it could also convey that in their dragon form, they're not channelling their "fae magic" but their controlled power over "darkness/evil/hell"

Malleus after all said, he's the ruler of those who follow the darkness, Meleanor is the evil princess, and Maleficent has all the powers of hell.

Also I realized Meleanor (based on the Battle pic), might be as big as a entire castle and that's just her at ~300 years old... She looks like she could wrap her own castle with just her dragon form lol.. So I'm really curious at how massive Malleus dragon form is... Maybe its Ramshackle size for now since he's just 178 years old so might not be a dragon at a size of an entire castle yet-

These are just my thoughts after staring at Meleanor for so long kwhkdhsk also bcs I want more Baby Malleus content,,,, It's what Meleanor would've wished😔😔 especially the time where he first transformed into a human🥺💕💝 I think it'll be precious to see Baby Malleus clutching to Lilia for dear life because he can't balance on two human legs jdkdhlssj🥹🥹💝💖💖 Imagine Lilia's surprise seeing Meleanor's horns on their kid as soon as Malleus transformed to a human,,, 🥹🥹🥹 Levan, where are your genes...

[starmocha]

I've placed a self-ban on myself from posting any new Sylus fics until I finish Bride of the Dragon King. 😔👉👈

But just know, I will absolutely write this scenario into a proper story eventually 😤

[ Masterlist ★ Series Index ]

Sylus + Little Birdie ☆ Daddy is a Kitty?

During one family weekend in Linkon City while visiting Meow's Café, Sylus has, once again, offended the kitties. They immediately punish him and turn him into a caracal. Again.

Sylus is irate.

He is sitting in a booth, legs and arms crossed, silently fuming, already plotting to buy Meow's Café just so he can bulldoze it.

You're frantically appealing to OTTO Manager who feels just as helpless (omg someone pls save OTTO Manager, they're not paid to deal with any of this BS)

The kitties are meowing loudly, rebelling, and yelling about how Sylus deserves this, and they refuse to change him back 😾

Little Birdie stares in wonder amidst all of the commotion and chaos.

Slowly, she walks over and climbs onto the booth, and then into Sylus' lap.

Sylus is lost in his head, too angry to even notice her. He is just acting on his paternal instinct when he steadied her to keep her from falling.

She reaches up and lightly touches one ear. It twitches. She giggles. She gently scratches Sylus' new ear.

The café suddenly goes quiet as everyone hears a soft voice singing:

🎶 Soft kitty, warm kitty, little ball of fur. Happy kitty, sleepy kitty. Purr, purr, purr. 🎶

Sylus closes his eyes and unwittingly starts to purr.

He suddenly breaks out of his trance, and he looks down, surprised to see his daughter smiling up at him.

She had sensed Sylus' anger earlier, so she asks with a soft, sweet smile, "Does Daddy feel better now? 🥹"

Sylus' face softens. He smiles and leans down to kiss her cheek. He is still mad that he was turned into a caracal again, but seeing his daughter's sweet smiling face calms him down immediately.

"Yes, baby, I feel better now," he answers, giving her a hug and another kiss on her cheek.

The kitties are touched by this scene and unanimously agree to reverse his punishment. 😺😸

BONUS SCENES

Sylus sings 'Soft Kitty' with his daughter and the kitties are mad again 😾 (at him, of course 😔)

One month punishment as a caracal and he is also banned from Meow's Café for the duration of his sentence.

You're dismayed.

Baby Birdie is delighted. "YAY KITTY DADDY."

Sylus shrugs, resigned.

[Later at home in the N109 Zone]

Normally, your daughter is very easy to put to bed, but tonight she is insisting on only wanting kitty daddy to put her to bed and sing her a lullaby. (Poor child is also tone deaf and is the only one who enjoys Sylus' singing 😔 /J)

"Daddy is taking a shower right now, baby. Come on, Mommy can sing you a lullaby. Better than Daddy as well..."

Baby Birdie is disappointed, but she doesn't fight you on this. "Can Daddy sing me to sleep tomorrow, Mommy? 🥺"

"Of course, baby. 🙂" (You @ you: WHY DOES SHE LIKE HIS SINGING SO MUCH??? 😐😮‍💨😭)

You manage to get her to sleep eventually and when you return to the master bedroom, you find Sylus is already in bed.

"She's finally asleep," you tell him, exhausted. "She only wants kitty daddy right now."

He smirks, amused. His ears twitch, and his tail sways from side to side.

When you get into bed, you notice Sylus is...very frisky.

"Sy-SYLUS???"

He laughs and grins lecherously. "Isn't it time for us kitties to play?"

"We made such a cute daughter already," he continues, unabashed, "Maybe it's time we start on our next...'litter,' and give her siblings. 😈"

[THE END BECAUSE THIS IS A ✨️WHOLESOME SERIES✨️ OK. I WRITE ENOUGH SYLUS BREEDING FICS ALREADY. 😔

But something something implications and something something Sylus needing to rut because of his feline instincts rn 😔😔😔]

[ssahotchnerr]

hiii!!! i have a little christmas hotch idea for you🥹 the bau doing the secret santa thing and you get hotch! you put alot of thought into his gift and he is so touched when he opens it🥹 the bau had done it in the past but whenever someone got hotch they didn't really know what to get him so he would always end up with a new tie or a mug that says something like worlds best boss but then he sees what you got him and his heart melts🥺 there's no established relationship but you're both pining for eachother so hard.maybe hotch also gets you and was nervous he put TOO much thought into your gift but when he sees you did the same thing he feels better about it

love your writing btw it's always so comforting<3

🥹🥹🥹🥹 thank you my sweet!!!!

when the team was choosing names, you were nearly besides yourself with nerves because you wanted to pick aaron so. badly. <333 you thought perhaps after having a crush on him forever and not knowing how to act on it, or if you should even act on it, this would somehow be an opening to introducing something more. you felt crazy for thinking this way, but crazier things have happened, so who knows???

you were hopeful, but you also didn't think you would pick him 😭 your odds weren't the greatest, choosing him wasn't guaranteed, so you were stressing big time. you found yourself literally crossing your fingers behind your back 😭

hehe BUT your heart literally did jumping jacks when you unfolded your paper and saw his name 🥹!!!!!!! you tried your hardest to not visibly react, to be as nonchalant as the others after they picked - you had to bite the inside of your cheeks to keep from smiling 🥰 but, your cheeks couldn't help but blush as well 🤭

emily, who had been suspicious about your feelings for aaron, (she's noticed your lingering stares, being flustered whenever you interacted with him, and so on) teasingly said "oh, happy with your choice?" 🤭🤭🤭😏😏😏😏

you merely shrugged in response🤭, all while avoiding eye contact with aaron and then hurrying away LOL 😭🥹 but meanwhile, aaron was stealing glances at you 👀💞 hoping he'd pick you, or you had picked him. you weren't the only one wishfully thinking 🫢

and so, the perfect gift hunting began!!! you wanted to get him something that was special, but not overly special, so you were overthinking it tons. just... what do you get your very highly attractive boss, who you've had a crush on forever.

so you decide on something that makes him feel seen 🥹 as team leader and just being Hotch, he's overlooked in a way because he's in that more authoritative role - he may be team leader, but he's still part of the 'team' if that makes sense. you wanted to give him the reminder 🥺

hehe your affection for aaron really came in handy - you've paid way more attention to him, to what he says, and more as a result. so you use that as an advantage and your gift guide 🥰 a few ideas - the coffee pot in his office stops working? you get him a new one. on the jet, he mentions how disorganized his go-bag can be, so you get him packing cubes to help sort/keep things together. aaron says there's a band he really likes and a while back he said he got a record player, you get him the vinyl <333 and to complete your gift, you get aaron his favorite candy 🥹 (which he never verbally said he liked!!! you've seen him eating it numerous times before🥹)

they're small things, but they're meaningful, and aaron is beyond shocked when he opens your gift 🥹🥹🥹 he's touched, and is taken aback (in a good way of course💞🥰) by the fact you listen. you really listen.

AHHH the smiles you give each other afterwards 🥰🥰🥰🥰 spencer is now giving his gift to jj, and your and aaron's eyes find each other 🥹 hehe hearts are practically shooting out of his eyes as his lips turn upwards soooo sweetly and you could melt right there 🥹 (and emily is just 👀 at the two of you). he says "thank you" again, one only you can hear 🥹

and if aaron were to have you for secret santa!!!! it's vice versa, he listens to you - he knows what you like, and you had no idea he listened to what you thought were silly little rambles 🥰🥰💞 he's paid attention, which blows you away because maybe, just maybe?, he feels something too <333

💞 hehe who knows, maybe you'll get a new year's kiss at penelope's end of year party 🫢 it's the start of something new <333

[goldenstring6123]

This happen to my bestie last week ajsjsjsjsns

She came to school all moody instead of cheery and vibrant and it's not normal to see her like that– I asked what happened, at first she doesn't speaks and just shook her head. Like, 20 minutes later, she suddenly cried. I was there next to her and comfort her, (I literally get all concerned and panicked)

During break, I asked again why she is like that and she told me that her mom told her to die out of frustration (Like– girl, wth) it is all because her little sister overslept and make her late for school. And her mother also late for works.

So, can I ask how LaDS men comfort their partner when they're feeling down? 🥺🥺

Thanks ♡⁠(⁠Ӧ⁠ｖ⁠Ӧ⁠｡⁠)

Lnds: Comfort for a crying heart

Warning: Comfort. GN!Reader

Author's note: I'm sorry to hear that about your bestie, no person should ever be told that especially by their mother. I'm sending my hugs to you, your bestie and everyone who's having a hard time! You have my full love and support!

Zayne: The Patient Comforter

Zayne never sensed the shift in your personality that day. He knew there was something different with you, but he didn't think much of it, considering it was morning time. When he got home after work, he found it odd that his house was very silent. It was as if it had gone back to the days when you hadn't moved in yet. He entered your shared bedroom and found you sleeping, but it was odd, too, because the room was too dark and the air was too dry.

He changed his clothes and tucked himself into bed, but unlike his usual routine, he wrapped his hand around your waist and buried his nose in your hair. You were running hot, and simply by that alone, he knew you had been crying. He hugged you while you sobbed quietly and tried to catch your breath.

"It will be alright, honey," he would whisper to you and rub your arms. When you rolled over to him, you immediately buried your face in his chest. There was nothing to say to him at all; it was just one of those bad days when all the bad things chose to be at the forefront of your mind. Zayne stroked your hair and pulled you in closer to his chest, not minding the snot and tear marks you were making on his gray shirt.

When you let go of him and scooted back a little, he went to the kitchen and brewed you tea. He came back and handed it to you while waiting to see if you wanted to tell him how you felt. You looked so tired in his eyes, so he was very, very patient with you. You both talked to each other for a good hour or two, and Zayne listened intently, asking you how you felt.

He wiped your tears for you and lent you his shoulder when you spoke. His hand held onto yours, and his thumb brushed the back of your palm while you cried again.

Rafayel: The Comforting Joker

Rafayel is more perceptive than you thought. The moment you stepped into his house, he could see that you were in a bad mood. He stared at you, and the first thing he asked was, "Why the long face?" which was pretty odd considering that you were smiling.

You thought you were holding it in so well, but when he asked that question, everything seemed to slowly topple down in an instant. You found a way to distract yourself in his home, but Rafayel was having none of it. He looked so serious about it, and not a single hint of teasing escaped his mouth.

His frown made you frown as well. You decided to give in and tell him what was wrong, how you felt heavy when you woke up in the morning, and how things seemed to go wrong the moment you got out of bed. The moment a single tear fell down your cheek, Rafayel pulled you into a tight, long hug. He said a lot of stuff to try and cheer you up, and he did his best to make you laugh even if it made him look stupid; he didn't mind doing it for you.

Along the way, he talked about how he'd rate bomb that rude store and punch that post you walked into, and as stupid as that sounded, you managed to let out a stupid laugh. When Rafayel saw that, he was more than glad to see you slowly getting back on your feet.

Throughout the whole day, he gave in to your whims, doing things that you liked and eating the food you wanted to eat at that moment. He acted all cutesy for you because he knew you liked that about him the most, but he didn't joke with you in return. Instead, he acted all romantic and such.

Xavier: The Silent Comforter

Xavier could sense that something was off. Everything was in its place, and you were acting practically the same as every day, but he couldn't help but be instinctively close to you as if the energy he was sensing was oozing out of your body. He was quiet beside you, tending to his own entertainment, but the moment he heard a sniff, all his suspicions were confirmed.

Xavier kept his lips shut and reached an arm over your shoulders, pulling you closer to him. He didn't say a word to you. You continued to sniffle and hiccup while watching the movie, but both of you knew you weren't actually paying attention to the show.

"Do you want to talk about it?" he asked.

Xavier would pat your arm or your thigh to comfort you, placing a kiss every now and then. He listened intently to your rants and your concerns, nodding and asking the right questions. It was his strategy to get you to relax and let it all out naturally. Albeit he'd have a hard time trying to understand you through your sobbing, all he knew was that you needed him at that moment.

It didn't take long for you to calm down and doze off to sleep, feeling the emotional exhaustion weigh you down more than you'd like to admit. You always fell asleep on his lap because he would always comb through your hair while you spoke.

A few hours later, you would wake up next to Xavier on the bed, and on the night table was some convenience store food that he bought.

Sylus: The Kissing Comforter

Sylus didn't know you were having a bad day, even if you were going on and on about that small little thing that made you feel so infuriated. Although he was listening very, very intently, offering you some practical advice and partially suggesting that he could deal with it for you, it wasn't until you headed to the restroom that Luke and Kieran sneaked into his office after hearing the entire thing.

Sylus was confused when the twins told him that you were crying on the way to the bathroom. At that moment, Luke and Kieran thought that their boss was too…insensitive. Sylus knew the look on their faces.

When you headed back to his office after half an hour, Sylus was waiting for you by the door. He pulled you into his grasp and brushed his thumb under your puffy eyes. "Are you alright?" he asked, and you burst out crying ugly like you did in the bathroom. He frowned when you told him that you were just having a bad day, but Sylus could see right through you.

Your efforts in brushing your own misery aside were futile at best.

He picked you up and carried you to the couch, and he patted your back like a baby. You went on and on again about how you felt so bad and why everything was going in the wrong direction, and this time, Sylus was quiet, shushing you and telling you, "Don't cry; everything will be better tomorrow." When you had nothing left to say, Sylus slowly began to distract you by giving you kisses in between cries, touching you, and petting you until you couldn't think of anything else for a few minutes. He nibbled on your ear and whispered sweet nothings alongside comforting words.

Author footnotes: I'm more than sure that their way of comforting the reader/you would vary depending on how you particularly act when you're having a bad day so I decided to go generic and not specify anything... Layout by me, using canva premium | Do not repost |

[marc--chilton]

humor me. imagine if you will. dearest wilson, who is in his mid forties and drunk and having a little mope time because he may be a freak but he's a freak with depression. and he's bemoaning to house about his looks bc he saw an old picture of himself from med school or whatever, like fully being a little loser about it. "i used to be so cute. i had friends that would tease me for being a 'prettyboy'. (little sigh)"

and house is eating this UP because of course they're drinking together, he gets to see wilson be like..... an unserious amount of pathetic. literally not even paying attention to the tv anymore. "do i need to insult you more to fill your quota or something"

"no, no it's not that it's just," and wilson is still present enough to know he's gonna regret showing a weakness to house of all people but whatever. "miss being a pretty face i guess, i dunno"

house (who is NEVER going to let this moment be forgotten holy shit) has to like bite his tongue so he doesn't actually laugh in his face and get him to clam up. "aw, jimmy, (takes wilson's jaw and shakes him a bit like silly dudes do or like when you roughhouse with a dog) you're always a pretty face" and he's teasing of course but also. house is house, and house says some peculiar things regarding wilson so how fr he's being is an absolute mystery

cut to house actually looking at him and wilson is staring right back at him like 🥺 with big big beautiful brown cow eyes which are still kind of unfocused, cheeks a little smooshed where house is still holding his face, the weight of his head in his palm when wilson relaxes a little. "you think i'm pretty? 🥺"

and it's so much house has to avert his gaze. loosens his grip into something a little more soft. "yeah. sure"

[ragnarockz]

Your stuff with Maya is so hot!! Would you be willing to do a Maya x fem!reader where they are all out at a bar and Matt and Sal both find reader attractive and are trying to see who can gain her attention and get her home. And Maya is also attracted to her and after watching them make asses of themselves she steps in and successfully takes reader from them and tells the guys they are fucking idiots and never stood a chance especially when she learns the only one reader wanted all night was Maya to begin with?? and then takes reader to her place and has her way with her?!?

GIVE ME SOME GRACE HERE WITH THIS ONE BECAUSE I HAVE ONLY EVER SHIED AWAY FROM WRITING CHARACTER X READER🥺💛🔒

ANYWAY! MAYA LOVES A CHALLENGE, DOES SHE NOT? 👀 And maybe you kinda sorta love her...for now 😈

You've been nursing your first drink for some time now as your boss orders another round. You blow out a loud exhale in annoyance as you scrunch your face before downing your glass. He's your boss and your uncle so you can't really ever complain to anyone. He gave you a pretty high end job that pays well as his personal assistant. You smile weakly as the bartender hands out another round; definitely their fifth and undoubtedly your second.

You don't see her but she sees you. Sitting at another table with Matt and Sal; she's been eyeing you as the two of them whisper that it's Todd McCoy at the bar with his group. Maya doesn't pay much attention to the chatter as she's more interested in keeping her eyes on what she hopes will be her prize for the night. It isn't until Sal bursts her bubble that you look over your shoulder at the commotion and eavesdrop a little into what they're whisper-yelling to one another.

"That's his PA; right? She's sitting on the edge? Dude, she's a smoke show!"

Sal whisper yells to Matt and Matt, adjusts his glasses before ducking his head closer down to the table.

"That's his niece or daughter or something like that. Just hired his own family I guess to keep whatever secrets close to his vest. Smart...he's got a lot of scandals swirling around him but no one fucking cares; he brings in the big money."

Maya scoffs as she crosses her arms over her chest; flicking her ponytail off of her shoulder. She's facing your direction and her eyes haven't left you yet.

"He's a fucking asshole. He calls me asking for favors all the time and I tell him where he can stick his fucking favors. He doesn't even let her do her job! But, shit..."

Their whispers get lower and out of earshot and you can no longer hear what they're saying but now the three of them are all looking in your direction and the looks on their faces are telling.

It's some sort of challenge or game; some sort of determination and one upping each other. Who's dick is the biggest? Who can pull the strings? Who can rise to the top? The two men were bickering back and forth but Maya was cool and collected and soaked you in for as long as she could.

You turn your attention back to the bar as you know that they know you've been staring at them just as they've been staring at you. Pushing your drink away, you take your phone out from your pocket and mindlessly scroll through your favorite app. It doesn't take long for you to see some posts about Matt Remick and his indulgent Kool-Aid up and coming movie. Associated, of course, are Sal and Maya. You quickly glance around you as your thumb and pointer touch the screen to blow the photo up and get a better look at her.

Even though she's literally sitting behind you a few tables over.

Even though she's literally walking right up to you and you don't even notice until it's too late and you hear your Uncle's loud voice greeting her with nothing but sarcasm and backhanded compliments.

"Look who the cat dragged in! I see you and Remick and Saperstein are poaching in on our celebration...how obvious of you!"

He extends his hand to Maya who, doesn't take it. Instead, she gives him a half-baked smile that looks more like a grimace. She shoots a quick glance in your direction before she opens her mouth to reply; spitting nothing but venom out.

"Funny...wouldn't mark this as a celebration, looks more like a fucking funeral. Jesus...everyone looks fucking miserable, Todd. What did you do? Offer to cut them loose if they didn't show up here? God! And what? You dragged her into this too?"

She points her thumb back over her shoulder in your direction and makes you focus on her. The way her ponytail is perfect hanging behind her; her outfit looks like it peeled right out from a magazine. Her face; her expressions. She cold and calculated and undeniably really fucking hot. You slowly tuck your phone away just in case she catches a glance of what you've been looking at before she walked over here. Her. And before that? Also her.

God, you think to yourself as you bite your bottom lip, you're down bad for Maya Mason.

"Anyway, Todd...nice talking to you, as always. Next time you have a marketing question, ask your niece to call me instead of you. Isn't that her job? If not, we can always get her in with Continental. Scrub her name out from under yours..."

You swore your Uncle went white in the face as she chuckled nervously and brushed Maya off without a word, turning back to the members of your party. She nods her head, another win under her belt before she licks her lips and looks at you.

"We have an empty seat at our table if you'd rather join a real fucking party and not whatever the fuck your lame ass Uncle is trying to pull..."

And she leaves it at that as she walks away, leaving you to decide. It takes less than a second for you to slip off of the bar stool and follow at her heels. You sit yourself down at the empty spot between Maya and Sal with Matt across with you. You're familiar with them all; having been in the industry for so long all of these people are a little more than acquaintances.

The table goes quiet and you can feel the air shift between the four of you; going back to that low-level of whisper they had been engaging in earlier. The game has started and you wonder what it is.

Matt starts first; rambling on quickly about how he could use a new PA and your expertise and knowledge is perfect for him; perfect for Continental. It makes Maya roll her eyes and scoff as she shakes her head; basically kicking Matt from under the table.

You sit there with a pained smile on your face and wish it was Maya saying these things; wishing it was her asking you to be her personal assistant. You can only dream as Sal interjects Matt to now ramble on about executive challenges that he believes you can lend a hand in.

Maya loudly interjects as she reaches beside you to put her hand over yours which has been resting on your lap. You feel a warm shiver creep up your spine with the proximity of her. You can smell her perfume and almost feel her shirt touching your arm. You hold your breath.

"Fuck these two and fuck your lame ass funeral...how about we go to a real fucking party, just us? Just the girls?"

You feel like a trance has been put over you as you slowly nod your head and a small smile creeps onto your lips. She mimics you as she nods her head as well and matches the smile. You notice there's a look in her eye; a known feeling that she won whatever this was. Her smile turns hungry and you notice it but don't give it a second thought. Her hand still over yours she clutches it to pull you up and out of your seat to lead you out of the bar and into the waiting car parked outside.

She ushers you into the back seat and follows close behind you, basically sitting on top of you as she gets herself in and slams the car door closed.

"Those losers can find another ride home. Fuck them...thinking they were going to fucking win over me...pathetic..."

The rest of the car ride is quiet but you can feel the tension building between you and Maya. She found your hand with hers again and held it; clutched it tightly. She started making little circles with her thumb in the soft fold between your own thumb and pointer finger. She felt warm and cool at the same time. You could hear her breathing get more ragged, unhinged the closer you got to her place.

You knew what was coming and you had already accepted it the second you sat down at their table at the bar. You knew what the game was the second you felt Maya's gaze on you. And, you knew, exactly what the prize for winning such game was: you.

You barely make it into Maya's foyer before she gets you up against the door of what you quickly assume is a closet. You feel her hands ripping and pulling and dragging off your clothes in a hurried frenzy. Like she's starving, dying of thirst. Like the only thing she needs to survive is you and you alone. And you let her because, fuck, in this moment, who wouldn't? You moan loudly into her mouth when her lips collide with yours and you sink a little lower against the door as her hands find their way in between your legs and groping your breast.

You let her. She uses you.

You can barely make out anything in the darkened foyer with the shaded glass of her home. Obviously for privacy so peeping toms and paparazzi aren't sneaking peaks into her home at all hours. But a slight change of light from outside gives you the opportunity to see a shape or, maybe even a shadow, of something between her legs when she desperately pulls her own pants down and kicks them off from her ankles.

You feel it before you even get a chance to really see it. Cool and smooth with slight ridges that tease at your folds which are, without a doubt, slick from her hands and just honestly from her. As bold and brassy as Maya Mason was and known to be, you did not expect her to be packing out in public. Especially, with Sal and Matt by her side. Maybe they knew her better than you and the tabloids did but fuck, what did that matter now as your breath hitches in your throat. She was just inches away from filling you up with her cock.

She pushes you against the door and this time, fills you up with herself. You feel yourself stretch to take her cock; as much as your body allows and then some. The tip hits your cervix already and you moan in delight. You want more; you're begging for it and you very quickly realize, that's her favorite thing in the world.

To have someone beg for her.

She's rough and quick and fast. She's loud and messy and nothing comes out from her mouth but 'fuck' and 'shit' and 'jesus fucking christ'. You can barely keep your head on straight as your eyes slam shut and your head snaps forward and you focus on the relentless pounding of her cock up inside of you. You can feel the silicone warm and then become hot; your own wetness making it easier for her to fuck you. You're on the brink of orgasm; you can feel it. That hot pull in your lower abdomen; the pressure waiting to be released. Your little moans and whines and breaths hitch up in your throat and you can swear she's calling you a 'good girl' and a 'pretty fucking thing' and then...

It all comes crashing down around you.

You cum and she, pulls right out.

A wail escapes your lips as you bend forward; trying to catch yourself from your knees buckling. You can hear the smirk on her face that you can't see. It was really all some game. Just some quick fuck in her house up on some hill in Hollywood. You can sense she's trying not to laugh as you hear the shuffling of fabric as she scoops up her pants and pulls them back on. The zipper is deafening; like a gunshot ringing out.

"I'll call you a cab, Sweet Thing...you'll be home before the sun comes back up over those fucking hills. It was nice meeting you, by the way...maybe we'll run into one another again."

Your heart hammers away in your chest as you hear her footsteps and then the front door opening once again. She is literally standing there holding the door open for you to get your shit and get the fuck out.

[lay-z]

I'm sad for some reason I think I'm getting close to getting my period, so... I'm yearning for a fictional man and I'm hurting, because I can't have him 🥺❤️‍🩹 Also, I'd like to explore some slow burn type of romance and keep Simon's past traumas in mind! Pairing: civvie!F!Reader x Simon 'Ghost' Riley Warnings/Info: Reader is demisexual; cussing; tw: mental issues; insecurities; slow burn; awkwardness; humor Word count: 3.5k The one where two broken people connect.

You've already decided that you've given up on finding, not love, but companionship.

You've given up on love a long time ago, long before you'd reached your late 20s.

An old, creative and gentle soul, weighted down and scarred by childhood bullying, constant criticism by your family, societies bloody beauty standards and things you suffer from which you didn't even know how to describe let alone name in your youth.

Demisexuality? Body dysmorphia? Eating disorders? Anxiety? Insecurities, so deeply rooted, that they border on self-hatred?

And no, you never went to therapy – no. Gods, no, because if you go to therapy, you're mental, right? And how can your poor mother tell the rest of the family that you're mentally unstable? That something is wrong with her little, darling daughter? Hm?

So, no therapy, because your hyper-independence got your back. You're used to that, learned it in your younger years; always there for others, but no one ever stepped up for you, except yourself. Yet you're cursed to be an empath, so you never stopped caring for others, even if it killed you inside.

Giving. Giving. Giving. Tearing yourself apart to please and give up the love that brimmed in your kind heart. Never receiving anything good and soft, like some cheap whore, until there was little left of love to give.

Now you've turned cynical, cold, and lonely – or that's what you keep telling yourself to keep the façade up. Hiding behind humour and feigned nonchalance, because you're an entertainer. Always have been. You would've been an amazing actress, but when you were younger, your mother told you that you could never be the love interest, so why bother go to acting school and actually do something you enjoy?

You rarely wallow in self-pity anymore; only occasionally, right before you get your period and your hormones make you feel sad and depressed, make you break and hate yourself. Quiet and in secrecy, in the safety of your dark bedroom, or in front of the bathroom mirror – just to play out a sad scene in your delusional mind. Probably with a fictional man, someone who'd never hurt you – in your alternate universe.

Accept. Adapt. Overcome. Repeat.

It isn't ideal, but you've found coping mechanisms that work for you, albeit some unhealthy ones and you've survived so far. Emphasis on survived, not lived.

You're so deep in your thoughts, on the brink of dissociation, that you don't even realize you've been staring – again.

Your eyes flutter briefly, focusing back on the here and now until you realize what or, rather, who you have been staring at like some creep.

Fuck.

It's that man with the skull mask, not a ski mask, but a balaclava – you've googled it the first time you'd seen him around the café. You'd even researched if face coverings like that are illegal in the UK – turns out they're not, unless you refuse to take it off when a police officer orders you to.

He's staring right back at you; dark brown eyes unblinking, skin around the eye holes covered up by some black smudge – combat or war paint, probably. Sitting at the table right across from you by the cafés large windows; incredibly out of place for such a soft and quaint establishment. Nursing a tea, looking menacing and intimidating with his massive physique and black clothing, yet his eyes hold something more than stoicism in them. You know, because you see it yourself when you look into any mirror.

Bottled up emotions, a myriad of them, simmering just below the surface like a dormant volcano, ready to erupt someday.

You narrow your eyes then, force yourself not to tilt your head to the side like a curious puppy would do, because you don't want him to know that you're actually perceiving him this time – and not merely daydreaming and brooding like you usually do. Cursing internally, when you eventually lose this staring competition that you've completely just made up in your mind, because his eyes are too intense and he's obviously immune to social awkwardness, you reach for your lukewarm  matcha latte, taking a small sip as you turn your head away to stare out of the large shop windows, pretending to watch passers-by.

You force yourself to focus on the shitty UK weather outside, resting your chin on the back of your hand, elbow propped up on the cheap table. Rain and wind and colourful leaves grazing the wet pavement as the seasons start changing and autumn begins creeping in. You like autumn, prefer it over summer every year – and your mind begins to drift again, distracted by random strangers outside, grey clouds in the sky and fat raindrops pitter-pattering against the windows.

Meanwhile, his eyes never waver from you, and Simon catches himself wondering, what you might be thinking about now.

Time passes, and you try to keep your routine up – going out for a coffee once or twice every week, so you won't die of loneliness or isolation. At least, the café is nice, the baristas as well, it's not far from your flat and it's usually not that crowded nor busy.

Or so it was during summer.

Now, all people want to do is drink their coffees and teas inside, apparently, since the temperatures have dropped, along with the leaves.

After ordering your matcha latte, you turn around to see that your favourite spot by the window has been occupied in the past six minutes of standing by the counter. If only the lady in front of you had ordered her bloody tea and biscuits a smidge faster, but nah, you're not that lucky.

Groaning internally, you move to the table across from your fave, pulling one of the two plastic chairs out with more force than necessary because you're petty and annoyed. It's loud – not too loud, actually, but louder than it usually is – and you curse yourself for going out. You should've just stayed in this afternoon, curled up on your couch, playing some Baldur's Gate or so.

Some minutes pass after receiving your hot beverage and you've managed to drown out the noises and successfully ignore the sudden hubbub around the café.

That is until you notice a looming presence next to you; aura thick like molasses and prominent like the smell of gasoline, you don't know if you like it or not. It does catch your attention, though, and you turn your head to the left, eye-level with his denim-clad crotch, perhaps a little too close for the acceptable social standards.

Furrowing your brows in both confusion and offense, you have to tilt your head back and lean back in your chair to meet his eyes. How can those eyes be soft and aloof at the same time?

"Uh, hi?" You say then, brows still furrowed; not a greeting but an out for him to excuse himself for getting too close and fuck off again.

"Yer in me seat." He counters bluntly, voice incredibly rough and accented and muffled by the fabric of his mask as he gestures at the table with his gloved hand and holding a small coaster with a steaming cup of tea on top of it in the other one delicately. It looks comical and stupid, yet somehow endearing.

You're dumbfounded for a moment, blinking up at him in disbelief before finding your wit again, nodding your chin at the two chatting women sitting at your favourite table.

"And they're in mine," you say matter of factly, "If we go by that logic." You add dryly, picking up your latte, because the conversation is surely over.

He stays by your side, unmoving like a marble statue, dark eyes flickering somewhat nervously between you and the empty chair across from yours. Simon doesn't know how to properly interact with a civilian anymore; let alone a female civvie, and he ponders for a moment if he should just leave again, have a cuppa at his own flat.

But Simon's therapist had advised him, pleaded with him, to at least try and make a friendly connection with someone outside of his military comfort zone and well, here you are. At least your face is familiar already and you look harmless...safe.

"May I...sit with ye, lass?" He almost grits through his teeth, doing his best to ignore the way his heart beats hard against his ribcage as he waits for your rejection.

You pick up on the vulnerability in his voice, his demeanour, as if asking costs him some courage; truth be told, it would cost you some, too. Perhaps it's the fact that you've become silent acquaintances over the past few weeks; meeting up at this place without even meaning to. Each of you alone, always.

You stop in your movements, lifting the rim of your mug just to your lips before lowering it again, holding his gaze without taking a sip.

Sit with me? You muse to yourself, surveying him up close briefly and for the first time, at least consciously. He shifts on his feet some, heavy black boots – always boots, always layers of dark clothing, always the skull balaclava, no matter the temperature.

However, despite his looks, despite his authoritative and all-consuming aura and your better judgement, you nod once, cursing your intuition and empathy, nudging the empty chair away from the table from beneath it with your foot – a wordless permission, or perhaps an invitation?

And Simon exhales a long breath through his nose, jaw unclenching slightly as he gives a curt nod, sets his tea on the table and takes a seat on the offered chair. Easy.

And that is that.

The next time you're at the café, you breathe a sigh of relief to find it relatively empty for the time, except for some elderly customers and students working in silence on their laptops.

You're delighted to find your favourite table empty again and you order your usual matcha latte with coconut milk before eagerly sinking into the chair at 'your' table with a contented sigh and a good view on the people and life outside the cosy café.

Then your peace is once again disturbed by the soft clink of a tea cup being placed on the table, followed by the empty chair across from you scraping over the old hardwood floor, before he slips into the seat with a quiet huff.

"Your table is free," you tell him immediately, leaning to the side to look past his massive frame at the unoccupied table behind him.

"Aye, I know," he responds gruffly, folding his forearms on the table while he looks outside the window, "Figured we can ah safe space by sitting together." He suggests with a nonchalant shrug, though internally, Simon's stomach is clenching with nerves and anxiety. He despises feeling awkward and being in situations he cannot control.

Yes, it does feel incredibly awkward, but deep down you're too nice to tell him to fuck off, because he hasn't given you a reason to do so. When you were forced to share a table last time, you sat in somewhat comfortable silence, though you'd definitely finished your drink faster than usual back then before uttering a polite goodbye and slipping away.

"I guess so," you mutter in return because he's already sat down anyway.

Silence ensues, but you can't ignore the sudden tension of unasked questions and the pressure of social interactions. Then, it's too quiet in the establishment, and you both suddenly and silently hate it.

"Ye enjoy observin' people?"

His question catches you off guard because he sounds genuinely interested in you answer, and it's unnerving.

"Yeah, you could say that," you answer curtly, crossing your legs at your ankles under the table and leaning back into the cheap chair to feign nonchalance, even though you're currently anything but, "I find it relaxing."

"That's...strange," Simon retorts, quirking an eyebrow behind the safety of his balaclava, because he does that, too, and he never thought you'd blatantly admit that. Is people watching a thing among civvies? Then you shoot him an offended look and he can't help but cringe internally.

"Didn't mean it like that, lass." He assures you in a mumble, eyes flickering down to his steaming cup of Earl Grey tea.

Your first instinct is to mock him for his silly mask, ask him if he's a thug or cosplaying as one or some hooligan, but you bite your tongue, because you know better, and you feel like he could make you regret your sass. Especially if one of those assumptions proofs true.

"And what do you always do around here, hm? Never see you read a book or newspaper, let alone play with your phone," you ask instead, not even hiding the accusatory undertone as you turn your upper body towards the window. You're involuntarily dismissive, because it's been a while since you talked to a stranger like that, let alone a man.

"Same as ye, lass," he grumbles, "Thinkin', observin'...enjoyin' the peace." As if internal peace could ever be achieved in his case.

There's another moment of awkward silence and your mind is racing, riddled with anxiety, though unbeknownst to you, so is his. Simon is so out of his element and yet he forces himself to stay, unless you blatantly tell him to fuck off – which, deep down, he hopes you will.

"You're not some creep are you? 'Cause I swear, I'll clock you if you try anything or follow me home after this," you tell him with an edge to your voice, like you mean it. You're not opposed or afraid of violence. You grew up with older brothers and cousins.

Simon snorts at your threat, genuinely. He's taken off guard by your fierceness and he's absolutely sure you're serious about this, and he hates to know that he's capable of taking you down if he wanted to, even if you'd fight tooth and nail. It makes him feel guilty, makes his gut twist and churn because of those dark thoughts coming up in his brain like some black pest, even though he'd never ever do anything to hurt you.

"'m not," he assures you, eyes flickering over to study your face, your expression. You look tense and standoffish, and he can't help but admire that; to know that you're not afraid, that you can take care of yourself if push comes to shove.

"Name's Simon." He offers it like an oblation, a small yet important piece of himself, putting his given name and some trust into the hands of a stranger, and asking nothing in return.

You're once again dumbfounded and yet your mistrust and suspicious nature get triggered; squinting your eyes as him, your heart and brain are in utter turmoil.

"Didn't ask," you eventually retort coolly, like a proper arsehole, even though, deep down, it hurts yourself, hurts you to be rude like that, especially as you see something flicker in his dark eyes. Surprise? Hurt? Anger? You can't tell, but he leans back in his seat, gives a curt nod, accepting your snappish response just like that, and you think he'll leave, but he stays seated.

"I'm...sorry," you utter suddenly, fidgeting with the hem of your grey oversized hoodie, "That was...unnecessarily rude." You admit with a deep sigh. But was it, though? He's a stranger, some bloke with a mask, who just randomly decided to sit with you and introduce himself–

"It's fine, lass," he says, pulling you from your spiralling thoughts with his deep gravelly voice, "A reasonable reaction, really."

It is, Simon thinks. He might have questioned you about your thoughts on self-preservation and your survival instinct, if you wouldn't have reacted the way you just did.

He contemplates lifting his mask to finally take as sip of his tea, but like always, it costs him every ounce of courage to do so while you're looking at him so shamelessly with your alert eyes and that slight frown on your face, and Simon rubs his gloved palms over his thighs below the table to soothe himself as you keep scrutinizing him.

But then you utter your name in return, albeit hesitantly, and his eyes flicker up to meet your gaze, noticing the hint of curiosity in your eyes.

You don't see him, Simon, for several weeks after that and after some contemplation, you decide that he must've found a new café to hang out at or perhaps he got arrested eventually. You don't care either way.

But then, why do your eyes keep flickering around the shop whenever you drink your matcha latte? Why do you stare at the empty chair at his 'favourite table'? Why do you keep wondering what happened to him?

You don't want to accept it, don't want to acknowledge it, but deep down, you actually enjoyed having a proper chat with him the last time you saw him. When he so randomly decide to sit with you and introduce himself. You swiftly fix the slight purse of your lips as your mind keeps pondering about this stranger and you force yourself to enjoy your hot beverage until you can get back home and feel accomplished for actually having spent time outside your comfort zones, namely your flat and workspace.

But it's lonely. Always lonely.

In those few moments you'd shared with Simon, despite the awkwardness and that uncomfortable feeling of being perceived by someone, you'd realized that something has been missing in your life. Perhaps you should give your parents and siblings a call back; perhaps you should answer all those ignored messages in your phone; messages that have become less and less, because the people closest to you will eventually stop reaching out. You know that spiel already, yet you're having so much trouble actually pulling yourself out of this hole of self-isolation, a hole that's become suffocating, draining the colour from your life while you keep telling yourself that you're fine, that you want it this way.

"Lass?"

His voice cuts through your overthinking mind like a hot knife through butter and your eyes immediately find his gaze, that unwavering, piercing stare of his.

"Simon," you say in return, more like a greeting if it wouldn't be for the shocked pitch lacing your voice. You can faintly see his tired eyes crinkle slightly as he rests one gloved hand on the backrest of the empty chair across from you and you wonder if he's smiling behind his mask.

"Remember me name, aye?" He asks gruffly, almost playfully, the tiniest smirk tugging at the corner of his chapped lips beneath his mask as he pulls out the chair, waiting for your permission.

"Tsk. Obviously," you answer with a scoff and an eye roll before giving him a short nod. "No tea?" You remark as he sits down without it, raising an eyebrow as you sip on your own drink.

"Err, no. Not stayin' for one," he answers, shaking his head, "Was jus' in the area," he lies, "Figured I could drop by and say 'ello." He adds with a shrug, feeling utterly stupid now, because Simon definitely was not in the area.

He came home from a deployment last night and wanted to check on you for some reason, see if you're still coming here, see if you’re doing alright – but of course, you are.

"Mhm," you hum affirmingly, though more suspicious than ever as you survey him. You want to spit out Why?,  the question burning on the tip of your tongue, but you’re somehow too distracted by his overall appearance.

The paint around his eyes has faded, as if rubbed and smudged too many times. He smells an awful lot of tobacco and something else you can't quite pinpoint. Even in his usual attire of some type of black jacket or hoodie, jeans, boots and his balaclava, he looks terribly dishevelled and messy.

"Where have you been?" You find yourself asking before you can stop your mouth from moving. "If you don't mind me asking." You add casually, for good measure.

“Deployed.” Simon answers offhandedly, sounding colder than he intended to, and you do pick up on the shift in attitude; he doesn’t want to elaborate.

“Okay,” you retort with a nod, though your curiosity is sparked, and you click your tongue, pondering, before you confuse him as you let out a little snort.

Of course, he's a fucking soldier, you muse to yourself, should've figured that out myself.

You can practically see him raise his eyebrows in confusion, noticing how the fabric of his bloody mask shifts slightly.

“Ye laughin’ at me for servin’ me country?” He asks and desperately hopes that you pick up on the teasing tone in his voice, though it’s still hoarse from barking orders at his men for days on end.

“No,” you answer uncharacteristically soft, flashing him a rare genuine and sheepish smile, “I always wanted to join the military myself.”

Simon doesn’t know if it’s the smile you shoot him, catching him off guard, because he’s never seen that expression on your face before, let alone that sudden twinkle in your eyes as you admit that you’ve thought about enlisting in your past, but he suddenly feels even more intrigued by you; this secluded, lovely civilian in front of him, and he finds himself asking then,

“Why didn’t ye enlist?”

Perhaps he should get that tea after all.

Part 2 ?

[flusskatzen-blog]

Manchester Ritual thoughts!!! We were just behind the first row at the barrier in the centre!!! Spoilers under the cut

Perpetua is hot as FUCk and absolutely slaying. This guy is giving so much despite seeming a lil overwhelmed. He didn't stop smiling!!!! Honestly so fabulous and suave. Giving non-binary rizz if ever I saw it. Got a few lyrics wrong and dramatically hit his head and keeled over.

Rain was absolutely killing it on bass and the highlight for me was rAIN AND SWISS WEARING GHOULETTE HABITS which Rain flipped a few times like a moDEL

No Perpetua/Dew leg feel up during Mary on a Cross, which was nice that it's special between Copia and Dew

PAPA SAYING "TAKE IT AWAY DEW"

The stage layout was really nice and small, so the band were all pretty close together aside from Phantom and Dew going to the far ends at times to engage with the audience there. Rain kept standing on the steps by Mountain or fully in front of the drums playing to Mountain, in particular I noticed it seemed to be in slower or more romantic songs! 😭

Phantom during Year Zero, when all the ghouls are STILL and RESPECTFUL and intensely into their ritual decided to square up to Papa?!!!

I was copying Phantom's head tilt the entire ritual and made eye contact with him and Rain, and at a later point Phant blew a quick kiss in my direction and while I'm not sure if it was definitely at me, it made me very embarrassed and shy the rest of the Ritual. I guess this is what I get for staring at the Ghouls instead of Papa the majority of the show 😭🤣

Rain was stood by us during Majesty, so I tried to tell them that they're beautiful every time "all beauty lies within you" played

Also amazing that all the ghouls got individual moments and solos I think???

RAIN CHOKED DEWDROP DURING HIS LITTLE SHIT HEAD MOMENT 💀💀💀 F U C K

Aurora's vocals were gorgeous 😭 and she kept lifting up her wings and it was so elegant and lovely

Cirrus blew a kiss at Perpetua when walking past at the end of her keytar solo

Did I mention Swiss flipping everyone off during Kiss The Goat?? That made me laugh (and his dancing was delightful)

Loved seeing the black bass and Phant's new guitar!! So pretty 🥺 bet he got a fender to match Dew and a Jazzmaster to impress Swiss

Dothoml and monstrance clock were such shocks. He Is and Dathoml literally felt like religious experiences.

New songs were fucking incredible and it was surreal how quiet the audience was for them, I bet the band absolutely fucking loved it. Rare tour experience for them!

The new songs feel so much more personal and introspective than the previous ones, and I'll definitely have more detailed thoughts to post when the album drops.

Wish I could go to every show honestly. It was the best concert experience I've ever had.

Papa rose from the stage on a platform so he looked like he was levitating!!!

And Swiss was given a FUCKING COWBELL AND I TRANSCENDED I CAN'T BELIEVE THEY BROUGHT IT BACK

[ofloveandstardust]

A/N: I saw that Cain and Abel aren't like present in the show and I know they're technically Adam and Eve's kids, but let me have this please— I just wanna gush about this since it's been invading my mind.

cw: fem!reader (no pronouns, but reader is called wife/mama/mommy/mother)

Imagine: Being Adam's wife and having two sons with him.

I can definitely see him being excited over having sons. Like, hell yeah! But but but also— I have this feeling in my gut that he'd be okay with being a girl dad, sooo after having your sons he's just like "Wifey, Sugartits, Babycakes—" Any nickname under the sun until you finally ask him what he wants and he just says he wants a daughter.

You can't tell me he didn't name Abel— and 💀 It's even funnier since Abel does have a little more resemblance of his father than Cain does. Cain was named by you and looks more like you. However, you can say his attitude is similar to Adam's. I can see them both having Adam's eyes when thinking up of how they'd look, but I'm leaving things up in the air. Just for this, because I think it'd be neat, the boys are twins. Cain is the older twin while Abel is the younger one.

Cain is kind of a menace...but still a good kid. He always pulls that "Because I'm the oldest" card with Abel and if he ever whacked his brother and he started crying, Cain immediately does that thing where the sibling just panics and stops them from crying or else he's getting in trouble with mama and papa. He teases his younger brother, but will get upset if anyone tries to bully Abel. Oh, but the biggest menace he is towards? Adam. Cain doesn't hate his dad at all. No, he just prefers you more and lowkey is a mama's boy. Adam can have Mr. Perfect (Abel), but he at least has mama.

Then Adam just straight up has beef with his own son 💀 Because Cain takes up your time and he swears the little shit is taunting him when you're not looking. Cain comes up when you and Adam are kissing or anything like that, holding his hands up like, "I want Mama's kisses too... 🥺" You can't resist because that's your baby and he's so adorable. There's this stare down between Adam and Cain...meanwhile Abel, being the good bean that he is, waddles towards you all and goes, "Mama! Papa! Look what I drew! :D" and it's just a sweet little drawing of him, his brother, you and Adam.

Speaking of Abel, he's a good boi. Cain calls him Mr. Perfect sometimes because Abel has some natural talent. He's especially good with music, much to Adam's delight. Still, he looks up to his brother and despite Cain's jealousy, they do get along nicely. They have this little game where they're building their own city and decide over several elements of it. Abel somehow always brings sheep into the mix, but his brother isn't complaining.

Abel doesn't play favorites and says he loves you and Adam equally. He always wants to make sure the two of you are present at the same time when showing his accomplishments or what he's found. Speaking of which, he has special interests that last for a while until he moves on to another one or some just last a very long time. An example would be sheep, as mentioned before. He even has a lamb plushie (I can see him watching Lamb Chop's Play Along and loving the show). Cain knows how precious this little lamb is to Abel and will raise chaos if it ever gets lost or stolen (he calls the plush "The Chosen").

Here's a funny little thing: the boys not recognizing Adam in the mask he wears. From the day they were born, they always saw their father without his mask and have grown used to seeing his actual face. One day, they ask you where he was and you tell them it's work related but he'll be back to teach them some new songs. Just imagine Adam coming back, calling out that he's home, which cause the boys to rush up to him. Then they just stop because... "Mama, who's this stranger in our house!?" Abel literally starts crying— saying this isn't papa. Meanwhile Cain's mind immediately says violence is the answer (thanks, Adam). You have to calm both boys down and explain to them about the mask.

Flight lessons are stressful. It all started when Cain began jumping off of the furniture and escalated to him jumping off the bunk bed (because it'd be adorable for them to have bunk beds). So, it seems like it was time to show the boys how to use their wings. It's harder than it looks. Abel isn't okay with jumping off from anywhere unless Cain is going to jump with him. Fine with his brother because he enjoys doing this. Eventually, they're able to fly and it's a joy! They can fly around Heaven with you and Adam and it's absolutely adorable.

Cain and Abel have different ways to refer to you and Adam. Cain calls Adam 'dad' or 'papa' but does call him 'father' when he's upset or serious. Meanwhile, he calls you 'mama', 'mommy', or 'mom' (mom is more frequent when around others or strangers) and it's rare when he calls you mother. Abel just calls you two mama and papa. He'll only use mother and father if he's around people he doesn't know or meeting for the first time.

I have more thoughts about these little beans such as how they are around Lute (#1 and only Babysitter), Emily (Abel affectionately calls her Auntie Em), Sera and possibly Lucifer and Charlie (because you can't tell me Adam would not brag about having kids 💀). Like, I can see Cain being brutally honest when he first sees Lucifer because he's that type of kid. Will 100% make a comment about the man's height. There's also the fact that both boys are into music like their father. Abel once asked, "So if that's Queen, then who's the King?" when Adam tells them about Queen. Also, I can very much see Cain getting into gardening. If you want more of these then let me know!

[qhoaaaa]

GUYS SHAW PACK SHIFTED TICKLE SPOTS RAHH

David -

His ears. Definitely his ears. HE JUST FOLDS IMMEDIATELY. Out of him, Milo and Asher, his whines are more growl-like. When David wants to be pet, he flops at Angel's feet and doesn't look at them, but his ears move towards them (if that makes sense) to signal that he wants pets. Very rarely, Angel will manage to get a tail wag from him.

Asher -

His belly. Soft wolf belly, Babe scritches a certain spot and his leg is kicking like no tomorrow. When Ash wants these nice scritches, he flops on his back, stares INTENTLY at Babe who is like 🧍🏽‍♂️, and his tail is wagging. Babe tries to ignore him for funsies but next thing you know, there's a giant wolf sitting on their legs with his head on their thigh like 🥺. Once given said scritches, he makes a weird noise like foxes do. He's a little weirdo /affectionately.

Milo -

Chin. Little fluffy chin. His head turns to the left then to the right automatically when Sweetheart scritches his chin. He also leans into their hand like 😌😵‍💫. He LOVES it. Will definitely admit it, he has no shame. He also likes his neck being scratched and rubbed at. If Milo wants pets, he will follow Sweetheart around the house and literally put his paw on them to get their attention, and make little noises. Side note - he loves to chase Sweetheart around the house when they're cloaked 💜💛.

Darlin' -

50% of the time they like scritches but they just LOVEE soft pats and rubs. Loves it when Sam holds their snout and runs his thumbs over their eyes, it's just so soothing. Weirdly likes it when Sam does that dad thing where he pats their belly/torso with a flat hand like a watermelon.

Tagging!: @moronkyne

[ladybunny44]

Hi hi! If it's okay I'd like to request hehehe, akashi seijuro and reader fic (in a relationship) where they're still at teiko and the whole situation happens, akashi orders reader to break up because they probably don't want this version of him but reader doesn't want to and stays in the relationship and the reader follows seijuro to rakuzan pls. Fluff and comfort pls 🥺

I loved the emperor's sweet spot very much, it's very rare to find more reader fics of him🥹❤️

🌙 Through Every Version of You 🌹

Pairing : Akashi Seijuro x Gn!Reader

Genre : ❕️☁️

Word Count : ~2000

Summary : Akashi Seijuro, the prodigy of Teiko’s basketball team, decides to push you away, believing you can’t accept every side of him. Despite the heartbreak, your love for him never falters. With the help of your best friend, you follow him to Rakuzan, determined to prove your devotion and show him that you’ve always loved him, unconditionally. Featuring emotional reunions, heartfelt confessions, and the softer side of Akashi that only you get to see.

TW/CW : Angst with a happy ending, sweet and tender romance also emotional confrontational and reconciliation. 🌧

NOTIFICATIONS ꩜ ₊ ⊹! : Enjoy the oneshot! Thank you for the request :) 📚

『••✎••』

The rain poured heavily outside the Teiko gym, its rhythmic sound echoing through the quiet campus. You waited near the entrance, nervously twisting the silver bracelet on your wrist—a gift from Akashi Seijuro, given on your first anniversary. The small charm, a basketball and a cherry blossom, dangled lightly, a bittersweet reminder of happier times.

When Akashi finally emerged, his dual-colored eyes met yours. For a fleeting second, they softened, but his expression quickly turned sharp and unreadable.

“We need to talk,” he said, his voice calm but firm.

The weight of his words settled in your chest like a stone, but you followed him outside, the rain-soaked courtyard becoming the stage for a conversation you didn’t want to have.

“We should break up.”

His words hit like a slap. You stared at him, your hand reflexively clutching the bracelet on your wrist.

“What are you talking about, Seijuro?” you asked, your voice trembling.

He avoided your gaze, his jaw tightening. “This isn’t working. I’ve thought about it, and it’s for the best. You don’t—” He hesitated, his voice faltering for just a moment. “You don’t deserve this. You don’t deserve me.”

The tears in your eyes blurred your vision, but you stepped closer, determined to get through to him. “What are you saying? I love you, Seijuro. Why are you doing this?”

“I’m doing this for you,” he snapped, his tone harsher than you’d ever heard. “You don’t know what it’s like—the other side of me. I won’t let you suffer because of it.”

“You think so little of me?” you said, your voice breaking. “I’ve seen the sides of you, Seijuro. All of them. And I love every single one.”

He froze, his expression faltering as if your words had hit their mark. But then he stepped back, his face hardening once more. “This is final,” he said, his voice devoid of emotion. “Goodbye, Y/N.”

With that, he walked away, leaving you in the rain, clutching the bracelet and the pieces of your shattered heart.

Months passed, and while the heartbreak lingered, your resolve never wavered. Akashi’s absence left a void, but you knew him better than anyone. His cold demeanor was a façade, and no matter how far he pushed you away, you couldn’t let him shoulder everything alone.

One sunny afternoon, you met Aya, your best friend, at your favorite park. The two of you sat on the grass, flipping through high school brochures and discussing your futures.

“So,” Aya began, glancing at you slyly, “any idea where you’re going yet?”

You sighed, staring at the Rakuzan High brochure in your lap. “Not really,” you lied, your fingers brushing against the bracelet Akashi had given you.

Aya raised an eyebrow. “Uh-huh. Nice try, but I know you. You’re still hung up on Akashi, aren’t you?”

Your cheeks flushed as you avoided her gaze. “I just… I can’t stop thinking about him.”

She leaned closer, her voice dropping conspiratorially. “Well, it’s a good thing I know where he’s going.”

Your head snapped up. “What? How?”

She smirked, holding up her phone. “My boyfriend hangs out with some of his old teammates. They let it slip he’s heading to Rakuzan.”

Your heart skipped a beat. “Rakuzan,” you murmured.

Aya grinned, nudging you. “And guess what? Rakuzan is on your list of schools, too. Coincidence? I think not.”

You bit your lip, the idea of following Akashi both exciting and nerve-wracking. “What if he doesn’t want to see me?”

Aya rolled her eyes. “Please. He’s probably brooding somewhere, missing you like crazy but too stubborn to admit it. Someone has to knock some sense into him, and that someone is you.”

The first month at Rakuzan was a whirlwind of new classes and faces, but the one person you wanted to see remained just out of reach. You heard whispers of Akashi’s name in the hallways and caught fleeting glimpses of him on campus, but he always seemed untouchable, a distant figure at the top of a mountain.

It wasn’t until Aya cornered you after class one day that things began to change.

“I just heard from one of his teammates that Akashi’s at the gym right now,” she said, her eyes sparkling with mischief. “This is your chance.”

You hesitated, clutching your bag tightly. “What if he doesn’t want to see me?”

Aya crossed her arms. “Y/N, you didn’t transfer here just to avoid him. Go. You owe it to yourself—and to him.”

Her words gave you the push you needed. Heart pounding, you made your way to the gym, the bracelet on your wrist a comforting weight.

When you arrived at the gym, your nerves nearly got the better of you. But as you stepped inside, your eyes immediately found him. Akashi stood in the center of the court, his presence commanding as ever.

For a moment, you froze, unsure of what to say. Then, as if sensing your gaze, Akashi turned. His mismatched eyes widened slightly when they landed on you.

“Y/N,” he said, his voice unreadable. “What are you doing here?”

“I go here since it's in my school list, coincidently, i heard about you going here.” you said, your voice steady despite your racing heart. “I told you I wasn’t going to leave you, Seijuro. I meant it.”

Behind you, Aya grinned mischievously as she spotted a few Rakuzan teammates lingering curiously at her at the edges of the gym. She urges all of them together to watch the k-drama unfold, Soon enough, they were all poorly hiding behind gym equipment, watching intently.

“I don’t understand,” Akashi said, his usually composed expression faltering. “Why would you…”

“Because I love you,” you interrupted, stepping closer. You held up your wrist, the bracelet catching the light. “You gave this to me, remember? It symbolizes trust. I never stopped believing in you, Seijuro. Not for a second.”

His eyes softened, the walls he’d built around himself crumbling. “I’m sorry,” he murmured, his voice shaking slightly. “For everything. For trying to push you away.”

You smiled, reaching out to take his hand. “I forgave you a long time ago. I just want to move forward—together.”

⋆⭒˚｡⋆༘˚⋆𐙚｡⋆𖦹.✧˚˗ˏˋ ♡ ˎˊ˗

『••✎••』

Later That Evening

The two of you sat on a quiet bench outside the gym after Akashi finishes practicing, the evening breeze carrying the scent of blooming flowers. Akashi’s hand rested over yours, his grip firm but tender, as if he were afraid you might disappear.

“You’re too good to me,” he said softly, his crimson-and-gold eyes locked on yours.

“You don’t get to decide that,” you replied teasingly, your fingers interlacing with his. “I stayed because I love you, Seijuro. That’s my choice.”

He smiled faintly, his gaze filled with an emotion so rare it took your breath away. Slowly, he leaned in, pressing a gentle kiss to your forehead.

When he pulled back, his lips hovered close to yours. “I don’t deserve you,” he murmured, his voice filled with both guilt and affection.

“You deserve love, Seijuro,” you whispered, leaning closer. “And I’m not going anywhere.”

This time, you closed the distance, your lips meeting his in a kiss that was soft, tender, and full of unspoken promises.

[sansaorgana]

👀 Gale showing his wife just how much he missed her overseas?

hello, love! 😌 I've already written a smutty fic like that here so this time I went with a scenario of Buck coming back home and the emotional aspect of this situation since they haven't seen each other in almost two years 😳😭🥺

my inbox is open for blurb/short fic requests for major cleven 🤗

When Buck was leaving his wife to go to Europe, he was planning to come back to her quickly after finishing his twenty five missions as fast as possible. Or he would die, which was also a possibility. But he certainly wasn’t planning to get shot down and end up in a German camp for the rest of the war.

Every day, week, month he spent there was filled with one thought only – lost time. All the time he was losing on surviving at all costs instead of living his life at home with his wife who was bravely and patiently waiting.

“Do you think they're still waiting for us? Our girls?” DeMarco asked one evening when they were playing cards and killing time.

“You’re asking as if you were so faithful yourself,” Bucky teased him. “Plenty of men back home hunting for the military wives.”

Buck shot him an angry glance for a second. He had been faithful to his wife. And he was sure she had been faithful to him, too. He wanted to be.

“Don’t look at me like that, Buck,” his friend pushed him playfully. “You guys have seen his wife?” He asked the others and they nodded in response. They all had seen a picture of Mrs. Cleven because Buck always kept it with him and occasionally stared at it with soppy puppy eyes. “What I’m saying is that I’m sure there are lots of men ‘round town who chase her,” Bucky explained.

“Thank you for clarifying,” Gale gritted his teeth.

“And she’s only a woman after all, we’re all humans with needs,” DeMarco joined the teasing. 

Buck stood up as the men looked up at him, confused.

“Come on, we are teasing,” Bucky grinned at him.

“I will not participate in this,” his friend sat on his bed instead and opened a book to read.

It was none of his business how his friends treated their wives and relationships but he was serious about his and he respected his wife more than anything. However, their jokes and teasing had planted a seed of insecurity in his mind. 

When she held him for the first time after his return, it felt surreal. Her hands were so soft when they cupped his face, yet they squeezed him so tight that he felt like she would crush his organs. Gale couldn’t stop looking at her face, her sparkling eyes, her smile, every tiny wrinkle on her face, every little detail that he had forgotten already; that the black-and-white picture failed to capture.

He was back home but he felt like he was put in a glass jar. People’s voices sounded as if they were coming from another room. His wife’s hand squeezed his and it was the only thing grounding him. Even his own house felt odd and strange – he had remembered it differently. Now it was decorated with Welcome Home signs and filled with the neighbours patting his back and asking him millions of questions per minute.

So when they all left and he closed the door behind the last couple living down the street, Buck sighed with relief and turned around to face reality. The house was dark at this hour but there were dim lights turned on in every room on the ground floor. His wife was taking care of the dishes in the kitchen and he looked at his face in the mirror by the front door.

There were scars scattered all over his cheeks and he looked exhausted. But other than that, he was a lucky bastard who had gotten home safe and sound. Even if it had taken him much longer than expected.

Gale fixed his hair in the mirror and entered the kitchen, awkwardly leaning on the doorframe. It was his home but it didn’t feel like his space anymore. It was hers now – his wife’s. She was humming a song and washing the plates and cups with an apron put loosely over her cocktail dress.

“Where did you get a dress like that?” He asked softly and she turned around with a smile.

“Oh! You startled me for a second,” she gasped. “I’m not used to having someone creeping up on me like that,” she admitted and Buck approached her to start drying the freshly washed dishes with a cloth. He wanted to help in any way. “I bought it last week. Been saving money for something special for your return and since it took you so long to come back to me…” she chuckled nervously, “I saved quite a lot.”

“I’m sorry,” Buck blushed at her joke.

“No, baby, don’t be sorry. It was them Krauts who didn’t want to let you go, am I right?” She pushed his shoulder with hers and went back to washing the remaining cups. “If I was them, I wouldn’t want to let you go either,” she added.

She always tried to joke about almost anything, to turn everything into a situation worth laughing or at least smiling about. It was one of the things Buck adored her for.

They finished washing and drying the dishes and she took her apron off with a sigh.

“I’ll finish cleaning tomorrow,” she told him.

“I will do it. Tomorrow,” Buck told her and she smiled faintly at him.

“Come, sit on the porch with me,” she held his hand as if he was made of glass and led him outside. There was a wooden bench on the porch and a small light turned on, flowers in the pots and an ashtray.

“You smoke now?” Buck raised an eyebrow at his wife as he sat down.

“No, only sometimes. You see, I had women coming here in the evenings,” she explained and sat down next to him, “and we would sit here for hours just like that. And talk,” she added and laid her head on his shoulder.

He nearly flinched at that gesture. It was such a long time that he wasn’t used to affection anymore. Yet he craved more of it.

“I’m glad you weren’t lonely,” he whispered and put his arm around her.

“Oh, but I was… So awfully lonely,” she looked up at him and he looked down to meet her gaze. Her eyes filled with tears.

“My friends were teasing me that…” Buck swallowed thickly, “...that a woman like you… Well, that she’d be chased ‘round town by all the men here.”

He felt stupid admitting that and he knew that this sort of accusation would hurt her. But she didn’t look angry nor sad. She only chuckled.

“No men left, no,” she shook her head. “All the best ones were away or dead,” she hugged his chest and he sighed with relief. “And what about you, Major Cleven? Am I supposed to believe you’ve been faithful?”

“Not many women in a camp for the captive pilots, you know?” Buck rubbed her back.

“But I mean before that,” her finger played with one of the buttons of his shirt.

“You can ask Bucky if you don’t believe me.”

“Oh, I believe you,” she laughed. “You know, my friends teased me, too. They were saying there ain’t no way my man’s no cheater. But I knew you would never do that. I said, my Buck would rather die than look at another woman. And they all thought I was crazy,” she told him.

“You aren’t crazy,” Buck shook his head and leaned in to kiss the top of her head. “And you smell so nice. Is that a new perfume?”

“I didn’t use perfume,” she answered.

“Then it’s just you. You smell so nice,” he hummed to himself and buried his face in her hair.

She curled herself up in his arms and bit on her lip before asking in a shaky voice:

“Do you still love me?”

Gale’s heart skipped a beat as he looked down and raised her chin to make her look up.

“What do you mean?”

“Do you still love me?” She repeated the question and he took a deep breath in but she didn’t let him answer. “I know you think you do. And you had my picture but I am not that picture, Buck. I know you loved the picture and your little scenarios you were creating inside your head to keep yourself alive and I am not angry at you, not at all. But now when you’re back and when you see me, do you still love me or are you disappointed? Perhaps some part of you wishes I was that picture instead?” Her lower lip trembled as tears streamed down her cheeks.

“I don’t know what to say, darling,” he admitted and wiped her cheeks with his thumbs. “But I can show you. Come,” he stood up gently and raised her up with him to lead her back inside and pick her up bridal style to carry her upstairs to their bedroom. Her bedroom. He hadn’t slept there for almost two years.

Buck switched the light on and laid his wife on the bed gently as she kicked her shoes off of her feet. He hovered over her on bed and joined their lips together in a sweet and gentle kiss as his fingertips caressed her jaw and neck.

“I missed you,” he whispered after breaking the kiss and looking deep into her eyes. “I missed the real you. That picture was never enough,” he assured her and she smiled at him before throwing her hands around his neck to pull him down for another kiss. Hers was more eager, though; it was hungry and sloppy and it encouraged him to roam his hands more freely all around her body.

“I’m scared,” she breathed out. “I’m scared that I’ve grown too used to being alone.”

“You’ll grow used to having me around again the same way. I’m not letting you go, sweetheart,” he bopped on her nose and she rolled her eyes with a chuckle.

“Buck Cleven, my hero,” her delicate hands cupped his cheeks and caressed the scars with her fingertips.

“I’m no hero,” he protested.

“To me you are,” she insisted and furrowed her brows. “You had to be in so much pain and I wish I could take at least some of it.”

“I would never want you to,” Buck kissed her wrist softly. “It would spoil all your sweetness.”

“Oh, it’s already spoiled. You haven’t seen me at my worst,” she confessed and he looked at her face, worryingly. “When I was going crazy without you here all alone. You’d send me to asylum if you saw.”

“I would not,” he assured her, seriously. “You haven’t seen me at my worst either. I don’t think you would like me like that,” he swallowed thickly as the horrific memories flashed in front of his eyes. “The things I did to come back to you…”

“Shh, I don’t have to know,” she pulled his face down and placed soft kisses upon his cheeks, nose and chin. “Unless you want to share it with me one day. But you don’t have to tell me anything, Buck.”

“I’m just so happy to be home,” he whispered almost inaudibly, their faces so close that their lips were touching.

“And I’m happy to have you back, baby,” she smiled and fixed his hair.

“Every breath was for you, every step, every bomb I dropped, every bullet I avoided, every day and every night. Just to come back to you,” he kept looking deep into her eyes. “I’m sorry it took so long.”

“Major Cleven,” she shook her head and rubbed her nose with his, “your wife would wait a million years for you, don’t you know…?”

MASTERLIST || BUCK MASTERLIST

[i-cant-sing]

PLS PLS WRITE THE PLATONIC YANDERE MIGUEL OHARA FIC IM BEGGINF 🙏🙏🙏🧎‍♂️🧎‍♂️🧎‍♂️🧎‍♂️🧎‍♂️WE NEED MORE PLATONIC FICS OF THIS MAN

(Thank you for reading this and have a great day!!)

I definitely see dad Miguel treating reader like a child, no matter what age you are. You could be a strong, independent woman, and to Miguel... you're a baby🥺 Everytime you get frustrated when he tells you no, or doesn't allow you to do what you want, he thinks you look absolutely adorable, your brows furrowed and your nostrils flared, and Miguel just has to just lean down to your level and you think that he's gonna offer you an explanation and in his mind, he does, but all he really says is-

"I know what's best for you, mija."

And if you dare to say "you're not my dad!", he won't say anything because yeah, you're right, but he will stare at you intimidatingly until you either take your words back or change the topic.

I think Miguel is not someone who talks much (but he still expects you to converse with him regularly) and so when he doesn't wanna argue with you, he may or may not shoot a web to seal your lips shut, just so that you give him enough time to explain (which again he doesnt), but he does use this time to tell you that you're grounded and then again, uses his strength against you to pick you up like a little bratty kitten and drop you back to your room.

I also think that Miguel definitely sees you as this helpless creature that would absolutely DIE without him. It doesn't matter if you're a spider-person like him, no. To him, you're just a frail kitten that needs papa Miguel's help to shelter her from the pouring rain and bubble wrap you and cuddle you and just- protect you from this all too harsh world.

And you could be trying to break free from his grasp, going of about how he didnt need you to pull you from your universe, how you had your life under control and what not, and Miguel would just sigh and shake his head and mutter "Teenagers🙄" EVEN IF YOU'RE AN ADULT.

Miguel isnt someone who talks about his feelings, definitely not at first, he just bottles everything up until the lid pops off and someone else has to face his fury. BUT that doesn't he doesn't expect you to talk about yours. He's super observant so the moment he notices the slightest change in your mood, or the way you breathe, oh he's bugging you to tell him whats wrong. I mean he's breathing down your neck, which as you already know isnt great because he is the only person you're allowed to talk to (minus Peter B Parker and Mayday), and eventually, he may even tie you upside down with his web to make you talk. And he's just nodding and offering up solutions/therapeutic advices (not really, they're just compromises) while you're getting blood rush from hanging off the ceiling for so long.

Also going back to the "you're not my dad!" thing, I think if you say it enough times, it does start to hurt him and eventually he reaches a breaking point where he does end up getting mad and bares his teeth at you as he yells "I AM, NOW! AND IF YOU DON'T START LISTENING TO ME MIJA, YOU WILL REGRET IT! NOW, MARCH OFF TO YOUR ROOM!" And sure, you get spooked enough to run off, but not before you yell like a very cliche, angsty teen "I hate you!" and you slam your door close before he could scold you again. He still comes right up to your door, probably to ground you even more, but he doesnt have the heart to open the door when he hears your sobs. Damn, now you just broke his heart. So, Miguel leaves, deciding its best that you two get some space to cool off.

Now I see Miguel as the type of dad who doesnt really apologise (mostly because he doesn't feel like he's done anything wrong) but instead offers a parley or a white flag of sorts in the form of food (like some cut up fruits and veggies, or even your fav takeout) and sure, his heart is still heavy with guilt, even more so when he sees your swollen red eyes indicating how you've been crying for days, so he clears his throat, maybe shifts in his seat a little and asks about your day or something random, heartbreak intensifying 100X when you refuse to talk to him, making him resort to something thats... uncomfortable for you both.

A hug.

I mean this has to be the most awkward hug in history, because Miguel just swoops you up and places you in his lap, pulling you to his chest and telling you that he's not letting go until you talk. STILL NOT APOLOGISING, I mean there is a greater likelihood that you may end up apologising to him but Miguel sure as hell isnt saying the word "sorry" (unless you're dead, specifically if u die in his arms hehe).

[overly-verbose]

It’s not much but it’s honest work, trying to draw on a 8 hour flight never results in good final work, but god does it make laying shit out at the beginning interesting. always for the shits and giggles.

Probably gonna do other mini pieces in between since this will probably take a while.

With that in mind, perish by my hand

(I eat dry wall with much enthusiasm when re-reading your fics. I am 50% dry wall, 50% malice, and 100% throwing hands)

*stares*

"Not much work" they say

Meanwhile, I say;

*nyooms around happily, going a bit insane at the amazingness of this*

SHAJWJJSJ THANK YOU??? That's- amazing???

Such a beautiful, beautiful and utterly hilarious piece of work, truly 👀👀👀👀🥺

The four first more serious-looking frames are- woah!! You drew SIkuna so cool!!! Jsjwjwjsj

(and you gave him, amongst other things, the slightly pointed ears!!! That fits so well in this artstyle!!! Yay!!! :DDD)

The rest is just- *chefs kiss* as well absolute PEAK of a shitpost (100% Appreciative use of the word)

(I mean the Whole is a beautiful high-effort shitpost but you know) lmfao,

SIkuna's expressions are Hilarious (the little dots of Red in im his eyes at the end lmao, my guy is PANIK-) and the way Yuji appeared in the Domain in thE FAMILY GUY DEATH POSE MADE ME CACKLE LMAO- 😂😂😂

I am already absolutely Amazed, and looking forward to both the mini pieces (although you're of course not obligated to do those at all (and neither are you to do the bigger one ofc, it's 100% up to your own want and I appreciate it greatly 🥺🥺🥺🤗🤗🤗) and the finished thing (*explodes from joy*)

I'd gladly perish by your hand for this ngl, and just overall thank you so much!!!!!! :DDDDDD

(also, I hope you don't mind, but I screenshot the frames and would like to include the screenshots so that everyone can see their beauty in full;

(this took way too many tries but they're worth it lmao- (forgive the imperfect cropping of them in places pls)))