#(like. with my mood i mean. and my approach to life as a whole :P seasonal depression is no more 🥰)

[daz4i]

having a bit you improvised be so well accepted that it immediately makes it into the show is like crack to me as an actor

[have-you-seen-my-sanity]

Short Temper

Dark!Poe Dameron x Fem!pilotReader

Dead dove do not eat - you'll get exactly what's in the tags!

Tags: Leia being such a sweetheart to reader, 18+!!, punishment, Poe being kind of possessive, p in v, blowjob, deep throating, overstimulation, dark Poe, Black Squadron members being silly lol.

Today was a rather stressful day at the Resistance, a pilot in Black Squadron was sick and you had to jump in and take his spot for a training simulation. But today, everyone knew Commander Poe Dameron had bad mood, he couldn't sleep the last night due to a Generator near his quarters kept beeping.

You just finished up preparing your X-Wing as General Leia Organa came up to you along with C-3PO by her side.

"Hey," she gave you a warm smile, "I saw how nervous you looked earlier when you had to jump in for today. Don't be, Black Squadron has the nicest pilots I've ever worked with." Leia placed a gentle hand on your shoulder, giving you a reassuring squeeze.

"I know. Well, except Poe today." you laughed making Leia chuckle

"Yeah, except him. But please keep an eye on him, I don't want the whole base being moodier than him."

"Where are you going?" you asked curiously.

"I and C-3PO are going to Coruscant for a meeting. And until then, Poe will be in command until I'm back."

"Alright. But please be back as soon as possible, we don't want Poe to lose his shit." you chuckled.

"I promise I will. Take care." she gave you a pat on the shoulder and another warm smile, turning around and leaving for her meeting.

-

Soon enough, all pilots of Black Squadron gathered at the hangar, they all welcomed you, immediately cracking jokes with you and sharing laughter.

After a while one member spoke up, "Well, here he comes, Commander bad mood himself."

You had to suppress a laughter and went to your X-Wing. Then Poe approached you,

"Hi there, jumper. Got everything prepared?"

"Yes, sir." you nodded.

"Good. All you have to do is to follow my lead and don't do anything stupid." with that Poe walked to his X-Wing and climbed in.

----------------------------------------------------

The training simulation went well for the most part, but at one point you pulled off a stunt inside a nearby asteroid field to destroy the target. You chased the target through the field, doing some really close manouvers but at the end you successfully destroyed the last target while Poe was barking at you over the comm to get back and not risk your life for a dummy target. But you got sick and cut off your comm.

Now Black Squadron was back at the hangar, you changed into your mechanic uniform to re-new some paint on your X-Wing. Soon everyone else got out of their X-Wings and up to you. You thought they all would scold you but instead they laughed,

"Damn, you pulled off quite the show! Ha!"

"I wish we could have seen Poe's face when you've made it out of there alive."

"Poe did not like that at all!"

"I bet if you pull off more stunts like that, you could be even better than Poe!" Another one laughed.

"Oh oh... Poe's coming." one pointed at the black X-Wing that has just entered the hangar and landed.

All the other members of Black Squadron quickly pissed off to avoid Poe's temper but you decided to stay to prevent further provocation.

Poe removed his helmet and climbed out of his cockpit, immediately walking towards you. As you saw him coming closer, you took a deep breath and prepared mentally for the scolding you're about to get.

"What the hell was that?!" Poe barked, his tone was authoritive and demanding answers.

"Poe- I'm sorry, I-" Poe cut you off,

"You risked your life for a fucking training target, pulling off dangerous stunts inside an asteroid field!" Poe left no room for arguments.

"I'm sorry! I won't do it again!" You pleaded but he sighed in annoyance and shook his head.

"Sorry won't cut it." he responded sternly.

"What do you mean, Dameron?"

"Oh, you'll see. Come with me."

You stood there confused and Poe raised an eyebrow, "Don't make me repeat myself. Come with me now." he ordered almost coldly.

You did as he asked and followed him. He lead you into an empty supply room with a table and some chairs inside. He turned on the lights and motioned for you to enter first. After stepping inside, Poe typed something on the console beside the door and it turned red, signalizing the door is locked.

"Uhm, Poe? What are you doing?" you asked slowly and carefully.

He turned around to face you, "I'm going to teach you a lesson. A lesson to never risk your life for some stupid stunts." he walked towards you and pulled out a chair from the table and sat down.

"Get on your knees." he ordered.

"On my knees?" you asked confused.

"Do it." he growled.

You hesistated but slowly getting down on your knees. You slowly realized how Poe wanted to punish you.

Poe slowly unzipped his orange flight suit, "You know, I had a really bad fucking night. And your disobedience was the last drop."

He reached inside and pulled out his already hard cock, giving it a few strokes.

"Suck it." He ordered, tilting his head to the side slightly as if daring you to disobey.

Slowly, you leaned in, his other hand coming up behind you and grabbed the back of your neck. His hand was hot against your cold skin, it almost made you afraid of Poe.

You gave his cockhead a few licks, looking up at him and saw the desire in his eyes. A desire to grab your head and fuck your throat so hard it will be sore the next day. But he wanted you to do everything.

"Go ahead." His hand on the back of your neck gave you a warning squeeze.

You leaned in and took his girth in your mouth as far as you could. He was so big you couldn't fit him all the way. Poe groaned deeply and you looked up to see his eyes fluttered close and his head thrown back.

"Fuck, keep going." he looked back down at you and licked his lips hungrily.

-

You kept sucking him, the only sounds filling the small room were the wet sounds and Poe's groaning.

"You're so good at this." He praised and moved his hand upwards to tangle into your hair.

-

"I'm gonna cum. You better swallow every drop or else you will suck my cock again and again until your stomach is full of my cum."

Poe warned as his breath got ragged and he suddenly plunged his cock all the way down your throat, making you gag as he came down your throat.

He released you and you got back up, turning around and ready to leave.

"Where do you think you're going? I didn't say we are finished here. I'm not done with you yet. Come back here."

Poe stood up and walked towards you.

"But you just came." you protested and he chuckled,

"And? Did I say you could leave? We're not finished. Not by a long shot, sweetheart."

Poe grabbed you and pushed you against the wall face first.

"This is a lesson in obedience after all." he leaned close and unfastened your uniform pants, pulling them down along with your panties.

"You know, maybe I will keep you in my squadron. See how you will be become my good little girl and follow your Commander's orders like you should."

he reached out and stroked your clit rythmically, the pace increasing stroke after stroke.

Your moans filled the room and Poe soon pushed two fingers inside you after you were dripping onto the ground beneath you.

-

"Yes, keep moaning, let the whole base hear how much of a good girl you are for me." He incouraged, your breath getting ragged as you felt your orgasm approach.

Poe felt your cunt clench around his fingers, but his pace only slowed down momentarilly as you came down from the orgasm.

He kept pumping his fingers in and out of you, slowly. Your poor pussy was overstimulated, you couldn't take anymore and Poe suddenly removed his fingers.

"Now I think you're wet enough."

Poe was already stroking his once again hard cock.

"What do you mea--" you got cut of by the sudden intrusion of his big cock into your overstimulated entrance.

Poe leaned in close, "Ohhhh, your pussy isn't going to be spared from my cock." he drawled out and leaned down towards your neck, kissing and sucking on the skin. Then he suddenly bit down.

You gasped, and squeezed him in response which made him groan.

"Fuck, you're so tight, honey." his thrusts were slow at first, but he quickly increased the pace as he heard your moans and whimpers getting more needily.

-

His grip on your hips got tighter and his thrusts harder and faster.

You felt your second orgasm build up, making you arch your back into him and your moans getting louder.

"I knew you would love my cock, baby. But Don't worry, you will get more of me."

Poe felt himself getting close again too, and soon enough he buried his whole girth inside you and came hard. He buried his face into the crook of your neck as his breath slowly returned to normal. He pulled out and handed you some tissue to clean yourself up. Poe cleaned himself up too and put himself back into his boxers.

Poe turned his attention back to you, watching as you pulled your panties and pants back up.

"You better listen to me from now on and do what I say. Because if not, then this will be a common thing." He waited for your answer.

"Yes." You nodded weakly.

"Good." With a satisfied nod, Poe unlocked the door and stepped out, leaving you there overstimulated but satisfied.

[xxvalkyriesxx]

Labyrinth of the Night - Chapter One

She laid broken and bloody in the street one moment and the next she was whole again, but now her humanity was lost forever.

OR Rhys hits Feyre with her motorcycle and in order to save her, turns her into a vampire.

Next Chapter

Read below or on AO3

AN: Hi Everyone! Welcome to my first Feysand fic! I'm trying to complete this spooky fic before Halloween (which I know is under a week, so we'll how well this turns out)

Please be aware that this fic features Sapphic!Feysand. And some Tamlin slander.

CW: Blood, cheating (not main characters)

Mood board made by me :p

Snippet:

Little thoughts came to her mind as she felt everything slow down. Death was here, and it was going to sweep her away like Elain. Feyre expected Death to be the grim reaper with a ratted cloak and a scythe, not a woman with ink black hair braided in a fishtail and eyes like the twilight sky.

“Darling?”

Her voice was husky, maybe even flirtatious, but Feyre couldn’t tell anymore. She was dying. And this woman had to be an angel.

At least I’m not going to hell.

**

“Feyre, please. This is my fifth time apologizing. Can’t you just forgive me?” Tamlin asked as he watched the young woman stuffing a backpack filled with clothes, some snacks, a tablet, and chargers.

Blue gray eyes glared daggers into his sunlight green ones. She watched him cringe and look away. Feyre’s gaze glanced at a nearby photo frame of them last year around the holidays. Feyre’s smile was so dim while Tamlin’s was bright and big.

“Feyre, I didn’t mean to do this. But what could I have done? You haven’t been home much recently.”

“Do you hear yourself? You just admitted that you’ve been cheating on me with the owner of the gallery that I’ve been working for the last three years. And you’ve been sleeping with her for at least the last two months.”

Feyre continued. “Not only that, but she’s stolen two of my own collection themes in the last year. And when I finally get a spot in the gallery, you end up fucking her!”

“And on top of all of that, two of my painted canvases are missing.” Feyre pointed to the few pieces she had left from her gallery from last week that rested on her unorganized desk. Most of her pieces had been surprisingly bought by an art collector. But there were still some left when she uninstalled her show as it was only running for a short time. 

“Are you implying that Ianthe stole them?”

“They didn’t just walk off on their own!”

Tamlin sighed, pinching the bridge of his nose. “Ianthe warned me about this.”

Feyre sneered. “About what? That you think I’m crazy? That you dove in between her legs without a second thought?!”

“It didn’t start off like that. You were complaining about wanting to have your own collection, so I asked her to give you a spot in the gallery and she said she would think about it. When you finally got your space, you ended up staying so late in the studio.”

Tamlin laid a hand on his chest, over his heart. “I was lonely. And Ianthe was there, and she took care of what I needed.”

Her mouth dropped slightly. “You asked Ianthe to give me a spot in the gallery? The one woman I’ve been working my ass under for years? Did she let you fuck her before or after you asked?”

Feyre held up her hand as Tamlin went to explain. “Don’t fucking answer that.”

Tamlin approached Feyre as she took a step back, closer to the front door. 

“Feyre, this is all in the past now. Your collection finished last week. Now we can focus on our relationship.”

Feyre shook her head. “No. I’m tired of feeling this way, Tamlin! You’re draining everything out of me.” She grabbed her phone off the nearby table, the percentage in yellow as it read under 30%.

“I’m not going to hear you out. I’m not going to forgive you. This was the last straw. I should’ve listened to Nesta.”

Tamlin growled. “Your whore of a sister is a waste of life. You left your family because I provided a future for you. They couldn’t even take care of you.”

Feyre squeezed her eyes expecting more tears, but there was none left in that moment. None left for the man she was in love with. No, the man she thought she loved. When Feyre didn’t answer, Tamlin raised his voice. She hated how her knees buckled slightly in fear.

“So what, you’re going to leave me? Go to your sister? She’s all you have now since your other sister is dead. Do you even know where Nesta is? Is she even still in the state?”

“Fuck you, Tamlin.” 

Quick as she could, Feyre turned the door knob of the front door before bolting out of the townhouse into the rainy night of downtown Baltimore.

**

“Fuck, why won’t you pick up?!” Feyre yelled into her phone as the automatic voice said for a third time that the phone number had been disconnected.

She hadn’t spoken to Nesta in years, not since the morning she left her two sisters in their family home on the Eastern Shore of Maryland.

“Feyre, just think about this for one second. You’re barely nineteen. This guy is almost thirty. And you’ve known him for what? A month? Maybe two? Just because dad’s dead doesn’t mean you can just make any and all stupid decisions.”

“Oh shut up, Nesta. I want out of this awful house. I hate everything about this house!”

“No you don’t, Fey. You’re being a child.” Nesta stated as she went to reach for Feyre’s hand.

“No! I’m not staying in this house for one more second. I hate it! I hate you!” Feyre yelled.

Instantly Nesta stepped back and for a fraction of a second Feyre swore there were tears in Nesta’s eyes but in a flash, they were gone.

“Fine, go with your boyfriend. Do whatever the fuck you want. Why would I care?” Nesta sneered as she turned her back before heading back inside, slamming the front door.

“Fey, Nesta is right on this. Can’t you just stay for another month or two. You’re young,  and we haven’t even met this guy yet.” Her other sister, Elain said. 

Elain stood slightly timid from the heated exchange of her sisters. Her big doe eyes pleaded with Feyre.

“Please, Fey?”

“No. I’m not staying here. I need out, Elain. Go see Nesta or something. She needs to be comforted more than I do.”

Feyre watched as her second older sister shook her head in shame before she stepped back and went back into the house. This time the front door shut quietly, but the quietness was drowned out by the loud squeals of tires as a car stopped at the curb of the front yard.

“Ready to go, Thorns and All?” A man with long blonde hair said as he peered from the driver seat. He used Feyre’s username from reddit.

“Rose Court?” Feyre asked. She blushed slightly as the man stared a bit too long at her chest.

“The one and only. But like I said in our text, call me Tamlin, Felicity.”

“It’s Feyre.”

“Right, sorry. The trunk’s opened so put your bags in there. Hurry up too, I want to beat all of the traffic on 50 and 95.”

The thought of Elain painted Feyre in pain. Her sister had died in a freak accident with her car falling off the Bay Bridge into the shallow waters of the Chesapeake. Her body was never found, and Feyre never went to the funeral.

“It’s tragic, but your sister didn’t help take care of you, right?” Tamlin asked, knowing the answer.

“Ellie is my sister, and she’s dead.” Feyre sobbed into his chest.

“I know, Thorns. But listen, she never took care of you, so why waste your breath on her? Let her soul rest. Maybe we can visit her gravestone when the commotion has died down.”

She died over two years ago, just a year after Feyre moved out. No matter how hard Feyre tried, Tamlin wouldn’t let her go visit. Elain’s graves was in their hometown of Berlin. He always mentioned the bridge was dangerous and that they’ll go together at some point but they would have to take the long route of cutting through Delaware to get there.

But they never did.

Feyre also never got her licenses and from Baltimore city, that trip was at least two hours one way by bus and standard traffic. Tamlin would notice if she was gone too long. And if he didn’t know where she was at all times, he would freak. He would accuse her of cheating on him. Ironic.

The rain was only pouring harder as Feyre reached the Inner Harbor. It was late enough that some of the stores had closed, but a few restaurants and bars were still opened. Feyre glanced at her phone again seeing the battery at 15% now.

“Shit.” I need to get to a bar fast to charge my phone.

Feyre thanked every star that she ended up buying a waterproof backpack a few months ago. She was caught in the rain one night as she went from the studio to the townhouse.

I don’t even know if the house is still there in Berlin. I don't even know how to get a hold of Nesta.

Feyre didn’t want to think of the reality that she literally had no one in her corner. For the last three years it’s only been Tamlin.

Don’t cry! Crying makes everything worse. Focus, Fey! I can cry later. 

Not far from her, a nearby bar’s lights shone brightly in the darkness of the city sky. Feyre felt hope flutter in her chest. She picked up the pace wanting to get there as fast as possible. It was reckless to ignore the red stop light for pedestrians, but the sooner she was out of the rain, the sooner she could come up with a plan.

But then a bright light engulfed her before she felt her body leave the ground. Dazed by the rain clouds as her body smacked into the asphalt of the road, broken and bloody.

Little thoughts came to her mind as she felt everything slow down. Death was here, and it was going to sweep her away like Elain. Feyre expected Death to be the grim reaper with a ratted cloak and a scythe, not a woman with ink black hair braided in a fishtail and eyes like the twilight sky.

“Darling?”

Her voice was husky, maybe even flirtatious, but Feyre couldn’t tell anymore. She was dying. And this woman had to be an angel.

At least I’m not going to hell.

**

Rhys knew better than to be speeding down the streets of Baltimore, but to be fair she needed to be back in Frederick before the morning and still had to make a few stops in Catonsville and Ellicott City before she could venture home.

Driving the motorcycle seemed pointless to her cousin. She always asked her why ride it when they were just as fast, if not faster.

Rhys didn’t want her cousin to be peering too closely into her thoughts so she mentioned technology had evolved over the centuries, so should they. But what Rhys withheld from her cousin was that riding was one of the closest things she felt to being human again.

And now that feeling was stripped away as an almost dead woman laid feet from the crosswalk.

“Fuck, fuck. This wasn’t supposed to happen.”

Rhys ran over to the woman and her eyes widened just a bit. “Darling, are you hurt anywhere?”

The rain poured over their bodies but Rhys saw the familiar blue gray eyes that she’s seen every day for the last two years, only these eyes didn’t glare at her, but stared in wonder as they took in their final sights.

“Nesta is going to kill me” Rhys mumbled underneath her breath.

She pulled the woman into her arms. The rain had diluted some of the spilled blood already. Rhys held her breath for a moment, trying to soothe the ache of her hunger clawing at her throat and mind.

“I’m not letting you die today, Feyre darling.” 

Then Rhys leant down to Feyre’s neck and sunk her fangs right near the fading pulse.

[zaraomarrogers]

Always and Forever - 5

Pairing: Steve Rogers x Fem Reader

Warnings: Angst, Fluff, sexual content, 18+, minors do not interact

~*~

The moment Steve got into his hotel room his phone went off. He groaned seeing the caller ID.

“What is it Tony?” Steve wasn’t in a mood for Tony’s late night chitter chatter. Few rounds of beer with Bucky got him slightly drunk and he knew Tony would drain his remaining little energy with gossips.

“Who bit you Rogers? Why the sour mood?” Tony teased, earning another groan from Steve.

“What made you call me at...” Steve checked the time on his wrist watch, “11:15 pm? Did Pepper ignore you again?”

“Nope!!” Tony said popping the ‘p' and continued. “Actually, she called me this morning. She sounded so pissed because she was expecting me there, not you.”

“Fucking finally!!” Steve muttered.

“Language, Rogers!”

“Really Tony! You missed the event when you could have come, you had a free weekend”

“Calm down Rogers! You did a favour and I’d be grateful like all the other times you’d been there for me and this company.” Tony said in one breath and continued, “Its not about me attending the event, I called you for something else.”

“Judging by your tone, it’s another favour, isn’t it?” Steve laid down on bed, adjusting his head on the pillows.

“I swear I would have kissed you, Rogers, ofcourse if you were here but since you’re not I can send you some...” Tony turned the camera on on his phone, bring it near his lips and with horrible sound of muahh, he kissed the camera.

“... virtual kiss, if that works for you, bro.” Steve rolled his eyes at Tony’s cheekiness.

“What’s the favour, Tony?” he came straight to the point.

“So, I’ve heard the show was a great success. Y/n Carter was the highlight of the show not in only in terms of managing and arranging the whole event but as a show stopper for the designer.” Steve’s heart skipped a beat on Y/n’s mention. He sat up, “...her work was outstanding and different fashion outlets are approaching her.... but Pepper doesn’t wana  lose her...” Steve took a breath he didn’t know he was holding. “.... She’s one of the Pepper's most trusted employees and also her friend. The only problem is, some rivals are peeking their heads up after the success and the fact that Pepper has already lost her employees on big positions for obvious reasons and now she needs someone to make the company stable.” Tony was now contemplating his next words.

“What do you want me to do Tony?” Steve was curious to know where this conversation was heading.

“She asked for my help and I couldn’t have said no, Steve. I assured her that you’ll help her out with the company. You have experience, you’re smart and knows exactly what it takes to keep it firm on its feet....”

Whatever Tony had said  wasn’t hard to comprehend but Steve was stunned. If what Tony had just told him meant he could stay here and it would give him opportunity to be in Malcolm’s life. He wanted to thank the universe to give him this chance to be with his son.

He had planned to call Tony in the morning to ask for some days off of work but this new opportunity of working in the same place as Y/n would may be fix something between them. He was hopeful. He was happy.

“STEEEEVE?? Are you even listening?”

“I’d stay.” Steve said.

“Pardon.”

“I said I’m going to stay and help Pepper and the company.” Steve said.

“Are you sure? I mean you’re not angry or something? I could’ve asked....”

“Its fine Tony! Just send me all the details and I’d fix a meeting with Pepper first thing.” All of a sudden Steve  found a new purpose.

“Sure man! Thanks again. I don’t know what I’d do without you.” Tony said gratefully.

“Don’t repeat yourself Tony, I was ignoring you the first time.” Steve smirked, disconnecting the line.

Steve was contented that his stay in Boston had been sorted out, only thing bothering him was his insignificant relationship with Peggy. He wanted to end things on phone, sure it’d be an asshole thing to do but did he care less.

No matter how much he thought would it be justified, he couldn’t do it. Sarah had raised him better. He smiled thinking about telling his Ma about little Malcolm. He’d call her first thing in the morning, he made a mental note. It had been just a day he had known about Malcolm’s existence and it brought him so much happiness. His little boy was hard copy of him but he got all his traits from his mama.

Steve chuckled looking at the  photos he had taken of his son during the day. A photo of him and Malcolm in the backyard taken by Bucky. Malcolm was clung onto his shoulders and laughing adorably. A video of them playing with a ball and Malcolm’s yelling I wuv you daddy loud and clear in it. He was already missing his little bean, his purpose of living now.

Steve wanted to thank Y/n. He wanted to tell her how grateful he was of her. She had let Malcolm known about him even when he wasn’t in their life. Steve would forever be in debt of her and she had raised their kid as a working single mother. He had never thought that there come a time when Y/n and him would act as strangers especially Y/n. He was unable to find any sort of emotion in her eyes. She was distant like she didn’t know him. Like they didn’t have anything she could remember. He remembered her throwing the coffee he brought for her in the bin. He knew he had hurt her in worst possible way but he didn’t know how to tell her that he was sorry. He was sorry because he didn’t make an effort to find her, to go after her. He was so embarrassed. He was so disgusted by himself that he thought not showing his face again would be the best thing he could  do for her. He thought he was punishing himself, he deserved this punishment but what he didn’t know was things would be so much different for Y/n and for him if he showed up. If he went after her.

He had fucked up!

 

~*~

 

Incessant buzzing of Steve’s phone on the night stand stirred him in deep sleep. He  pressed the slide to answer the call and immediately a wide grin adorned his godly features.

 

“Daddy? Where you? Call many times, no pick.” Malcolm chirped in his sweet voice.

“Good Morning, buddy! Sorry I was asleep. I have just woken up.” Steve said through smile. He heard Mal talking to Y/n, he was asking her to open the video. Steve sat up a little in bed, leaned against the headrest. He finger combed his hair and turned the video on. Malcolm was sitting in Y/n’s lap in the kitchen. Steve felt his swollen with happiness at the sight of mama and baby. Y/n’s hand was wrapped Mal for support. The little boy was obviously excited and energetic.

“Aww daddy in bed.” Malcolm giggled. Steve couldn’t help but stare at Y/n. Her hair were in pony tail. She was wearing a white t-shirt and her face had no sign of makeup. Steve forgot to take a breath.

“When see you daddy? I go pawk with mama. Pwease come.”

“I’d love that, buddy. But we need to ask mama if I can come along.” Steve could see how Y/n was looking anywhere but at the camera. She was clearly uncomfortable.

“Mama, can daddy come, pwease?”

“Yes, he can come.” Y/n said lightly. She kissed the side of Malcolm’s head.

“We go to the park every Sunday. You must have passed it yesterday while coming over, its right across the street.” She told Steve still avoiding the eye contact.

“Yeah! I’d be there in thirty minutes? Is that okay?”

“How thiwty minutes mama?” Malcolm asked now bouncing on his mama’s lap with excitement.

“Thirty minutes means half an hour. Daddy will be here in half an hour.” Y/n explained.

“Too much time, daddy. Come soon.” Malcolm whined.

“Okay I’d try my best to come before thirty minutes Mal.”

“Mal-pal, daddy needs to get ready and drive to the park. It will take at least thirty minute, sweetheart. How about we go to park and play on slides and daddy will join us.” Y/n reasoned with him.

“Okay mama.” Malcolm pouted and Y/n kissed him on the head again.

“Daddy, you pway on monkey baw with me. You howd me up up and more up and I jump. Okay daddy?” Malcolm asked Steve excitedly.

“Sure buddy. We’ll play whatever you pick.”

“Yaayyyyy daaaddyyy wuv you.” Malcolm screamed in pure joy and kissed his mama’s face.

“I love you too Mal.” Steve whispered. He didn’t know if Malcolm had heard him but Y/n looked at him first time in this video call. Steve couldn’t read her expression because she was quick to look away.

“Daddy wuv me, mama.” Malcolm confirmed.

“Yes.” She whispered.

“Hey buddy, you want me to bring anything for you?” Steve asked not wanting to break the lovely moment between Y/n and Malcolm.

“What anything daddy?” He asked innocently.

“Like something to eat. Doughnuts, pie, cookies, anything you say....”

Malcolm turned to see Y/n, his way of asking permission. Y/n smiled at him lovingly and reminded him that he had already taken breakfast.

“I eaten bweakfast al’eady, daddy. I no want anything.”

“Ohh no! Then daddy will come with coffee for him and mama. Is that okay?.”

“Is okay mama? Daddy bwing coffee fow you.”

“I have already had my coffee. No need to bring anything. C'mon Mal-pal, we gotta go to park or we’ll be late.”

“Okay mama. Daddy come soon pwease.” Malcolm said and send a flying kiss to Steve with a bye bye and disconnected the call once Steve assured him that he’d be there in thirty minutes.

 

~*~

 

“I’ve been meaning to speak with you.” Y/n initiated when Steve came to sit beside her on the bench, dusting off the mud from his shirt.

Malcolm was playing with other kids in the park. As promised, Steve had arrived at the park when Malcolm was on the slides. Once he saw his daddy, he ran to him and into his arms. Steve helped him climbing up the monkey bars. He told him a story of his childhood days when his parents use to take him to parks and different other places. They both almost had rolled on the mud and grass laughing and enjoying.

Y/n watched Malcolm having fun with Steve, something shift in her heart. She always wanted Malcolm to know his father and just be able to be with him. No matter how angry she was at Steve, she realised she’d do anything and everything to see her baby laugh and smile, just the way they were right now. It was her and Malcolm’s Sunday routine. They’d walk down the park after breakfast and spend an hour together, it was also unwinding for her.

 

“Go ahead, what is it you want to talk about?” Steve said softly, his tone still the same with her as it was four years ago. His eyes still held the same love and adoration for her.

“I need to make sure if you’re going to be in Malcolm’s life or it is just as coincidental as it seems.” Y/n���s eyes were on Malcolm, she could see him sliding down the slide with other kids.

“I want to stay. In fact, I’m staying and I’d make sure that I’d be in his life permanently.” He gently told her while trying to read her blank face.

“.... if I had known about him, I would be here from the beginning. Y/n/n, I know I’ve fucked up.....”

“That’s Y/n for you.” She harshly cut him off. “You’d be on Malcolm’s schedule if you are to stay here. I’ll send you his routine and then you can have your time with him.” Steve gulped hard, he didn’t want to show her how much he was hurting.

“Mal hasn’t started school, he goes to Alice’s day care. I don’t know if you remember, Alice runs a day care and I put Mal in there because I’m working full time, besides he’d be with Alice. I pick him up at around three in the afternoon and bring him to my work place. My boss's daughter and him are good friends and we have a small setup for both of them to play within the premises.” She gave him a heads up of Malcolm’s routine.

“If he’s spending rest of his time at your work then I get to meet him as well, daily.” A smile appeared on Steve’s face.

Y/n gave him a confused look.

“Tony asked me to help Pepper with the company.” He further explained, “I work at Stark Industries. I’m leading marketing department as their executive....” Y/n looked at him with wide eyes. She didn’t know what had possessed her heart was filled with so much happiness for him. Steve always wanted to be a part of Stark industries. It was his dream job and she felt so proud of him regardless of how things are between them right now.

“Congratulations!” She said in a small voice. “.... I mean... it’s  where you always wanted to be.” She cleared her throat at sudden awkwardness.

“Thank you Y/n. I wish things....”

“So you’re taking over our marketing and advertising, I didn’t know Pepper’s gonna take a decision.” She said the latter in a whisper but Steve heard it.

“Pepper called Tony to discuss this and Tony put me in, since I was already here for the event.” Steve explained.

“Mhmm...”

“By the way, it was a great event. You did an outstanding job Y/n/n... I mean Y/n... it was splendid. I’m so proud of you.”

They both looked at each other at the same time, holding each other’s gaze, like in a trance. While Steve’s gaze held pure love and affection, her’s had melancholy and heartache but one thing that was common between them was longing, longing for each other, for the life they’d dreamed of together.

Neither of them noticed when Malcolm tripped over and fell. Time they had spent together was reeling in front of their eyes. Y/n wanted nothing but to be in his arms again. Her safe place. Her home.

Steve was no different, he desperately needed her in his arms. He wanted to spend rest of his life holding her tightly and cherish her with every breath he had.  

Malcolm came to Y/n with a face as long as a fiddle, bringing his parents back to reality.

“Mama, I got a boo boo. You no see, why?” tears were about to spill from his eyes.

Y/n came to her senses and put him in her lap.

“I’m sorry Mal-pal. How’d you get this?” She inspected the tiny scraps on both his knees and smiled. Steve looked at Malcolm’s knees and heaved a sigh.

Malcolm didn’t answer her question, instead hid his face in her chest.

“Hey Buddy...” Steve started, he looked at Y/n for a go ahead signal and when she nodded at him, he continued. “.... Mama and I are sorry that we didn’t come to you. Because we know you’re a big boy now, and big boys don’t get upset with boo boo. Right Mama?”

“Yup! If we don’t get a boo boo, we won’t grow up Mal-pal. That’s how mama and daddy has become grown ups.”

Malcolm looked up at his mama first and then his daddy.

“I a big boy?” he asked curiously.

“Yes.” Steve and Y/n both said at the same time.

“.... and big boy gets to eat his favourite lunch.” Y/n suggested, “Dino nuggets and fries or veggie sandwich?”

Malcolm shook his head vigorously. “What daddy eat fow wunch, I eat same as daddy.”

“Daddy will have burger and fries. You want to have same lunch as daddy?” Steve said and earned a glare from Y/n.

“Yes! Mama buwge’ and fries, pwease.” Malcolm was excited.

“Mal-pal...”

“Pwease mama, pwease.”

“On one condition, you’re gonna have to eat your veggies in dinner. Promise?” Y/n hold out her hand.

“Pwomise mama.”

He jumped off her lap and onto Steve’s lap. “ ‘ets go, daddy.”

Steve roared with a laughter followed by Malcolm’s giggles. He stood up, Malcolm still clinging to him, “C'mon mama, we go with daddy.”  Y/n shook her head disapprovingly.

She followed them towards Steve’s car. It wasn’t how she had thought it would go. She couldn’t break her little boy's heart but she needed to make him understand that he’d spend his time with his daddy separately. It was going to stir many questions in Malcolm’s mind and she was willing to answer all his questions.

She had a slip up just minutes ago, she couldn’t let Steve hold this much power over her again. She didn’t want to end up hurting again. She knew Steve had said that he would stay here but how could she trust him when he promised her that he would always come to find her and he didn’t. She desperately wanted to protect her child from the same heartache and feeling of abandonment she had went through.

Should she limit Steve’s time with Malcolm?

How about only on weekends?

Or may be at her house, in her supervision....??

She couldn’t decide. She couldn’t think of anything. She needed to ask her dad or may be Alice would help her. Oh, they definitely will. But she knew what’s best for her child, she didn’t need anyone’s help.

In her conflicting thoughts she didn't realise Steve had hold her hands while crossing the road.

 

[mrs-gucci]

Anything Goes {Maurizio Gucci x Reader}

anonymous (half of their request):

I think the world needs a Maurizio x Studio 54 fic 👀

author’s notes: hello, hello! YES, I think we need this...and now we have it! thanks for sending it in <3 I really enjoyed researching a bit and whipping up this piece! a special thanks to @babbushka​ for being the resident Studio 54 expert!  Mauri isn’t as ‘soft’ here as he is when I write him usually, but I honestly loved exploring this sort of ‘wild side’.

warnings: smut. porn with some plot. masquerade. I think Studio 54 is a warning of its own. dancing. grinding. p in v. unprotected sex. fluff at the end.

(possible) tw’s: some alcohol consumption. cigarette smoking (canon for character). (!!) implied infidelity/extramarital sex. public sex. (!!)

word count: 2.46k

terms to know

Bellissima means ‘beautiful’ in Italian (an affectionate nickname). Dio means ‘God’ in Italian (used as an exclamation in this piece). Cristo means ‘Christ’ in Italian (used as an exclamation in this piece). Cazzo means ‘fuck’ in Italian (used as an exclamation in this piece).

maurizio’s taglist peeps! @icarusinthesea @eagerforhoney my general taglist peeps! @safarigirlsp @babbushka @mrs-zimmerman @dirtytissuebox @thepalaceofmelanie​ (if you’d like to be added to or removed from any of my taglists, the link to the google form is HERE or on the top of my masterlist)​

Muffled tunes bump from the concrete walls as you and your small group of friends walk past the blocks-long line. You flash your Gucci company ID to the bouncer, who lets you in immediately, getting a few envious mutters and groans from the line-goers.

Studio 54 is the place to be these days and luckily for you, working at the House of Gucci’s New York branch gets you premiere access, since the CEO is a huge investor in the club. 

Tonight’s a masquerade theme, so all patrons are wearing a variety of different masks, from whole-face masks to only eye masks. But, each was very much their own, a sea of colors and sequins and feathers as their wearers stride about.

You’re clad in a risqué disco getup, wearing a metallic silver tube top and matching skirt with some small heels that you’re sure you’ll tire of rather quickly. But Studio 54, from what you’ve heard, is all about the looks, the glitz and the glamour. Your eye mask is made to match tonight’s look as well as resemble cat-eye glasses, black with small silver wings coming off the pointed edges. 

Your winter coat is checked and then you head up to the dance floor, music getting louder and louder as you ascend the staircase. Your breasts bounce a bit with each step, nipples peering out from beneath the silver fabric. Studio 54 is known for its ‘anything goes’ rule, and you fully intend on taking advantage of that freedom tonight. 

It’s jam-packed, just as you’d expected it to be, sweaty bodies dancing and grinding together in a large group on the floor. The stale air is hazy with cigarette smoke, smells of sex and drugs linger all throughout the thick, humid air. Your senses are overwhelmed while at the same time aroused by the sights and smells of Studio 54.

While your friends head over to the bar to grab drinks, you head right onto the dance floor, beginning your night of wild, passionate fun. A few guys come and grind with you for a few minutes or so, but they leave shortly after. Your eyes peer through the holes in your mask, lingering over the talent standing at the sides of the floor, scouting and waiting to devour their scantily-clad prey.

Your gaze pauses on a man leaning against one of the pillars, lighting up a cigarette. He looks in stark contrast to all other club-goers who sport the metallic, the feathers, the sequins, the avant-garde. He’s so abnormally normal with his crisp, classy 007-type tuxedo. His chestnut brown hair drapes down to just below the brilliant white collar of his button-up, neatly moussed and styled. He’s disguised by a bright white half-face mask, making him appear almost ghoulish when paired with his handsomely pale skin.

His eyes suddenly dart over to meet yours and your cheeks heat up as you look away, biting your lip softly. He smirks, taking a drag off his cigarette before heading over to the bar. He’s going to need some courage juice in him before he approaches you.

The night wears on and you start to get a bit discouraged. You’re still having fun, of course, you just wish that it was going more according to your fantasy and imagination. Perhaps you should head to another club, see if you fare better there. 

Deciding in favor of checking out other hotspots in the area, you begin to make your way off to the side back towards the door. Suddenly, a set of large, strong hands slide onto your waist and pulls you back, forcing you to collide with a large body. The scent of expensive cigarettes enveloping you as he steps up behind you and goosebumps instantaneously erupt down your arms as the tall man leans down, lips now at your ear.

“Ciao, bellissima.” His voice is slightly husky and thick with Italian origin, alcoholic breath hot on your skin.  “The party’s out here on the floor, not down at coat check.”

You chuckle. “It seems that no one wants to party with me for more than five minutes tonight. I was gonna try my luck at another club.”

He pulls you back a bit further against him.

“Well then, it’s lucky I caught you. I’d be just kicking myself if I missed the chance to dance with a beauty like you.”

“I think you overestimate my talents, sir.” You’re wondering if this is a dream, something to cope with the real-life disappointment of the night.

The man chuckles, running his nose along the side of your neck and inhaling your sweet perfume. “And I think you underestimate your talents, miss.”

A slower, more sensual song begins to play through the speakers and you reach up to wrap your hand around the back of your unknown dance partner’s neck, keeping him down near your head.

“Let’s find out who’s right, then, shall we?”

His grin is obvious, even though you can’t see him. “Yes, let’s.”

You start by leaning back against him, simply feeling out the slow and steady rhythm of the beat. You’ve never felt so relaxed, so carefree before and it feels really, really nice. He drops his hands from your hips, but sways along with you, trying to keep his lips away from your up-done hair. 

He ends up having a few of your hairs catch on his plush lips a few minutes later, causing him to have to try spitting them out subtly and quietly. 

It doesn’t work. 

You laugh softly and he blushes, chuckling awkwardly along with you. “Sorry about that. You must’ve caught some of my flyaways.”

“Yes, it seems that way. I feel guilty for ruining the mood, though.” His nose nudges at your temple, hands coming back up to hold your hips as he senses your motions grow a bit quicker.

“Don’t. I’m sure we can manage to bring it back to what we had before. In fact, I think we can make it even better.”

Your hips begin to circle back against him at a more aggressive rate of speed, moving the fabric of his dress slacks all over his hardening crotch. His breath is shaky as it comes out through his nose, fingers digging a bit tighter into the flesh of your hips.

The humid air practically suffocates the two of you as the other patrons dance all around, causing a slick sheen to quickly cover your skin, the roots of your hair soaking through steadily. Your fingers gently massage his scalp as his lips move and suck red marks into your tender skin that’ll surely turn purple by the end of the night.

Soon, he begins experimentally rolling his pelvis in time with your motions, grunting against your neck at the sensations this new move is creating. He’s almost fully hard beneath his suit slacks by now, already planning out how he’s gonna get with you tonight. Patrizia doesn’t have to know about this.

“So, are you ever gonna let me see you, mystery man?” You ask, chuckling.

He blushes beneath the mask. He’s extremely hesitant to let you see him, an instinct born of being in the spotlight since youth. But then he remembers, he’s in America and he has a mask on. 

His hands pull away from you and a small kiss placed on your exposed shoulder. “Look upon me, then, bellissima.”

Suddenly gripped with nerves, you turn around slowly and look up. He’s handsome; the epitome of men, warm brown hair and endearing ocean blue eyes. His gazes roam your masked appearance in a similar manner, relieved that you don’t seem to recognize him. A sudden feeling of familiarity washes over you as your eyes meet once more.

“Your eyes, your gaze...they’re familiar to me. Is there a chance we’ve crossed paths before?”

His nostrils flare in fear, eyes going wide for a moment. A soft, cautious breath leaves his lips and he shakes his head quickly. “No, it’s not likely. I’ve been told I have one of those faces, you know?”

“Yeah, yeah, I know what you mean. That’s probably it.” You step back up to him, hands smoothing over his broad chest. “Now, where were we?”

“Hmm, I think it was...” Maurizio smirks, leaning down so that his lips hover just above yours. “Right about here, if I recall correctly.”

Pressing yourself up on your toes, you connect your lips to his just as the last of his sentence passes through his velvety pink lips. Your arms snake up around the back of his neck, fingers toying with the rich brown locks. They certainly won’t be so neatly styled when you’re finished with him tonight, that much you’re sure of.

He smiles against your lips, stepping up a bit closer to you, body now pressing right up against yours. The two of you remain that way until he pulls away softly, breathing slightly heavy as his eyes look over your face.

“Can I take you upstairs? To the uh, balcony, perhaps?”

Oh, you’ve heard plenty of things about the balcony and the heat has already begun to pool in your loins. You nod, a small but devious grin stretching across your face.

“Absolutely. Lead the way, handsome.”

The two of you make your way towards the staircase, dodging and weaving through the crowds of dancing drag queens, salacious skaters, carefree celebrities and various other perky patrons.

“Do I get to learn your name before we reach the balcony?”

His breath hitches. “Mauri, you can call me Mauri.”

Your brows furrow slightly. You’ve never heard a name like that before, but maybe it’s some kind of nickname. 

“Mauri, got it. I’m Y/N.”

Y/N. A beautiful name, fit for a beautiful woman.

He smiles and nods, guiding you up to the balcony. When you arrive, there are already plenty of people inhabiting the space, all in various stages of either sex, undress or getting high. 

This is definitely where a majority of the sex smell downstairs is originating from. 

Mauri keeps his head tilted downwards and you swear you can see a bit of a blush on his cheeks as he takes you over to a relatively secluded corner. He undoes his belt quickly, sloppily kissing you as he does so.

You gasp sharply into his mouth when he suddenly scoops you up and slams you against the wall, lips working your neck while his hands free his hardened arousal from where it’s trapped beneath the restrictive suit fabric.

Your skirt is promptly pushed up to rest on your hips, your panties are pushed to the side, and Mauri’s cock is sheathing itself inside you before you can even process it.

“Ohhh christ.”

His jaw slacks against your neck, eyes squeezing shut while his hot breath spreads over your taut skin. Goosebumps erupt where the invisible warmth falls. “Dio.”

He stays still for a moment, then buries his face into the crook of your neck before his hips begin to move. There’s nothing slow or intimate about what the two of you are doing, it’s carnal. It’s sloppy and rough, the sweat mingling especially where your skin is pressed against his. 

The smell of sex that permeates around you only makes the whole experience that much more arousing. Your eyes looking around the room to see other couples getting off, shuddering and whining as you make eye contact with a young woman currently getting fucked on the ground. Your insides clench around him instinctively, earning you a small grunt while your hand takes hold of his silky brown locks.

“You’re tight, cristo, so hot and slick for my cock.”

Your head falls back against the wall with an audible clunk sound and you cringe in acute pain for a quick moment, but the pure lust and hunger flowing through you provides the adrenaline needed to ward off the pain. It’ll surely be sore come dawn, but really, you couldn’t care less at the moment.

“So big, Mauri, fucking me so good.”

Mauri fucks you harder, then, crooked teeth scraping against the taut flesh of your neck, panting softly. You reach down into the humid space between your bodies until your fingertips find the engorged bud nestled neath folds of delicate flesh.

A wet sound soon emerges from between your legs as your fingers swipe back and forth over your clit quickly, bringing yourself right up to the edge within only a minute or two. 

He grunts into your neck, pace rapidly devolving into one that’s erratic and desperate, shaft pulsing under the tight grip of your insides. His breathing grows quick and shallow, hands pushing at your spread legs to push them further into a spread eagle position. 

“Where do you want it?”

You moan along with his motions, pitch heightening slightly with each of his powerful thrusts. “Fuck, I--”

Suddenly, you’re thrown over the edge, a powerful orgasm hitting you like a truck. An avalanche of pleasure rolls over your body, nerves buzzing with warm feelings of release. Your hand wraps around the back of his head, lips near his ear to catch the chorus of whimpers, whines and little mewls that leave your lips.

“M-Mauri.”

His brows crease, knitting in the center of his forehead as he fucks you through it, finding it a nearly impossible feat to stave off his own climax, but he manages.

“Cazzo, I--wheredoyouwantit?” He’s barely holding on, now.

“Outside, a-anywhere.”

Balls pulling up, Mauri moans and pulls out quickly, just as the first thick rope of creamy release spatters onto your fleshy inner thighs. A long, shaky groan leaves his lips before he crashes them onto yours to muffle the rest of his sounds.

You move with him, lips liquid with his, fluid motions so effortless that you’d think the union was one entity. He pulls away from your lips slowly, then out of your tingling cunt, a smile on his face the whole way along.

“I apologize for the mess, bellissima.” He pulls out a handkerchief and wipes the creamy liquid from your thighs before helping pull your skirt back down. “There we go.”

You offer him a small smile, biting your lip as the unsureness of what to do next takes over. After a moment, you clear your throat, chuckling softly.

“I’m not really sure what to do next, if I’m completely honest.”

“Me neither.” His cheeks, of what you can see of them behind the mask, turn a shade of pink. “How about I buy you a drink at the bar? That seems like a good place to start.”

Your lips instantly curve upwards into a smile and you offer him a soft nod.

“A drink would be great.”

[dootdootwriting]

AHHH CONGRATS ON 600!!! I hope you're doing well heehoo and if its okay can i ask for the whole alphabet with scaramouche?:3 (also pls don't overwork yourself jdjajdkdlfmmeis)

600+ event!!

this is my first time writing for scara so i hope i did okay aha,, under the cut for length!

fluff alphabet with scaramouche, gn reader, warning for inazuma quest/scaramouche backstory spoilers!!

why is his name so long

A-Activities (what do they like to do with their s/o? How do they spend their free time with them?)

- scaramouche isn't super knowledgeable about relationships, so he'll just sort of tentatively ask what you want to do and go along with it (though he might act like it's a stupid idea the whole time). really he doesn't care what he spends his free time on as long as you're a part of it.

B-Beauty (what do they admire about their s/o? what do they think is beautiful about them?)

- well first of all, he admires the courage you've got to have to be with him in the first place. other than that, he also loves your smile (but you won't hear him tell you that out loud, unless you're not really asleep when he thinks you are)

C-Comfort (how would they help their s/o when they feel down/have a panic attack etc.?)

- another thing he's alien to. at first just starts telling you to calm down and is pretty harsh about it. when he realizes this isn't working, he'll reluctantly take you into his arms and start awkwardly patting your head. it's funny how awkward it is and you end up laughing at him about it, which makes him annoyed, but at least now you feel better.

D-Dreams (how do they picture the future with their s/o?)

- scaramouche... either wants you to be by his side as he conquers everything and shows the world just how strong he is, or he wants to do it alone. though it would be much better if you were with him and it makes him sad to think about you not being there in the end.

E-Equal (are they the dominant one in the relationship or rather passive?)

- surprisingly passive, actually. he doesn't really know what he's doing so he lets you make most of the decisions about dates and spending time together. other than that though, he likes to drag you around to do whatever he wants.

F-Fun (what do they do for fun with their s/o? what’s their idea of a fun day out?)

- what's fun? on a day off, scaramouche will wander around and ponder his own existence. you'll have to take him to a market or a park or something so he can actually experience things first - once you do, you'll find he enjoys being alone with you somewhere quiet, where he doesn't have to listen to other people.

G-Gratitude (how grateful are they in general? Are they aware of what their s/o is doing for them?)

- doesn't show it, but is definitely grateful, though he also doesn't know just how much of a hassle he can be. scaramouche just sort of assumed love was supposed to be unconditional... but he can tell when he's crossed a line, and he's grateful for you sticking by him despite everything.

H-Honesty (do they have secrets they hide from their s/o? Or do they share everything?)

- obviously the one big secret is how he came into being in the first place, but once he trusts you enough to tell you about his being a puppet and a test, he's in all the way. he hides little things from you before that but once he's told you, you're in it with him forever whether you like it or not, and that means he doesn't keep anything else from you.

I-Inspiration (did their s/o change them somehow, or the other way around? Like trying out new things or helped them overcome personal problems?)

- he's a lot more tolerable around you! you've been approached by fatui officers asking you "how do you do it?" and saying things like "thank you so much i totally thought i was gonna be yelled at today!" somehow you cool off his temper a bit.

J-Jealousy (do they get jealous easily? How do they deal with it?)

- JEALOUS JEALOUS JEALOUS man. he gets jealous so so easily and WILL confront you about it. after a while and once he knows he can trust you he gets jealous less frequently, because he knows you're with him for the long run.

K-Kisses (are they a good kisser? What was the first kiss like?).

- bad kisser at first because he's probably never been in love before. he gets the hang of it quickly though! your first kiss was because he had to shut you up and he couldn't figure out another way how so he just kissed you. you yelled at him after that.

L-Love confession (how would they confess to their s/o?)

- scaramouche confesses on purpose but in a really weird way. he plans it and everything - he takes you out to see the sunset and brings food (almost like a picnic) but then once he gets to the actual confession it's just like "how dare you do this to me? i stay awake at night thinking of you and somehow you're the most tolerable person i've ever met. childe had the audacity to call it love and to laugh at me so he got what he deserved. if you don't feel the same way i'll punch you too." but he doesn't end up having to punch you, which you're both very glad about.

M-Mornings (what’s it like waking up with them? do they sleep late or wake up before the sun rises?)

- he didn't have a reason to sleep in late until he started sleeping next to you. now he's stuck in his ridiculous sleep schedule so he always wakes up before you. but hey! bonus! now he gets to look at you while you sleep, which for some reason makes him extremely flustered (which is really cute to wake up to).

N-Nicknames (what do they call their s/o?)

- just calls you your name 🧍

O-On cloud nine (what are they like when they are in love? Is it obvious for others? How do they express their feelings?)

- when he discovered he was in love he got angry at you. then he realized it wasn't your fault, and, actually, this wasn't such a bad thing. man were you confused though. for a solid week he just yelled at you for no reason. childe guessed correctly when he realized scaramouche's more-unusual-than-usual behavior, but he had the decency to hold his tongue around you.

P-PDA (how are they with PDA? is it fun to them or are they more reserved with their affection?)

- hates pda. will hold your hand and that's it if you try to kiss him in public his face will scrunch up and his ears will pull back instinctively. then he'll avoid you for the rest of the day.

Q-Quirk (some random thing they do when they’re with you for no reason in particular)

- gently taps you at random moments, almost as if he's trying to remind himself that you're here with him.

R-Romance (how romantic are they? What would they do to make their s/o happy? Cliché or rather creative?)

- scaramouche tries to be romantic? he's doing his best. he tries all the gooey stuff to make you happy like buying you chocolate and giving you stuffed animals but in reality he has little to no tolerance for this kind of thing and you have to reassure him you love him, not the classic romantic things he forces himself to do. after that he stops, which is a huge relief.

S-Support (are they helping their s/o achieve their goals do they believe in them?)

- he's more focused on his own goals and climbing the fatui ladder, but he's also very invested in anything you're attempting to do. wholeheartedly believes in you, whether he outwardly expresses it or not.

T-Thrill (do they need to try out new things to spice out your relationship or do they prefer certain routine?)

- scaramouche likes the security of his routine and the place your relationship is at. he gets embarrassed at pretty much any new milestone and needs some time to get to them, and he gets cranky when things change suddenly, so uh. no, he likes it better the way it is with little to no changes.

U-Understanding (how good do they know their partner? Are they empathetic?)

- not very empathetic, but is very understanding. scaramouche lacks the ability to feel how you're feeling (is it because he isn't quite human?), but he does understand how you work and function, and the best ways to treat you depending on your mood.

V-Value (how important is the relationship to them? What is its worth in comparison to other things in their life?).

- since you're so important to him, you're about number two on his list of priorities, maybe almost tied with his work in the fatui. he can't stand people, but you've wormed your way into his heart, so he's not letting you go anytime soon.

W-Wild card (a random fluff headcanon?)

- any time you give him affection he's a little startled at first, but he comes to love it and eventually will ask you for hugs.

X-XOXO (Are they very affectionate? Do they love to kiss and cuddle?)

- yes but ONLY behind closed doors. he's afraid if he so much as looks at you lovingly his underlings will laugh at him, and he definitely can't have that. when you two are alone, however, he absolutely cannot get enough of your touch.

Y- Yearning (how will they cope when they are missing their partner?)

- angry angry angry and makes it everyone's problem. when you get back from your trip the mood is dark and agents are running up to you like you're their savior "OH GOD YOU'RE BACK THANK EVERYTHING PLEASE SAVE US."

Z-Zeal (are they willing to go to great lengths for the relationship? If so, what kind?)

- he would literally kill for you (please tell him not to)

[anika-ann]

Walk Me Home Tonight (S.R.)

Type: one-shot, songfic

Pairing: Steve Rogers x reader     Word count: 4700

Summary: Sometimes it’s hard to be in a celebratory mood when all you can think of is that life sucks and that being left on your own to drown your sorrows is for the best.

Sometimes people who care about you know better than yourself and come crashing your party of one.

Sometimes, despite the popular belief, you do realize how lucky you are having been introduced to Steve Rogers.

Warnings: mention of blood and violence and death, mention of alcohol, angst, fluff and language

A/N: P!nk’s Walk Me Home just does something to me, alright? Music video included - it’s soooo beautiful.

*✧･*✧･*✧･*✧･*✧･*✧･*✧･

You stared at the amber liquid, lazily making it roll in the glass with idle motions of your wrist. It reflected the rather soft lights of the bar, an exquisite game of colour you found fascinating enough to dull your mind and muffle the noise of the party.

It wasn’t that you were a party pooper, not usually anyway; just… the timing wasn’t ideal.

Of course, Sharon could hardly move her birthday to make it more convenient for you, less so a party her colleagues had decided to throw for her. You knew Agent Carter for quite some time now; she had joined SHIELD about the same time as you, going through the same tough training. Except unlike you – and initially without your knowledge – she had an image to live up to.

You might even call her a friend, your chest bursting in pride for her when her hard work had finally borne some fruit and she had been promoted to an assistant director of the intelligence agency. Among other things, it earned her a lot of new potential friends.

You were hardly acting like one tonight, much to your own annoyance. But for some reason, you found it difficult to leave your momentary emotional baggage at the doorstep, slipping it off as easily as your coat. You had wished her all the best, conversed for a tiny bit and then happily made space for others, for the forming line of guests waiting to celebrate with her as well.

Then you retreated to your spot at the bar, possibly annoying the bartender, who would have been more delighted seeing some heavier drinker occupying your seat, tipping generously, instead of having you nursing each glass of alcohol for about two hours.

You weren’t even sure why you were still here; you had given up on the attempt on small talk with anyone, apparently unwittingly chasing away any potential company. And here you thought misery did love company – perhaps you were wrong, at least when it came to birthday parties of gorgeous women loved by everyone. You might as well pack up your bottom and sulk at home.

You were stubbornly shushing the voice in the back of your skull, whispering about knowing precisely why you remained in your seat; about feeling less alone here, despite being a literal loner in a crowd.

You downed the rest of the bitter scotch, basking in the burn which it left on its way down your throat, your eyelids slipping shut in content, the noise in your brain falling silent completely for few blissful moments.

“Party of one?” a male voice gently asked, the tinniest note of teasing in it and while your heart skipped a startled beat at being addressed, you felt the burn in your throat slip lower, warming your chest and causing the corners of your mouth turn up just a fraction.

 There's something in the way you roll your eyes Takes me back to a better time When I saw everything is good But now you're the only thing that's good

 “Felt like crashing it?” you hummed in response, side-eyeing the intruder and found a pair of cerulean eyes staring back. He blindly waved off the eager bartender who was about to offer him a drink.

Ah, poor guy. No tips for him tonight.

“Well, I didn’t get an invitation. Looks like crashing was my only option.”

You sighed tiredly despite Steve’s kind teasing. Tonight was just… so exhausting. Tonight. Today. This week. Gah, this whole month. This fucking year--- okay, maybe you were exaggerating, because you were simply crossing the line, moving from relaxed buzzed drunk to a miserable one.

Battling with yourself, arguing whether you should send him to hell – nicely, because Steve was nothing but kind, he was always so kind, goddammit, gentle humour spiced with the ability to become an utter troll, still benign though, that was why you usually enjoyed his company so much after all-… – or call it a night.

Or should you order another drink? Was there a point? You might cross the line to a clingy drunk eventually and you weren’t certain that was a good idea.

It was probably about as good of an idea as coming to a party despite feeling like shit on an emotional roller-coaster, dangerously inclining towards a very bad mood to put it mildly.

You tilted your head to side as you looked at Steve properly, tight blue shirt flattering his supersoldier frame, black pants with desperately needed leather belt considering his thin waist, his blonde hair a mess, gaze fixed on you, observing. Always observing to read people, to anticipate behaviour, evaluate the threat; sometimes simply to be considerate, to… to be compassionate.

Dammit, Steve.

“Must have got lost in the mail then,” you said eventually, offering a weak smile. “Sorry.”

“Nah, it’s alright,” he shrugged it off, the curve of his lips more distinct than yours. As if he was offering to cheer you up. Sweet, but possibly vain effort tonight. Sometimes, things simply piled up and there was no escape. Such was the fate of a government agent. And human, for that matter. “Doesn’t look like much fun and I think it’s about to end anyway.”

“I guess…”

 Tryna stand up on my own two feet This conversation ain't comin' easily And darling, I know it's getting late So what do you say we leave this place?

 This time, Steve actually made an eye contact with the bartender, who eagerly rushed to him at instant. His excited expression fell when he noticed you were pulling out your wallet to close your tab. You didn’t have the strength to shoot him an apologetic smile.

Steve’s eyes were on you the whole time, you could feel them, and you wondered why. Until he spoke again, as soon as the other man left.

“Come on. I’ll walk you home,” he offered gentlemanly, coaxing you into saying yes, possibly unaware of the effect which such tone had on people.

Or perhaps he knew, using exactly that when he was trying to talk someone down, to calm them, gain their trust. The joke was on him, because it was a vain effort; you trusted him fully already. Surely, he knew that.

Right?

Trust was the solid base the team of Avengers needed and since you somehow found yourself with them, it involved you too. The team stood and fell on trust and mutual respect. But it meant so much more – they were friends. They cared about each other, about their well-being.

Right now, Steve was being a good friend and a good teammate.

And you were being exactly that too when you turned his kind proposition down.

“No, it’s fine. There are still some people who are actually able to speak coherently with you. Go enjoy yourself. I’ll be okay.”

“It’s three in the morning,” he pointed out, as if admonishing you for not noticing. Your eyebrow rose deliberately.

“…and?”

“And I’d feel better if you weren’t walking the streets alone,” he replied easily, ignoring the hint of snark in your comeback as you made your way to the coat-stand.

Still walking on the line of miserable and pleasantly buzzed, you couldn’t find it in yourself to be mean to him for such patronizing approach. He had been raised this way and despite his open mind and admirable respect to women, he slipped sometimes.

“Steve, I’m a SHIELD agent basically turned Avenger. I can take care of my-“

“But you don’t have to. And-” He gestured subtly back towards the bar and a metaphorical lightbulb flickered above your head.

Not patronizing then, god forbid chauvinist; Peggy Carter would rise from the death to beat him with his own shield, with Natasha’s enthusiastic help, if he was showing any sign of aforementioned qualities and he was well-aware of that.

Just mother-henning then, the way Steve excelled at.

It brought the first honest smile of the night to your lips. You made sure to face him so he could see how wholesome his company was for you.

“I’m not too drunk, Steve. I had like two glasses of scotch,” you assured him, gently brushing his forearm before reaching for your coat and scarf. “And two beers.”

“I know,” he stated, stealing your coat only to hold it out for you to slip into it.

God, the woman who would once win his heart was about to be one lucky bitch.

Jim has never done this for me, flashed through your mind and you instantly shushed the whining voice in your head. Instead, you went over what he just said, blinking in surprise.

Huh? He… knew?

“I… might have kept an eye on you,” he admitted tentatively, the tips of his fingers brushing your shoulder before retreating and letting you to cocoon in the fabric.

“Why?”

Why would he keep an eye on you? Sure, teammates and friends and all that, but for some reason, you doubted he kept an eye on Tony, the only other Avenger (beside Steve, not Steve and you, you don’t count, a voice hissed in your mind and you winced) who attended the party, not being on any mission at the moment.

Why did Steve feel like you needed a chaperone?

No, that was too harsh of a word for him, you were certain his intentions were everything but malicious, but… why?

 Walk me home in the dead of night I can't be alone with all that's on my mind, mhm So say you'll stay with me tonight 'Cause there is so much wrong going on outside

 The genuine wonder must have been audible in your voice, much like your shock must have been clear in your expression, because Steve seemed sheepish all of sudden, scratching the back of his neck awkwardly.

“Well, I mean, I know that you probably wouldn’t-“ he started, only to grimace. “It’s not that I think you’re an alcoholic! It’s just that... you--- and it’s only been-…“

-four days since you got dumped, you finished the unspoken sentence and tried your best to ignore the cold seeping into your bones at the reminder.

One of the reasons why you had been in a sour mood and deciding to drink alone. Your amazing asshole of a boyfriend had dumped you, metaphorically kicking you while you had already been down. Lovely.

“-I was worried. But you didn’t look like you were interested in having company, I didn’t want to be a bother and-“

You pulled Steve out of his misery by placing a hand over his forearm, which stopped the words spilling uncontrollably from his mouth.

He was actually being very sweet and thoughtful. It kinda made you feel bad, because… you weren’t looking for dragging someone down with you. As it was, he had his own reasons to not be happy about partying tonight, but feeling like he had to keep an eye on you probably didn’t help to lift his spirits.

“-and you had to spend some time with the woman of the hour,” you finished instead of him slowly, hoping you sounded at least half as thoughtful as he did and that you didn’t appear to be the greatest bitch, stealing attention from Sharon. “That’s understandable, Steve. It is her birthday party and I’m the one being antisocial.”

You bit down your lip, lowering your gaze, because the infamous worried wrinkle appeared on Steve’s forehead and you just knew he was about to protest and you… honestly felt bad about your behaviour and the welcoming colour of his eyes was not helping to make you feel any better, because of course he probably thought it was perfectly normal to look out for you instead of allowing himself to enjoy the night and- ugh.

“You… you shouldn’t have to look out for me. Your attention could have been fully on the birthday girl.”

Naturally, Steve Rogers basically shrugged it off. Covering your hand on him with his large palm, he slouched to look into your eyes once more. Insistent bastard, no doubt aware of your inability to say no to his amiable face.

“That’s what friends are for. Now, can I walk you home?”

You shook your head with a sad smile, rising your gaze towards the ceiling, hoping it came out as an exasperation at his stubbornness and not as it truly was – you in fact attempting to keep your tears at bay, because, miserable drunk, dumped four days ago apart from other things and there he was, asshole perfect, Steve fucking Rogers, gentleman and friend extraordinaire, caring for your well-being more than Jim ever had.

A twinkle appeared in his eye when he recognized he won and you chuckled, sealing his victory out loud.

“Yes, Steve. You can walk me home. It’s conveniently located on the way to yours.”

He smirked when he shrugged on his own coat. “Happy coincidences…”

 There's something in the way I wanna cry That makes me think we'll make it out alive So come on and show me how we're good I think that we could do some good, mhm

 Once you left the bar, silence fell on you, feeling heavy as did the cold November air.

Heavy and awkward. While you could tell with certainty you were barely affected by the alcohol you had drunk, your steps were wobbly, knees shaky as if you were a baby horse trying to stand up for the first time.

Steve walked by your side, majestic in his thigh-length coat, hands snugged in its pockets only halfway as if he was waiting for you needing his support. It irritated you as much as it warmed your heart.

On top of everything, you would swear every lone person you met stared at you, staring you up and down until they seemed to register Steve’s imposing frame and quickly went back to their business. It annoyed you to no end; it was just proving Steve’s point that you shouldn’t walk the streets alone at such hour, government agent or not.

“I would have been fine, you know,” you hummed, cautiously breaking the relative quiet.

It was never truly quiet in New York City, only rush hours alternating with calmer ones. You didn’t mind it; you enjoyed the city. Sometimes quiet meant that thoughts won the opportunity to become too loud; tonight, for some reason, despite the silence, Steve prevented that ever since he joined you.

It dawned to you then, how ungrateful you sounded and you quickly added “But thanks.” –  a whisper full of honesty.

“Uh-huh.”

Perhaps the silence weighted so much because your mood wasn’t the only cause of it.

Steve was showing you that he worried; surely, you could as well? Because you did, worry about him that was.

“…are you? Okay?”

“Why wouldn’t I be?” he asked distractedly, but you could hear the frown on his face, the image of his nose scrunched in confusion painted in front of your eyes even without looking at him.

“Just… today-” you nudged him once more and vaguely eyed your watch only to be reminded that ‘today’ was a confusing term. “Or, more like, yesterday…”

A sharp inhale was drawn at your side and you could sense as he started closing off, putting up his walls so no one would catch a scent of his weakness. You hated when he tried to do that. You would have thought you were past that. You liked to consider you two friends at least.

Tonight was simply not your night. Of either of you, apparently.

“What about it-?“

You sighed, fighting the urge to roll your eyes. Were you truly such a crappy company, an insensitive friend or was there something sorrowful and cranky in the air, preventing your communication channels from tuning to the same frequency?

You were aware what the day meant for him – another painful reminder of what he had lost with crashing the plane in the forties only to wake up in a new millennium.

Though this particular loss – of his mother – haunted him even back in what some people called his days. It was an utter non-sense. Steve belonged there as much as he belonged here. He was brave enough to try and stubborn enough to succeed in fitting in.

“Nothing, I guess,” you sighed once more, this time rolling your eyes. “…Mr. Nothing Can Touch Me.”

The wry nickname hung in the air for a while, the faint noise of the night city washing over your pair. When Steve broke it again, there was a barely audible crack in his voice.

“I… I’m okay. I think. I… should be. It’s been so long. Decades,” he mused, turning his gaze to the sky. His eyes glistened and if you didn’t know him, hadn’t witnessed his walls lowering before, you would have thought it was just the streetlights reflecting.

You knew better. Tentatively, your fingers brushed his, not remembering when his hands had left his pockets. You were grateful for it now, especially when he didn’t retrieve from your touch instantly.

“Not for you,” you pointed out quietly, rewarded by the softest squeeze of his warm hand.

The heaviness and tension you had felt before resolved with the gesture. Something finally fell into place and you were almost you again and he was almost him.

Two figures, carrying their griefcases, but functioning and… harmonizing once more.

“How did you know?”

“That’s what friends are for, Steve,” you echoed his earlier words, sending a tiny smile his way, meeting his glassy gaze. “They remember important dates, good or bad.”

“No one else did. Not that I can actually hold it against Buck, of course... but no one… you…” his voice trailed off as he lost his train of thought – or perhaps he had never truly directed it to the station in the first place.

Your shoulders moved a fraction, a hint of a shrug-off. His hand wrapped around yours tighter in silent appreciation, not showing any sign of intending to let go.

And you were alright with that. More than alright.

Walk me home in the dead of night I can't be alone with all that's on my mind, mhm So say you'll stay with me tonight 'Cause there is so much wrong going on outside

Ooh-ooh, ooh-ooh Ooh-ooh, ooh-ooh

His presence was always immense, overwhelming even; yet so comfortable you didn’t have the slightest problem with opening your heart to him, offering it to him even when it was bleeding. And now, finally tuned together, it was no different.

You bared your heart to him, even if it hurt.

“She didn’t make it,” you whispered, voice pained in the dead of the night and he didn’t react, letting you to gather strength to elaborate. You cleared your throat as the lump grew in it.  “Kayla, one of the kids… from last week’s mission. I found out yesterday… she-she didn’t make it, she had too many injuries. Word is that perhaps it was even a blessing. A relief.”

“I’m so sorry,” Steve repented, his grip growing stronger just a fraction, enough to make your chest and eyes burn.

“Yeah, so am I.”

Whatever he heard in your voice, it caused his fingers twitch in your hand, his footsteps slowing down. “You know that wasn’t your fault, right?”

“Wasn’t it? If I was faster, if I-“

Steve stopped in his tracks completely, pulling at your hand to make you do the same and face him.

You closed your eyes when his blue ones met them, unable to stand the urgency in them. His free hand curled around your shoulder, caressing in attempt at comfort.

“Hey, hey, don’t do that to yourself.” Hypocrite, you threw back at him in your mind, stubbornly keeping your eyelids shut, simply knowing that if you saw the sincerity in his gaze in addition to the fervour he spoke with, you might actually believe him. “You did your best. I know that, Nat and Buck know, everyone does. A monster you helped to put behind bars hurt the kids. Not you. You saved so many lives.”

You shook your head with a sigh, staring straight ahead as you turned on your heels and continued your path. Steve, never letting go of your hand, followed reluctantly.

“Sometimes I think he might have been right, you know?”

Peripherally, you saw him frown again and you cursed yourself for drinking – it untangled your tongue and his stupid face made your spill your guts to him, vomit emotion. You weren’t too secretive about your feelings most of the time, but damn, you hated how alcohol pushed your boundaries of sharing them.

“… Jim. He said that maybe I should give it up. That I’m just running alongside you, heroes, pretending to be one of you, but in the end, I’m not even close to being as good-“

Steve’s feet took roots in the ground, his steely grip forcing you to stop – as long as you wanted to keep your hand attached, which yeah, you kinda did.

“I feel like taking a detour now,” he muttered darkly and for a short moment, confusion was everything you felt, blissfully overtaking the anger, the sorrow, the helplessness and the feeling of utter uselessness.

“Huh?”

“Where does Jim live?” Steve spitted out the name venomously and you couldn’t help the wave of affection washing over you. Affection towards this treasure of a man who apparently wanted to punch another human being because it offended his friend. “He has no business saying something like that. Especially if his bullshit actually affects you-”

“Steve, he wasn’t wrong, I’m just-“ you sputtered, caught off guard when you registered the fire in his glare.

“We all make mistakes. But that’s beside the point, because you didn’t even make any that day. I read the report, and I know you, you put everything you got and more into the rescue mission. How can he-“ he hissed, literally taking a calming breath as both of his hands balled into fist.

Well, one of them only nearly, since it was still holding yours. It actually stung a bit, the bones in your hand close to grinding against each other.

“-I haven’t met him many times, but if he said that instead of comforting you after an incredibly draining mission, then I’m glad that that asshole is gone from your life. … though I would still appreciate his address.”

Blinking away the few stray tears that welled up, you forced a smile as Steve’s strict glare found yours. It felt good, seeing his indignation; having someone else exasperated on how Jim had reacted. He should have given you a hug and hold you tight; that was what you would wish for. Instead, he told you to stop complaining and when you accused him of not supporting you, he called you a whiny bitch who should make up her damn mind and broke things off.

You deeply appreciated Steve’s display of chivalry, hell, you half-considered giving away the address just so Jim would hear someone else agreeing with you, but you were honestly just tired. And you had a feeling Steve wouldn’t stay only at words and seeing any more blood, any more aggression would have been too much for you tonight.

Tonight, you… you needed serenity and comfort.

“…thank you. That… that means a lot. But… maybe just walk me home? Please? Could you walk me home, Steve?” you pleaded softly, barely audible, not caring it sounded like weeping of a needy child.

Unbeknownst to you, that was the last thing you resembled in Steve’s eyes. Your imploring gaze, vulnerable and open, it moved something inside him, his anger silenced for the moment, leaving him defenceless, unable to say no. Not that he had an intention to do so. He always had trouble saying no to you.

So he forced his fists to relax, running his thumb over the back of your hand and whispered the only word that made sense.

“Always.”

You settled back to the comfortable silence after that.

 Walk me home in the dead of night 'Cause I can't be alone with all that's on my mind Say you'll stay with me tonight 'Cause there is so much wrong going on

 You reached the Tower hand in hand.

Neither of you released the other. Not during the elevator ride, not when you walked the halls lined with doors leading to each’s private quarters.

You were still holding onto each other when you came to a stop in front of your door; rest assured, Steve Rogers would lead you right to your door even if his was only at the end of the very same corridor.

Standing nearly chest to chest, his eyes bored into yours with seriousness that surprised you.

“For the record, you do a great deal of good,” he reassured you, saying it as if he truly meant it. It tugged at your heart, sweet and bitter. “You’re amazing and you’re the most authentic of all of us. I admire you.”

That claim caused you to chuckle. Now he was laying it on a bit thick, downright exaggerating.

“You admire me? Steve, that’s really nice of you to say, but don’t be ridi-“

Your words died in your throat when his large palm splayed over your cheek, cradling it gently. When the paddle of his thumb swiped over your other cheek, soft smile playing on his lips, his irises bright with a promise, time seemingly stopped along with your heart.

“And you’re a great friend to the whole team, a wonderful person. Do me a favour and finally learn to accept a compliment,” he asked of you in hushed voice, the electric blue and green of his eyes locking you in. “If he didn’t praise you enough for you to get used to it, he was doing something wrong.”

You gulped, a silly association with the word ‘praise’ allowing you to break from the cage of his gaze that had previously had your mind gone blank.

“I’m not a dog to be praised, Steve…”

One corner of his lips – and when did they got so close anyway? – twitched. And then a tender kiss landed on your forehead, just the softest brush of lips against your skin. The gesture, utterly incomprehensible for you, had your eyelids flutter shut.

“I’m very much aware. Believe me, doll, I know. Thank you for letting me walk you home.”

You only nodded at the ridiculous statement – why was he thanking you? – too perplexed at the fact his lips had made contact with your skin. When did you cross the line towards the delusional drunk?

His fingertips caressed your face as he let go, wishing you to have a good night. Too baffled, you were unable to respond until he had already made his way to his door and you suddenly missed the warmth of his presence.

Breaking free from your haze, you acted on impulse, apparently startling him when you called his name out of blue so urgently.

“Steve!”

Whipping his head around to look at you, you felt your heart jump into your throat.

“Uh… are you ready to go to bed or… or maybe… would you like to watch a movie or something?” With me?

I don’t think I’m ready to be alone. Ready to be without you.

Even from the distance, you would swear you saw his lips spread in a slow honey-sweet smile.

“I think I’d like that,” he called out lowly. “Ten minutes? I’ll get the blankets. You pick the movie.”

“See you in ten then.”

You pretended that your heart didn’t flutter, sending a wave of familiar tingle through your chest and to your fingers, as you slipped inside your room with your mouth curled up in a content smile.

 Walk me home in the dead of night I can't be alone with all that's on my mind So say you'll stay with me tonight 'Cause there is so much wrong There is so much wrong There is so much wrong going on outside

*✧･ Bonus *✧･

If Tony found them two and half hour later, closing credits rolling, the pair curled up and cuddling on the couch, you fast asleep in Steve’s arms, and he noticed that the supersoldier was in fact only faking to avoid an interrogation from the Ironman himself, he didn’t mention it. He just whispered to FRIDAY to turn off the TV and turn off the dimmed lights completely.

He hoped Rogers would treat you the way you deserved, unlike the man who now had farts announcing a received e-mail or texts, unable to change it, and a laptop turning on randomly, dead-pale children staring at him from the screen with hollow eyes and in clothes dripping water. Tony would hate to have to hack more tech again just to avenge your broken heart without your knowledge any time soon.

He’d rather suffer watching the two of his friends being disgustingly sweet on each other.

Probably.

*✧･*✧･*✧･*✧･*✧･*✧･*✧･

S.R. masterlist

*✧･*✧･*✧･*✧･*✧･*✧･*✧･

Silent thanks to the person who came up with the word ‘griefcase’ as an alternative to emotional baggage.

Also, I’m pretty sure songfics aren’t supposed to be so long... oops?

Thank you for reading!

[somnianus]

On Chinese and Eastern Dramatic Acting vs Western

Part 1    Part 2

Mostly in ref to the Untamed/Word of Honor, but applies to a lot of East Asian works-

I’ve been getting the sense that people I know from the west (also being Asian-American myself) often interpret Chinese/Japanese/Korean drama and theatre to be too corny/cheesy/over-acted. A quick search on some internet forums confirms this. Maybe it’s because I used to watch a lot of C-dramas when I was a kid (Legend of the Condor Heroes/Return of C Heroes/Journey to the West/The Reincarnated Princess/etc), I personally did not notice that the acting was over the top. 

I don’t really speak for the quality of acting of these actors because I barely follow them in their careers, but I do know that some of them are immature actors or don’t have much formal training (which may cause the cheesiness above). However, Eastern dramatic acting in general does seem like a common complaint, so I decided to look into it - this is all coming from someone who JUST recently got back into watching C-dramas btw, doing my own research so don’t mind me if there’s some incorrect things down here, I am by NO means at all an expert in drama and theater (lol):

^Villains are often depicted with very exaggerated facial expressions (Above, Xue Yang, The Untamed)

Part 1

1. Chinese concept of mo vs western equivalent of “mimesis” or “imitation”

From this, an excellent chapter on Chinese theatrical concepts vs Western concepts.

Mo plays a significant part in traditional Chinese theatre, usually held to be antithetical to the realism of Western theatre because of its emphasis on theatricality. 

Mo means mimesis or imitation, but in a very different sense from the Western concept. One of the first Chinese scholars to use this term, Fu Sinian, used it to compare Western theatre to Chinese theatre:

Presenting a real event and performing an entertaining show are not compatible. The former emphasizes imitation (yige zhong mofang^b); the latter stresses spontaneity and entertainment. The former performance produces a lifelike image; the latter has nothing to produce. The former puts emphasis on the plot; the latter puts emphasis on theatricality. Therefore they are completely contradictory to one another.

This guy actually goes onto critique Chinese theater, saying it should be more like Western realism, so that there will “be no singing, and the acting will imitate people’s real gestures.” However! Other Chinese critics tried to approach Western vs traditional Chinese drama as two DIFFERENT but still valid forms of art. For example, Yu Shangyuan (1927) said western performance is “writing realistically” (xie shi) and chinese performance as “writing suggestively” (xie yi). Western dramas really rely on an accurate/semi-accurate representation of life and realism. Traditional Chinese drama and acting relied on the “symbolic and imaginative.”

Then what is mo? It is the emotional display, the emotional revelation, that is shown on stage. Starting from the Yuan dynasty, the Chinese drama was thought to be a continuation of poetry rather than its own independent stage art.

Poetry is where the intent of the heart goes. Lying in the heart, it is “intent”; when uttered in words, it is “poetry.” When an emotion stirs inside, one expresses it in words; finding this inadequate, one sighs over it; not content with this, one sings it in poetry; still not satisfied, one unconsciously dances with one’s hands and feet. [anonymous, 1975, from Shi Daxu 200 BCE]

Chinese drama with dancing and singing, was the most expressive product of poetry. The importance of mo cannot be stressed enough - it is the measure by which traditional Chinese drama was judged, how well this drama make you feel? Love, pain, loss, guilt, happiness? Plot becomes something that doesn’t matter as much (more on that later).

^Beijing/Peking Opera - highly stylized, emotive, “unrealistic��� performances

To emphasize how central and important this concept is, it’s thought that a good Chinese playwright never fails to “seize a highly dramatic scene to stage an elaborate presentation of an emotional state.”

Love is of source unknown, yet it grows ever deeper. The living may die of it, by its power the dead live again. [Peony Pavilion, Mu dan ting]

This quote really shows how important it was to show these emotions on stage, to inspire the audience to feel deeply. Chinese critics believed that the best part about drama was how efficient it is to display emotion. Playwrights should “depict extreme bitterness, extreme happiness, extreme silliness, and extreme sobriety; imitate these feelings to the utmost (miao mo jin xing^p).”

Such performances are not necessarily accurately mimicking reality, but they are obtained through the “revelation” of a character’s internal emotional world.

2. Mo vs the depiction of reality or theatrical truth

The Chinese concept of aesthetic truth relates a lot to theatrical truth. In a lot of traditional Chinese art, painting, poetry, etc, aesthetic truth is not empirical, and doesn’t have to be accurate to life, or realistic. It’s a “truth that lies beyond mere superficial likeness.”

To the Chinese artist, an accurate resemblance between art and reality is not only superficial but often distorting. Chinese artists hold a dialectical view on the “form” (xing) and the “spirit” or “content” (shen) of an artistic object. According to them, xing  and shen are not always complementary. On the contrary, they often stand in opposition to one another. (referenced in the chapter above)

Traditional Chinese artists would rather represent the object with the wish that their representation matches its spirit, or abstract identity, than its actual form because a “photographic image is a shallow image.” It’s easy to draw a picture of something realistically, but it’s much harder and more satisfying to depict its nature, its feeling, its spirit.

This also naturally affects theater and dramatic performances.

Dramatic writing can be divided into two types: “a painting-like work” or a “transformed work,” in which the latter has higher artistic value because it reaches more towards the essence of dramatic object. Realistic imitations are fine, but they’re not really enough to reveal the mo or true feelings of something.

In addition, traditional Chinese dramatists believe that “all dramas are nothing but allegories. One need not ask about their origins in actual life.” You might be able to see, then, that these older playwrights and critics really fancied the overdramatic depictions of emotions.

a. The Chinese notion of theatrical truth/aesthetic truth vs European

Onto what we, as part of the Western audience, are more used to:

For Italian neoclassical critics, the pleasure of a drama hinges  on how accurate, how realistic, the depiction is. Castelvetro, the leading Italian Neo-Classical critic and creator of the concept of “the three unities,” claims thus:

We cannot imagine a king who did not exist, nor attribute any action to him.

Another Italian critic, Robortellus, said that a creative/imaginative story with no “verisimilitude” (truthfulness, in this context, realism) is less appealing than one that imitates a real-life event:

Thus if a tragic plot contained an action which did not really take place and was not true, but was represented by the poet himself in accordance with verisimiltude, it would perhaps move the souls of the auditors, but certainly less.

So basically, it’s fundamentally the opposite of Chinese theater. Italian dramatic works prized being realistic, being properly adapted from reality and real events. Chinese dramatic works, however, enjoyed the emphasis on heartfelt emotional demonstrations, or mo. Even in critical writings, the word “truth” is used, but it is usually used to modify the word “heart” or “emotion.” It is very concerned with the internal, the truthfulness of heartfelt emotional expression.

Taken these contexts, you can see why the Chinese stage/dramas are wholly “unreal” as Tao-Ching Hsu puts it. Everything, the makeup, the costumes, the props, is expressive and suggestive rather than imitative.

b. Bejing/Peking Opera, jingju

A famous example is the Beijing/Peking Opera, jingju. The makeup and costumes themselves are fantastical representations. The colors and patterns suggest different moods, temperaments, characters, and even changes in emotions. Actors would make distinct movements to depict distinct emotions with varying levels of energy. The stage itself may be sparse, because it is not as important as the expression of emotion and drama. 

The stage is sparse not because of the lack of technology or funding, but because it leaves room for the actor themselves to fully express their internal thinking/feeling/emotions. Characters can cross hundreds of miles in a few steps or may take the whole stage to cross a supposed road. This representation looks “unreal” to a realistic-minded audience, but it is very genuine to a Chinese audience.

Summary (so far)

This crucial understanding of the concept of mo (the emotional revelation), and the way traditional Chinese drama depicts life and stories, informs how their modern works are also portrayed. Coming from a Western dramatic background, where realism and plot are the most important aspects of a work, it can be very confusing, right? Even Chinese scholars began to judge their own dramatic works through a Western lens.

How does this traditional background affect modern Chinese dramas and works? I think it still has a very large effect, even though much of Western ideals about dramatic works have been heavily integrated into modern Chinese dramas.

Part 2: On Theatricality and how it transfers into Chinese Cinema

[mygodyouredivine]

The Hell In Your Eyes - 2

Summary: Loki doesn't meet her until two weeks after his initial imprisonment, but he knows he hates her. He has to hate her. Because the way she talks to him and helps him and saves him meals can't mean anything. She is too soft to deal with Loki, who is hardened with pain, pain, and more pain. And Loki hates soft things. 

Have you ever seen the hell in someone’s eyes and loved it anyway?

Characters: Loki Laufeyson/(f)Reader

Warnings: mild blood

Word Count: 3498

Previous Chapter 

It’s 5 in the morning. 

The sun isn’t even out yet and you’re standing in the kitchen, dressed in your pajamas, preparing smoothies. You thought you’d be used to waking up early, considering how you always used to make smoothies before everyone else woke up, but apparently your recent ‘break’ has thrown off your internal schedule. In fact, if not for FRIDAY’s not-so-gentle reminder of your morning plans, you wouldn’t have gotten up in time.  

You shake your head, tightening your grip on the mason jar you’re holding.  

It won’t happen again.  

It can’t.  

Not when you’re already in everyone’s way, always leeching off of Tony’s money, always causing trouble for Steve and making Bucky worry. Not when Natasha always feels a need to look after you and Wanda constantly checks in. Not when Sam and Clint feel obligated to train with you and Thor treats you like you’re going to break — going to shatter into a thousand tiny pieces and then cut and bleed all over the tower’s expensive, clean floors.  

No. If you can’t even do something as simple as making smoothies for the people you’re always inconveniencing, what use are you? 

Your fingers tighten and you can feel your nails digging into the hard glass of the mason jar. For a second, you wonder if it’s possible for you to scratch the class. You clench your fingers — hard — in an effort to break the glass. Just once, you want to break something else. But as you loosen your grip, you’re forced to come to terms with the fact that the jar is just as pristine as it always was.  

Not a single crack. Not even a scratch.  

The jar is fine — the jar is always fine. But your fingers are dented and your joints are sore and you’re so tired of this. Of always being the one who is damaged. The only one who is ever damaged. Everyone else is always unscathed and no one else ever breaks.  

You drop the mason jar. 

Shit. 

It falls to the ground and you watch as it shatters all over the floor.  

Maybe Thor is right. Maybe you are going to shatter one day, just like that mason jar. 

But it’s not going to be today. Breath quickening, you furiously remind yourself that it’s okay.  

It’s okay. It’s okay. It’s okay.  

It’s not you on the floor. Maybe one day it is going to be you, lying there broken and useless and fractured and gone, but right now, it's not. You’re still full and whole and not broken and the glittering glass fragments on the floor aren’t you. Looking back down, your eyes catch on droplets of red. Your breath stops and the air in your lungs still. Sure, the glass on the floor isn’t your ground-up soul, shattered and crushed, but the blood is yours. 

There are specks of blood splattered amidst the glass, staining the kitchen’s pristine floor. And you know it’s your blood because you can feel it dripping from your fingers where the glass cut into your skin and you can’t help but stare as a drop of it rolls off your middle finger and falls to the ground and you flinch as it lands in a little crimson circle.  

It’s pretty, though.  

And you can’t look away as another drop falls, landing directly on top of the previous one, doubling the size of the puddle. For a second, you wonder how much blood it would take to cover the entire floor — and if your body has enough.  

But then you hear footsteps approaching and you hastily kneel onto the ground, furiously attempting to clean up the mess you made, to fix it. More blood trickles from your fingertips as you desperately grab at the broken pieces. You’re making it worse.  

The glass blurs and you frantically blink, trying to rid yourself of the tears beginning to form in your eyes. The last thing you need is to cry — for your tears to mingle with your blood — for you to appear even weaker than you already do.  

But you are weak. You can’t even win this battle — against yourself, and you feel the tears overflow and you watch as they fall, turning the dark red into a lighter pink. 

It's a pretty pink. 

It’s a pink that reminds you of the first lipstick you ever bought. You and your best friend had gone down to the convenience store after school, sneakily carrying the lunch money you’d both saved. You remember counting the coins together and excitedly running towards the makeup aisle, where the both of you promptly agonized over the perfect lipstick for the better part of an hour.  

Eventually, you settled on a sparkly little tube of lipstick — more of a chapstick really, and you can distinctly recall how it smelled like heaven and tasted like strawberries, and how it always tinted your lips just the slightest bit pink.  

But right now, the pink you’re staring at isn’t lipstick, and you can very clearly make out two feet standing before you. Looking up, you meet a pair of eyes. Blue, like the sky on a sunny day. It’s a blue filled with promises of picnics and lemonade and daisies, of innocence and childhood, of strawberry lipstick. And in this moment, you want nothing more than to drown in that blue. 

Maybe if you bleed enough blood and cry enough tears you can drown in it. Maybe you can drown in the perfect shade of pink while staring into the perfect shade of blue.  

______________________________

For such a muscly man, Thor’s fingers are surprisingly soft.  

The god is currently standing before you, carefully bandaging your cut hands.  

“My lady, I thought you specifically told me that blood smoothies were not appetizing.” His attempt at humor brings a smile to your face, but you can’t do more. Shrugging, you answer. 

“Well, I guess I’m just a hypocrite.” His eyes squint, his eyebrows furrow, and you can tell he’s about to reassure you. You hurriedly continue. “Even the best of us make mistakes, Lord of Thunder.”  

Thor’s eyebrows relax again, and the corners of his eyes crinkle as he smiles. Relief courses through your veins. You wonder if Thor can feel it in the blood that is still leaking from your fingers. Gently, you tug your hands out of his grasp, just in case. Sending out a silent prayer of thanks to whatever prompted you to wear your black sweatpants today, you try not to grimace as the fabric brushes against your injured legs. At the very least, they conceal the blood. 

Thor doesn’t need to know about those. It’s bad enough that he’s already seen you dissolving into an emotional puddle earlier, not to mention how the literal King of Asgard had cleaned up the mess you made and is now attempting to inspect your hands again.  

“Were you planning on making the smoothies this morning, my lady?” Thor’s voice interrupts your thoughts and you look up, meeting his poorly-disguised-concerned gaze. 

“Yup.” You nod, popping the p . “I’m glad to be back, and I wanted to start making you guys smoothies before your morning workouts again. I know for a fact that whatever concoction you made yesterday was an absolute disaster.”  

Thor looks sheepish as he smiles, his hands running through his short blonde hair. “My brother would agree with you.”  

At this, you suddenly remember. You need to get Loki’s smoothie preference, as well as the time he wakes up. You know everyone’s preferred flavors, as well as their morning routines, to ensure your smoothies are always as fresh as possible.  

“Speaking of Loki, when does he wake up?” 

Thor shrugs, a confused look flitting across his face. “Truth be told, I don’t really know. Loki and I haven’t inhabited the same space in quite some time, and I am not familiar with his routines.”  

“Oh.” That would be slightly hard to work with. “Uh, well do you know what type of smoothie he might prefer?” 

Thor’s lips turn down into a pout. “I don’t think Loki would like any type of smoothie, my lady. Yesterday he made his distaste for smoothies quite clear."  

Before you can interrupt and remind him that his smoothie most definitely tasted nothing like your smoothies, he continues with a wink. "But I suppose if anyone could make a smoothie Loki does approve of, it would be you, my lady."  

You know Thor is somewhat disappointed by Loki’s lack of enthusiasm towards his smoothie. It’s easy to detect, even under his charming antics. Thor’s lips turn downward when he is upset, and he always picks at his nails. Sometimes he will suck in his cheek, and that’s when you know he is truly in a mood. But Thor never stays sad for long.  

His expression has brightened up again, and Thor is back, his ever-chipper energy once again emanating from within his warm eyes. There’s not a single trace of conflict in his eyes, and you wonder, for the hundredth time, how he does it. Thor has seen so much death — caused it, even — and been through so much pain, yet he is always able to hold it together, always able to smile and laugh and come back stronger. 

Thor is the embodiment of the word 'golden'. No matter how much dirt and grime Life layers on top of him, nothing could ever dim his luster.  

You think you're closer to being the dirt and grime than you ever were to being gold. 

“Thanks Thor.” 

______________________________

In the end, you settle on making Loki Thor’s favorite smoothie. After all, Thor is the only other god here who has dined on the finest Asgardian delicacies, and if he likes your chocolate-strawberry smoothies, you just hope Loki does too.  

The only difference is, Thor prefers his smoothies absurdly sweet. Whether it’s his insane metabolism or the ten thousand calories he burns a day, he never seems to be affected by the hundreds of grams of sugar you’re sure he consumes.  

You’re carefully pouring the smoothie into two mason jars when Nat comes into the kitchen. You smile and motion towards her drink sitting on the counter. Natasha prefers a green smoothie, packed with kale and spinach and cucumbers and ginger — not the best tasting thing you’ve ever made, but it must do something , ‘cause Nat looks like she doesn’t understand what the word ‘bloating’ means.  

The redhead raises an eyebrow, motioning to the second mason jar you’re carefully pouring. “Does Thor drink two of those every morning now?” 

“Well, no. This one's for Loki. I don’t know what he prefers, so I thought I’d make him Thor’s favorite for now. Except without the whipped cream and excessive number of chocolate chips.” 

Nat’s other eyebrow raises. “You’re kidding right? Angel, stay away from Loki. He’s a dangerous man. He’s deranged and unstable and selfish. He’s not going to appreciate your smoothie.” 

And with that, all the self doubt rushes back in. The self hatred that Thor’s fingers had smoothed away, the shame that bled from your fingertips, it all rushes back in, pumping through your veins and into your heart.  

“Do you appreciate my smoothie?” You hadn’t meant for it to come out, and you certainly hadn’t meant for it to sound so insecure. 

Nat’s eyes widen, and she hastily retreats. “Nono Angie, that's not what I meant. Come on, you know all of us love your smoothies. What I’m trying to say is —” her fingers meet her forehead in a gesture of frustration “ — we appreciate and love you for all that you do, but Loki won’t. He’s too arrogant and he definitely thinks we’re all beneath him.”  

With that, she moves closer to you and envelopes you in a hug. Natasha means well, you know that, but she doesn’t realize how her words come off — how she just backed up the little voice inside your head, repeatedly telling you that you’re worthless. You wonder if she even wants your smoothie, or if she just humors you. And then her arms retreat from around you, and she steps back. 

“Sorry Angie, but I’ve got to go now. I love you — we all do. You know that right?”  

You nod, and smile. “Thanks Nat. I love you too.” 

______________________________

Natasha’s smoothie has separated. The blended ingredients have floated to the top, and the green liquid has settled below. The abandoned smoothie sits on the edge of the counter, where she left it, only reaffirming your suspicions that she didn’t really want it in the first place. Dimly, you consider dumping Loki’s smoothie out. Maybe Natasha is right. But you don’t really want to waste any food, so you move to put his smoothie in the fridge. Maybe Thor will drink it later.  

(If he even likes them.) 

But as you open the fridge door, you notice the plate of leftovers you snagged yesterday is gone. The saran wrapped plate is missing, and you don’t think anyone would have taken it, except…? You look around for the plate. It’s not in the sink or left on the counter, nor lying in the dishwasher. You find it in the cabinets, placed directly on top of its companions.  

You’re confident that no one in this tower would clean their plate after eating, except maybe Steve. But Steve isn’t here — he made his famous lasagna last night because he was leaving for a mission early today. So really, that just leaves Loki.  

Is it possible that Nat was wrong? 

Did Loki take the food you left for him? And ate all of it? And cleaned up? 

You suddenly remember yesterday, walking in on Loki scrubbing blood off the floor. You can’t say you were surprised Thor had left a mess, but you were somewhat surprised Loki was cleaning it up. Maybe it is possible then.  

So you decide to bring the smoothie to Loki. 

First, you make a quick stop at your room. Your legs are really starting to sting, and you don’t want the sweatpants to dry onto your skin. Damn. You’re going to have to wash these again, and you just did laundry. But it’s okay, and soon you’re walking out of your room, clad in another pair of sweatpants and an oversized hoodie, holding Loki’s smoothie. 

You take the elevator and press the familiar button of Thor’s floor. Mentally, you’re once again debating whether or not this is a good idea. You’ve almost decided to just turn back when the elevator doors slide open and you make eye contact with Loki, who is standing awkwardly in the doorway of his room, one foot inside the door and one foot in the plush carpet of the Odinsons’ shared living room.  

His eyebrows are raised comically in an expression of surprise, and for a second you don’t see the intimidating god. 

But then the moment passes, and he straightens, eyes narrowing, eyebrows drawing together in a frown. “Can I help you?” 

A part of you — a large part of you — wants to leave immediately. To apologize for disturbing him and go back to your room. But another part of you, the one who caught a glimpse of Loki before he threw up his defenses, roots you to the ground.  

“Actually, yeah. I made you a smoothie.” You stick out your hand, ignoring the way it trembles slightly. “I know Thor’s smoothie probably tasted like shit, so I thought I’d make you one to show you how it's done.” 

When he doesn’t move, you step further into the living room and set the smoothie down. One of Thor’s hoodies is lying haphazardly across the coffee table, so you pick it up. Loki is staring at you. 

There’s an awkward silence, and you wish he would say something. Anything. But the raven haired prince is as stoic as ever. His eyes are still boring into your own and you can’t help but notice how strikingly different they are from Thor’s.  

Somehow, you’re engaged in a staring contest with the god — and you don’t really want to lose. In an effort, perhaps, to prove to yourself that you’re not weak (especially after the morning’s incident) you resist the increasing temptation to blink. You don’t want Loki to think you’re scared of him, even though you may be a bit wary , and you continue to stare into his eyes. 

They say eyes are the windows to the soul. If that’s true, Loki has a very — empty soul. It’s neither warm nor cold, just vacant . It’s almost as if you’re staring into the eyes of someone long dead.  

With that, you shiver, and surprisingly, Loki breaks the intense eye contact. He looks away then, and his head tilts downward.  

“Right then. I’ll just be on my way.” You hold up Thor’s hoodie. “I’m going to do some laundry. Do you have anything that needs to be washed?” 

You hope he doesn’t ignore you. You really don’t need that today. You just need to be productive. To do something — to help someone. And maybe he senses that, because Loki actually nods and walks back into his bedroom, leaving you to stand awkwardly in the middle of the lavish living space.  

A few moments later, Loki reemerges, effortlessly holding a laundry hamper.  

“Would you like me to take this down?”  

You’re a bit stunned by his unexpected and considerate offer, but your desire to prove yourself shines through.  

“Nah, I got it. Thanks.” 

With that, you lug Loki’s hamper and Thor’s hoodie out of their room, leaving Loki’s smoothie — and an intense hope he drinks it — behind. 

______________________________

Loki is an unbelievably neat person.  

His dirty clothes are folded — inside his hamper. And organized by article, as well as color. You don’t think he realizes how — awkward — it makes the entire process. After carefully shoving his button downs, slacks, sweaters, and jeans into the washer, you’re left with an interesting assortment of clothing.  

His undershirts are ridiculously soft, and you resist the urge to snag one. This isn’t Thor, you remind yourself. After piling them in, you stare at his hamper. Loki has folded his socks, which are paired together. You sincerely hope the washer doesn’t decide to eat one of them, as you doubt he understands the Midgardian concept of missing socks.  

Below his socks are… Loki’s boxers. You wipe away the mental image your mind involuntarily conjures and quickly dump the rest of the clothing into the washer, without touching anything.  

With that, you throw in Thor’s hoodie and your sweatpants, start the cycle, and leave, shaking your head.  

On the way back to your room, you realize that Loki has a very limited closet. All of his laundry had barely filled up his hamper, and you notice how most of his clothing consisted of somewhat uncomfortable items. You haven’t seen him around due to your break, but from his clothing you can assume that Loki has a very different fashion taste than Thor. Mentally, you make a note to slip him some of your oversized hoodies when returning his clothes.  

______________________________

You’re immensely thankful for Thor. He always seems to have the best — or worst — timing, and this time he has saved you from a rather embarrassing situation. 

You’re pulling Loki’s clothes out of the dryer (having already stolen Thor’s hoodie), and you’ve just started to fold his clothes. So far, you’ve shoved a forest green hoodie at the very bottom of the hamper, and you’re in the process of carefully layering Loki’s sweaters over it. Thankfully, the dryer is still mostly full, and you haven’t been confronted with the dilemma of handling Loki’s underwear again.  

Luckily, Thor walks in before you have to.  

“Are you doing Loki’s laundry, my lady?” His voice startles you and you jump, but manage to not drop Loki’s earthy brown sweater.  

“No,” you deadpan, “These are all mine.” 

Thor smiles that smile you’re so familiar with, and you can’t help but grin back. “Well, let me take it from here.” His grin falters for a moment, and he looks more serious when he continues. “Thank you Angel, for giving Loki a chance. I know he can be — difficult. And I wouldn’t blame you if you only saw the villain.” 

You meet Thor’s eyes, always filled with emotion — whether that be happiness or warmth, sadness or anger, and you think back to another pair of eyes. Soulless. You think of Loki, and you think of how you’ve seen those soulless eyes before; every single time you look into a mirror. And for a second, you let yourself believe that maybe Loki’s soul wasn’t voluntarily taken from him either. Maybe his cruelty is his defense, just like yours is the fake-happiness that you wear as a shield. 

“It’s no problem Thor.” You smile, your shield intact. “I couldn’t let him suffer with your smoothies forever, no matter how villainous he might be.” 

______________________________ 

Cruelty is just loneliness disguised as bitterness.  

- Tom Hiddleston 

______________________________

Previous Chapter  Next Chapter

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Taglist: @spacedaddydinn @doct0rstrange

[formenis]

Sfw alphabet: Mello

Anon asked: “Sfw alphabet for Mello?“

Sure, my dear Mellover~

A = Affection (How affectionate are they? How do they show affection?)

Since he is very emotional, he loves showing affection to his S/O but not in public. However, in few rare cases, his S/O would feel his arm wrapped around their waist or sense a gentle touch at the hand at the hideout around other mafia members. You know, just to let the others know who you both belong to.

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B = Best friend (What would they be like as a best friend? How would the friendship start?)

Mello is a great friend. But since he is your best friend, he is even better. He helps you solving your problems, he is there to listen to you and to give you some advice. Very often, if someone dares to insult or approach you in an inappropriate way, he wouldn't think twice about beating this person and remind them with who they were talking about.

.

C = Cuddles (Do they like to cuddle? How would they cuddle?)

Cuddles with Mello are essential. Especially after a long, stressful day. He loves hearing his S/O's heartbeat against his skin or smelling the wonderful aroma of your shampoo. Those sound and smells help him calm down since they remind him of you. But this particular side of Mello's personality are reserved only to you in private places like the bedroom; outside, among other people, he would act as bold and unconcerned about those “useless” things.

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D = Domestic (Do they want to settle down? How are they at cooking and cleaning?)

Mello is too young for those things. His only desire is to live his life to the fullest without thinking about chores or things like that. However, he admits he can cook many dishes but he would never do it. Instead, he loves helping his S/O baking cakes or sweets (but only if he is in a good mood).

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E = Ending (If they had to break up with their partner, how would they do it?)

If his S/O breaks up: he would feel overwhelmed: breaking things or shooting at cans and bottles at the hideout's shooting range or just avoiding eye contact with you. The moment he heard those words he felt the world falling on him, his heart was cold again.

If Mello breaks up: he is overwhelmed as well. Because he doesn’t want to do it but he has to. His life was becoming too dangerous for you and he couldn’t bare seeing you in pain. Sure, that separation would make you suffer anyways but at least you aren’t physically injured or dead because of him.  

.

F = Fiance(e) (How do they feel about commitment? How quick would they want to get married?)

If to settle down is a no for Mello, marriage is a total different thing. Despite he doesn’t believe couples need a piece of paper to prove their love, he wouldn’t mind seeing his S/O in nice and elegant clothes walking down the aisle.

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G = Gentle (How gentle are they, both physically and emotionally?)

Mello can be considered as a rough person both emotionally and physically speaking. Of course he considers your emotions too but his past and the responsibilities pushed him into the rough side.

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H = Hugs (Do they like hugs? How often do they do it? What are their hugs like?)

Mello is a touched-starved boy. If you're alone with him, please touch him as much as you can: delicate hair brushing with fingers, soft caresses over his scar or arms and hugs. Oh, he loves hugs so much (but always in alone times). Sometimes he would hug his S/O a bit too tightly but you like it anyway.

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I = I love you (How fast do they say the L-word?)

He wouldn’t say it by his own initiative, at first. But once he heard it from you, he couldn’t get enough of it. He starts saying it more often just to hear you say it back. But, as many other things, it depends on his mood.

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J = Jealousy (How jealous do they get? What do they do when they’re jealous?)

Oh no, don’t make this young boy jealous. A stranger is too close to you? He would suddenly appear at you side and check the situation. Someone has a flirtatious behaviour with you? He would remind that person that they were three: you, him and his gun. However, around your friends he wouldn’t be jealous since he knows them, and if you trust them he trusts them as well.

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K = Kisses (What are their kisses like? Where do they like to kiss you? Where do they like to be kissed?)

Mello is very passionate with kisses, he loves telling you his most personal feelings through kisses. Sometimes those simple kisses become true make out sessions. Anyway, he loves when you kiss his scar: that gesture makes him feel so much loved and a wide smile will appear on his exhausted face.

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L = Little ones (How are they around children?)

Ugh, children. Another no for Mello. He is very awkward around them, he thinks they're too energetic and undisciplined for his taste. He could bare calm and educated children but the others…nu-uh.

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M = Morning (How are mornings spent with them?)

Not matter what time is it, you two have to spend at least a good hour together cuddling in the bed. Then, sooner or later, you have to leave your warm bed and start your day. You are appointed to prepare breakfast while Mello would look at you with tired yet admiring eyes.

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N = Night (How are nights spent with them?)

Night is Mello's favourite part of the day. He loves the atmosphere night creates he could be himself finally. He would go out with his S/O for a ride to show you a new place he discovered or just to have your arms wrapped around him.

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O = Open (When would they start revealing things about themselves? Do they say everything all at once or wait a while to reveal things slowly?)

He is very slowly in opening up. He must be 100% sure about the person he likes before saying something about himself. But even in that case, he thinks there's not much to talk about. If you want to know something about him or his past, you have to subtlety ask him.

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P = Patience (How easily angered are they?)

His strong emotions don’t make him a patient person. He is a hothead, someone with a short temper. However, he does his best not to lose his patience when you're involved but even with you he could explode and start yelling. This is the only time you could hear him sincerely apologise and he'd never lay a hand on you. Never.

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Q = Quizzes (How much would they remember about you? Do they remember every little detail you mention in passing, or do they kind of forget everything?)

Mello has a very good memory. Every date, name and event are printed in him memory like a book. However, he once forgot about your birthday (he was so buried with work that time) but he soon made it up to you by buying you F/F bouquet.

.

R = Remember (What is their favourite moment in your relationship?)

Ugh, for him it sounds so embarrassing but he reminds very well the first time the two of them confessed their feelings for each other. His excellent memory played an important role: he remembers what his S/O wore, the place when it happened and even what time it was. He would replay that moment over and over in his mind during cuddle times.

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S = Security (How protective are they? How would they protect you? How would they like to be protected?)

He is very protective but not in an overprotective and obsessive way. Of course he would be scared and worried if you don’t answer his calls for many hours but once you reassure him your phone was dead he would calm down. Moreover, he likes when you stand up for him during a discussion, this makes him feel loved and important.

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T = Try (How much effort would they put into dates, anniversaries, gifts, everyday tasks?)

Despite he remembers every important date, he wasn’t a "date guy". However, Mello would surprise his S/O with gifts and he will do everything he can to make you smile.

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U = Ugly (What would be some bad habits of theirs?)

Since Mello eats chocolate every day and in every moment, without his favourite sweet he becomes rather moody and grumpy. In addition, he had to visit the dentist very often because of his (unhealthy) habit.

.

V = Vanity (How concerned are they with their looks?)

Mello could be quite vain about his look. We all know he has a peculiar and good taste about clothes: leather attires were his signature. He had many different rosaries and jewels in his room and he would take care of his skin as well (considering all chocolate he eats every day).

.

W = Whole (Would they feel incomplete without you?)

Outside people would see a cold and emotionless face but the truth is that he would feel alone and devastated. Without you Mello was just an empty shell, all his movements would be mechanic; since you were everything for him, your loss would push him in a slow downfall.

.

X = Xtra (A random headcanon for them.)

He has the rare skill to appear fabulous with any outfit: rock? Perfect. Punk? Even better. One of your dresses? Majestic (it's a sight reserved to you thou).

.

Y = Yuck (What are some things they wouldn’t like, either in general or in a partner?)

Mello loves when his S/O shares their opinion with him. It means he hates if his partner just nods at everything he says. He thinks sharing different opinions and point of view is one of the many keys in a relationship and he couldn’t stay with someone who doesn’t do that.

.

Z = Zzz (What is a sleep habits of theirs?)

When Mello is particularly tired, he has the strange habit to fall asleep in different and strange places: on a chair, on the counter and even on the ground. In these cases, if his S/O finds him in such positions you have to move him somewhere else or (even better) move him on the bed.

[sokkas-honour]

number 16 w zuzu??

detention - zuko x reader

pairing: zuko x reader

wc: 1.5k with lyrics

notes/warnings: this takes place with s1 zuko so it won’t be too happy. also the relationship isn’t exactly healthy because the song just doesn’t give me space for that. i also switch between talking about zuko and y/n so be warned.

somewhat of a part two

atla taglist: @missmorosis @draqondance @biqherosix

im not a bad guy, so don't treat me bad if im feeling sad, alright?

“y/n!” the banished prince yelled as he violently slammed your door open in the early hours of the morning. you groaned and turned in your bed so your back was facing him, you didn’t want to deal with zuko right now.

“y/n, you’re late. you’re late by thirty minutes.” he stated rather harshly and crossed his arms as he stood his ground by your door, observing you trying to pretend not to hear him.

annoyed, he started to make his way towards you to rip the covers off of your body stopped when he saw the tears stains on your cheek. his hands froze right above the cover, unsure what to do.

you could feel his presence so you reluctantly pushed the covers off of you, causing the ex prince to move back in order not to be slapped by it. you turned to face him and saw the slightest bit of concern etched into his face, you rose your eyebrow in confusion.

“why are you looking at me as if i’ve just come back from the worst fight of my life.” you questioned, your morning voice coming out as slightly raspy, though not as much as zuko’s. you were one of the only people that could talk to zuko however you wanted.

the firelord had ordered you about two years ago to serve as some sort of bodyguard to the banished prince. you had been ripped away from your people and family at a young age, one of the last waterbenders of the southern water tribe. he had decided to spare your life and in turn, you had to serve the young fire nation royalty. between the two siblings, zuko was the kindest to you and often offered to spar with you meaning your water bending contained many firenation forms.

when he’d been burned by his father and sent to find the avatar, you had been assigned to only him. you served as some sort of normality to the young firebender, a way to try and keep him sane. zuko respected you and treated you as a friend but his constant mood swings around you made him extremely unpredictable. nonetheless, he was the only friend you’d ever known and cared immensely for him.

“were you crying?” he spoke up after a short silence had fallen in between the both of you.

“no, why?”

“then why are there tear stains on your cheeks.” he persisted, using his voice that he usually reserved for the guards when they annoyed him.

you sighed, you had forgotten how you’d felt down last night and your mind immediately went to your parents. you still had memories of them but as you grew, they slowly faded more and more which terrified you. the whole fiasco making you fall asleep crying long after midnight.

“forget it, it’s not important. i was just feeling down.” you confessed, sitting up in your bed.

“good because you’re getting extra cleaning duties for missing our sparring station.” any ounce of friendliness that he’d shown a minute ago vanished and you were left with the zuko that the entire crew knew, the angsty, ungrateful and hot headed prince.

please don't be mad if i don't smile back, alright? if i fuck up my words, don't think im absurd, alright?

he left your room and made his way towards the front of the boat, leaving you dumbfounded and confused to his 180 towards you.

zuko never knew how to express his emotion to begin with but when it came to you, he was clueless on how to act. you made him feel things that he wasn’t use to, you constantly tried to make him feel loved, something that he’d only received from his mother and it confused him. he hated that he’d caught feelings for his friend and the only way he knew how to act was aggressiveness. so, whenever you showed respect he gave it to you back but whenever you showed him affection, you only received aggressiveness.

he was always terrified of you waking one day and deciding to be furious at his lack of emotional connection with you, and you had every right to do that, frankly he was surprised you still hadn’t cracked. every morning, you’d greet him with the biggest smile on the deck of the boat to start your sparring session, and practically every morning, you were met with a grumble and an emotionless face.

he truly had no idea how to deal with your kindness and patience, he knew that if he was in your place, he would’ve yelled at himself much earlier. zuko just didn’t deserve you for the way he treated you, and he completely knew that but a part of him tried his hardest to show some sort of emotion when it was just the two of you.

those moments were limited but, on those occasions, you’d watch him try and put his feelings into word, he always failed miserably which always earned him an encouraging smile from you.

alright? im physically exhausted

you dragged yourself out of bed, that wasn’t the first night you’d cried yourself to sleep. being stuck with zuko was fine to extent, you constantly tried to show him only kindness, hoping that one day he’d give it back you all the time and not just on isolated occasions.

the constant kindness on top of your recent longing for your parents and your people completely drained you for any energy.

you sighed and went to close the door as soon as zuko left and got ready for the day, throwing on a random red tunic. you took a quick look in your mirror to make sure you didn’t look like a complete mess and you completely saw why zuko’s intial reaction to seeing you was concern, you looked terrible. your hair was dishevelled, your cheeks were red and had a faint tear trail, your eyes were puffy and your eye bags were prominent, meaning anyone could see your lack of sleep in the last couple of days.

the lack of care definitely told you how tired you were but your treasured the fact that you weren’t on zuko’s bad side, you loved your moments together when he’d open up. you knew that if you didn’t follow his orders, which he frankly didn’t give you often, you could easily loose anything you’d built up.

tired of my knuckles beating, im chewing gum to pass this time of sadness

you sat down with the rest of the guards and munched down on your breakfast of rice. munched down is an exaggeration, you simply picked at it. none of them questioned it, you weren’t close to any of them and they simply thought you were brave and foolish to befriend the prince, to deal with his obnoxious behaviour. they were right in their own way.

cant you see it? you're too busy seeking selfish wishes, don't care how im feeling

at the end of the day that’d you spent practically by yourself, you knocked on zuko’s chamber, hoping you could talk to him. he’d built his own habit of coming to yours whenever he’d have a problem or something that troubled him so you assumed you had the right to do the same.

“who is it?” his harsh raspy voice practically yelled from behind the door.

“it’s y/n.” you heard footsteps on the other side approaching the door and he opened it. you smiled slightly as you saw the book that was abandonned on his bed.

“i was wondering if i could talk to you?” you sheepishly asked, raising your hand to scratch the back of your neck. he responded with a nod and moved out of the way so that you could step in. you made your way to his bed and sat on his, waiting for him to join you.

he made his way next you and looked at you expectingly, waiting for you to start telling him what was on your mind.

“i guess you deserve an explanation as to why i’ve been like this in the last couple of days.” you started but he soon interrupted you.

“it’s fine. you can resume aiding me in catching the avatar tomorrow, i’m sure you’ll be fine.” his interruption shocked you, it was just, completely out of place and downright rude.

“you know what zuko.” your usually kind gaze turned harsh as you stood up. “you’re so fucking selfish, i’ve let you come to me whenever you want to tell me about your problems. god forbid you do the same. you could care less about how i’m feeling! you’re so blind and oblivious to how much that hurts! it hurts to care about someone who doesn’t even seem to give an ounce of care about how you feel!”

your voice had risen to the point that the guards outside of his room probably heard you accuse him. annoyed by his selfish actions that hurt you more than you’d care to say, you quickly left his chamber wanting to be alone.

zuko looked at you leave and cursed himself, you were the kindest person and he’d probably hurt you more than he could fathom. god was he stupid.

[attack-on-kiwi]

For the fluff alphabet could you maybe do Erwin or Jean? Both of them are my personal favorite characters

You’ve got good taste! 

Jean alphabet can be found here

Erwin Smith:

A ctivities - What do they like to do with their s/o? How do they spend their free time with them?

Meals together is a huge thing for Erwin. This man’s schedule is packed to the rim, so any free time where he can catch his s/o hungry is perfect. He enjoys sharing even just a pastry or chat over a drink if that’s all they have time for.

Erwin looks forward to sleeping in the same bed as them. He considers embracing one another a completely valid pastime and ranks it as one of his top favorite activities. 

If he’s able to take his s/o out, he’ll do so at the fanciest place available (though, that’s not many considering where he is stationed at any given time).

B eauty - What do they admire about their s/o? What do they think is beautiful about them?

Their persistence and drive is what drew Erwin to them. He held himself to a rule about not giving into personal relationships when he became commander of the scouts since it would understandably get in the way of his goals, but his s/o never gave up on him. In the end, he was convinced to give the two a chance, and he couldn’t be more surprised by just how much they ended up meaning to him. 

Erwin finds their legs gorgeous. He’s a legs man, and there’s something about the way they’re only exposed for him that brings out an extremely possessive and blatantly mischievous side of him. He could spend all night kissing up their calves and thighs and not need a moment’s rest.

C omfort - How would they help their s/o when they feel down/have a panic attack etc.?

Erwin tries to be calm about the entire thing. He’ll immediately get them out of any noisy environment and try to coax the reason why their panicking out of them. He’s patient and lets them ride out the attack however they need to while stroking their back. He won’t say too much, rather he thinks if they want to talk to him they will. He’s not one to pressure them, but he’ll let them know he’s going to be there when they need to. 

He’s not one to get too hung up on their moods- after all, he needs to worry about other things, and unfortunately, their episode stays just another happening of the past.

D reams - How do they picture their future with their s/o?

Erwin doesn’t envision a future. Instead, he sticks to getting through days. He’s aware that his, and most likely his s/o’s, time is limited, so he’s not one to delude himself into thinking he truly has a future. Especially as the commander of the scouts, every expedition leads him just feet away from the jaws of death. That being said, Erwin is definitely an ‘in-the-moment’ type of person who does try to make the most of any time he can spend with his lover.

E qual - Are they the dominant one in the relationship, or rather passive?

He’s definitely dominant. He knows what he wants, and he’s quite expressive of any expectations he has. It’s important to him to be transparent and own up to being with someone. (Though, that doesn’t mean he’s completely open to them). Erwin likes to be in control and in the know of what he’s getting himself into, so he’s more than likely to take charge. He’s also a natural leader, so those tendencies can seep into his relationship more often than not.

F ight - Would they be easy to forgive their s/o? How are they fighting?

Erwin can forgive but he can’t forget. For smaller issues, he really doesn’t care, though he might think his s/o is being immature and will state as such. If the issue is more serious, such as loyalty or cheating him in some way, then he’s truly a power to be reckoned with. He’s logical when it comes to conflict, and this can be deadly as he will only face the cold hard facts. It’s uncommon for his anger to get the best of him. The most his s/o can expect is severe disappointment and long term trust issues that may never be resolved. Yes, he holds grudges, even if he seems all prim and proper.

G ratitude - How grateful are they in general? Are they aware of what their s/o is doing for them?

He’s thankful for his s/o sticking by his side even though he can be a challenge to get along with. He knows he’s not the most approachable, and it’s even harder for someone to get him in a vulnerable state. Because of this, he’s always counting his blessings when it comes to him. He can be inconsistent in his displays of affection, and his s/o will question their place in his life at times. He doesn’t want them to, but he’s also aware that he’s not the best partner for someone who requires more tender and frequent care. He knows all too well the sacrifices his s/o makes for him, and he holds them dear to his heart always.

H onesty - Do they have secrets they hide from their s/o? Or do they share everything?

Yes, he has secrets. His true motives for his mission are never spoken of. Most of his past is a mystery as well, and it would take years or a notable traumatic experience for Erwin to even consider sharing anything with his s/o. He  believes if he’s with them in the moment, the past and topics that are irrelevant to them shouldn’t be important. 

He doesn’t go out of his to make it apparent that there are barriers. Unless his s/o is quite perceptive or has been with him for a long period of time, they may be none the wiser.

That being said, Erwin does hold a facade in public. He has to conduct himself in a specific manner as the commander of the scouts. When alone with his lover, he is more willing to relax and joke around with them. That’s his way of being honest.

I nspiration - Did their s/o change them somehow, or the other way around? Like trying out new things or helped them overcome personal problems?

No. Erwin’s stubborn in his ways, and he thinks he’s got this whole people thing down. His s/o brings out a more sluggish side of him--one that will indulge in staying in bed for a few minutes longer than appropriate, but there’s nothing notable. However, his s/o does grow thicker skin in their relationship and learn how to be more logical. It’s a byproduct of being around a calculated man who doesn’t feel the need to water himself down. 

Erwin is more than happy to guide his s/o with their issues. In fact, it’s one way he shows affection. To him, putting in effort to reduce pressure on his partner’s shoulders is one of the most noble deeds a lover can take part of. He’s on the practical side, after all, so putting his skills to use in such a manner is right up his alley.

J ealousy - Do they get jealous easily? How do they deal with it?

Erwin is too secure with himself to even bother getting jealous. He knows he can handle any unwarranted passes and can get rid of people that may try to get too close to his s/o. Usually, he’ll let his s/o deal with a situation themselves-- seeing how they respond to obvious attraction is one way he gauges if they are worth the long-term. If it’s a situation they’re uncomfortable in or obviously overpowered, Erwin is more than willing to step in.

K iss - Are they a good kisser? What was the first kiss like?

Erwin’s a phenomenal kisser. Working his way around his s/o’s lips is natural for him, and he knows just how to tease them to get them begging. He utilizes this skill more than he should, and how his s/o hasn’t slapped him for it is beyond anyone.

Their first kiss was sloppy and desperate. It was in his office after an expedition that left the scouts numbers dwindling, as always. The adrenaline and stress of another failed mission just overtook him, and his then indulgent interest was trying to relax him with a shoulder massage. Erwin simply cursed under his breath and stood up to face them. Next thing they knew, the commander wasn’t even giving them a moment to breathe with how hard he was loving their lips and neck. It surely left bruises, but no one was complaining.

L ove Confession - How would they confess to their s/o?

Erwin has never confessed lol

M arriage - Do they want to get married? How do they propose? What would the marriage be like?

The thought of marriage crosses his mind only when he’s in a desperate situation, such as losing his arm on the battlefield and then when he has his fateful encounter with the beast titan. 

If he ever did propose, it would be a quiet affair, likely in his office where the two were illuminated by candlelight. Erwin has the rings already, and he’d just officiate for them, since there’s no use in getting an official one. He would consider it if his s/o requested it. Very few know the two are married, though he doesn’t make an effort to hide the face. He wears his ring when he can and will often find himself glancing at it.

Marriage with Erwin is nothing over the top. He will get his s/o gifts when he can and will love them as often as his schedule permits. For the most part, nothing about the relationship changes.

N icknames - What do they call their s/o?

“Dear”, “My other half”, “Sweetheart”, He likes using classical nicknames that can roll off his tongue and make his s/o melt. No matter how cheesy the names are, it’s impossible for his s/o to not feel giddy.

O n Cloud Nine - What are they like when they are in love? Is it obvious for others? How do they express their feelings?

He’s kinder, patient, and allows himself to enjoy the little moments. He’ll take pause. He’ll smile openly. That facade of his cracks ever so slightly. Most others don’t take notice--no one knows him enough to tell a difference. His s/o can feel his love through his gentle kisses, the way he has a hand on their back in a crowd, how he always checks in with them before taking his leave, and the way his eyes look ever so slightly far off in a dream as he admires them.

P DA - Are they upfront about their relationship? Do they brag with their s/o in front of others? Or are they rather shy to kiss etc. when others are watching?

Erwin isn’t prone to outright stating his relationship, though he will not hide it. If at an event, he is more than happy to introduce them as his s/o and even takes pride in the notion. He won’t brag, but he might allude to someone taking his s/o by example. “___ is exceptional at that, you might want to ask them”. 

Public displays of affection are limited to kisses on the cheek and linking arms. As the leader of the scouts, he’s not privy to the idea of going around and being intimate where everyone can see, but more so than that, he likes to keep his relationship to himself. It’s a personal one, so he’d rather enjoy it in his own peace.

Q uirk - Some random ability they have that’s beneficial in a relationship.

Erwin’s a scientist in the kitchen. He can make do with few ingredients and bring out the most of a meal. It’s always a treat to see what he’s coming up with, and date nights often end with him providing the fruits of his labor. Cooking is one of the few times his s/o gets to see him completely relaxed, so they try to have random ingredients lying around in case he wants to grace them with both his beauty and culinary skill. 

R omance - How romantic are they? What would they do to make their s/o happy? Cliché or rather creative?

Now, I know I’ve been saying Erwin isn’t too personal, but he’s still romantic. Again, just in a traditional sense. He’ll slow dance in his office with his s/o and kiss them up and down their neck to make them laugh. He tells little off-hand jokes that most people, except his s/o, don’t catch. He’ll whisper about how grateful he is for them and how they make life seem a little less daunting. It’s hard to be completely romantic without being vulnerable… and he will be-- just for a second.

S upport - Are they helping their s/o achieve their goals? Do they believe in them?

It depends on the goal. Considering that his own goal, he has no right to call anyone else’s goal out of the ordinary. He does have strong opinions, and if he feels his s/o’s goal truly is out of reach he will say so. Aside from being opinionated, Erwin can help set plans and will hold his s/o to timelines. If they are serious about reaching said goal, he’s going to enforce whatever deadlines he can to make sure they are held accountable. He does this both to encourage responsibility and see his s/o thrive.

T hrill - Do they need to try out new things to spice out your relationship? Or do they prefer a certain routine?

When he was younger, Erwin liked to go out of his way and be spontaneous. This involved riding out into the forest during ungodly hours of the night and breaking into thieves' hideouts to see if they could find anything interesting. Of course, he disguised those excursions under the flat excuse of ‘real life training’ but in fact, he just desired some sort of excitement. 

Later on in life, Erwin much prefers to stay true to a routine as much as he can. Due to his work, he can’t expect most days to go according to plan, therefore, he values having structure in his personal life. 

U nderstanding - How good do they know their partner? Are they empathetic?

To even get into a relationship with Erwin, he needs to know a good amount about the person of interest. He’s suspicious and not easily swayed by others, so it gives him peace of mind to feel that he knows his s/o well, even if he doesn’t give them the same courtesy. Erwin is empathetic to a degree. He will not feel his partner’s emotions deeply, rather he will try to understand and respond appropriately, especially in sensitive times.

V alue - How important is the relationship to them? What is it’s worth in comparison to other things in their life?

His relationship with his s/o is more important than he lets on. They’re one of his reasons for living-- a fact  he will never outwardly admit. Erwin’s a loyal man, so his loyalty to his s/o is unquestionable. Sadly, his mission to ‘save humanity’ will always take precedence over them. 

W ild Card - A random Fluff Headcanon.

When he’s had a notably stressful day, he wants to come home and sleep in his lover’s arms. It’s easy to convince him to sit in a bath and rub his shoulders. He’s susceptible to showing a little more affection than usual. He’ll entertain kisses down his shoulder and share tales from his childhood. If he’s tired enough, his s/o could even convince him to imagine a future (wild, I know).

X OXO - Are they very affectionate? Do they love to kiss and cuddle?

Erwin thinks he’s affectionate. He’s not opposed to his s/o wanting affection, and when he’s proud or feeling good, he will show it. As mentioned before, he’s touching his s/o in some way in public, even if it’s not conventionally intimate. When the two are alone, he likes having them in his lap as he peppers their jaw and collar with hot kisses. Oh, the mouth on this man-- hopefully his s/o enjoys being nipped, because there’s no stopping him.

Y earning - How will they cope when they’re missing their partner?

He looks at it logically. Either he dies before he sees them, or he’ll see them and they can enjoy one another’s company. There’s no point in pondering.

Z eal - Are they willing to go to great lengths for the relationship? If so, what kind of?

Yes, and no. Erwin’s already going through ‘great lengths’ for his mission. He uses this and says he is fighting for them, though the truth in the statement is debatable.

[backtothestart02]

Breaking Point - 1/1(?) | westallen fanfiction

A/N: Based off the twitter reaction to Barry time-traveling w/o telling Iris ahead of time in 7x16. This fic is Iris’ reaction once he tells her, and it’s maybe a bit extreme? You’ll have to decide for yourself. I was feelings angsty when I wrote it and when I initially thought it up, so there’s that. If there’s a demand for more of this fic, I’ll gladly write more, but if not, the ending is open to interpretation what could happen next. Oh! And Iris is not blipping in and out of timelines and Godspeed clones didn’t prevent Barry from making it to the future. Enjoy! =P

...

Synopsis:  7x16 - Canon Divergent - Time-Travel has its consequences.

...

When Barry returned from 2049, he was brimming with energy. Lightning was still crackling all around him when he came to a stop back in STAR Labs. Chester and Caitlin looked at him, intrigued. When he didn’t say anything, only grinned, Chester couldn’t hold himself back any longer.

“Well, how is everything? Did it all go okay?”

He rocked back and forth from his toes to his heels, Barry’s enthusiasm contagious.

“Yeah,” Caitlin added, also curious but more amused than anything by the two of them. “We thought for a second that something went wrong, because-”

“No, no, nothing went wrong. Everything is great!” Barry sighed contently.

Caitlin laughed and shared a look with Chester.

“So, you found Nora,” she concluded.

“Not just Nora.”

“Oh?”

But just as he was about to spill the beans, it occurred to Barry that maybe future details should be kept where they belonged. In the future.

Except with Iris. He could tell her. In fact, right now there was nothing more that he wanted to do was tend to her and assure her Nora was all right – and she wasn’t alone.

“Yeah, I gotta go.”

He pushed past the two of them and headed towards the end of the tunnel.

“W-wait, Barry!”

Reluctantly, he stopped.

“What about Godspeed?”

“Yeah,” Chester chimed in. “If it’s bad here, it must be really bad in 2049 where he’s from.”

“Oh.” Barry forced himself to sober up. “Yeah, it is. What I mean to say is…Nora, she’s…she’s got thing’s handled, working hard.” He started smiling again. “And she has help!” Chester and Caitlin’s intrigued looks told him he had to sputter some nonsense fast. “From me! Future me, I mean. I’m still the Flash. In 23 years, I’m still…” He trailed off, daydreaming briefly about the things he’d just seen and experienced.

Sensing more questions from the two individuals in front of him however, he forced himself to snap out of it.

“Well, I gotta go! Text me when the Godspeeds return.”

“Wait, where are y-”

But it was no use. Barry had flashed away. There was no calling out to him with the expectation of him hearing and returning unless, as he’d said, the Godspeed clones returned and he was needed to attempt to defeat them.

“Let him be,” Chester said, brushing whatever questions they’d had aside. “He’s clearly happy. It’s been a while since we’ve seen him like that, what with everything going on. In fact, the last time I saw him that happy was-”

Caitlin studied him as he fell silent and avoided eye contact.

“What? When?” she asked.

“N-Nothing. Nevermind.” He powerwalked out into the hallway. “See you upstairs, Caitlin!”

She eyed his disappearing form with suspicion but decided not to push on that either. After a few more moments of contemplation, she followed the path Chester had taken back to the cortex upstairs.

…

When Barry reached the loft shortly thereafter, he was greeted by darkness and silence. It wasn’t alarming enough to dim his buzz though. He was too excited to talk to Iris. He had to remind himself that she wasn’t feeling well and to lower his voice when he talked to her, as well as maybe bring her something to eat and drink. She hadn’t vomited in a couple days, but she was still feeling under the weather. He had to contain his excitement enough to be a devoted, caring husband tending to her in her sickness.

He could do that, definitely.

As quietly as he could manage, he whipped together some chicken noodle soup and crackers and put them on a tray. Walking as stealthily as he could towards the staircase, he made it step by step without spilling the entrée.

Proud of himself for that, he gently kicked their bedroom door open with his foot.

“Iris, I brought you something.”

When he looked up, he was greeted to the sight of her reading in bed. She attempted a small smile when she saw what he was carrying and set her book to the side.

“Hey, Bear,” she said warmly, albeit with a croak to her voice. “What’s all this?”

His heart sank just a little at the sound of her, but it couldn’t quelch all the enthusiasm he had buried just beneath the surface.

He approached the bed, making sure to keep the tray even.

“The Godspeeds are currently not in Central City, at least in our time, so I thought I’d come home and dote on my wife a little.”

“Aww, you’re so sweet.”

She gripped the tray as he set it on her lap.

“And also to tell you that everything with Nora is alright.”

She froze, her hand halfway to the spoon, her other gripping the far side of the tray.

“What do you mean, alright?”

“Well…you know how I had that dream about Nora that made me think…” he trailed off, embarrassed now and not wanting to emotionally wound her like he’d done before.

“Barry,” she said softly.

“Well, I had another one, and it was…Nora was in danger, everything was wrong, I couldn’t breathe…” He shook his head, trying to shake himself of that dream. He had such a wonderful reality to replace it with now, but it was still hard to talk about.

“Why didn’t you tell me?” she asked, gently reaching for his hand.

Slowly, he sat on the side of the bed.

“I didn’t want to worry you,” he admitted. “Plus, I didn’t know if you’d think I was ridiculous for getting upset by it given the last time I dreamed of Nora…well, it came to mean nothing, didn’t it?” He frowned.

Iris closed her eyes and shook her head.

“A nightmare is a nightmare, Barry. They’re upsetting to anyone whether they mean something or not. Remember when Psych infected the whole city with nightmares? Everyone was frightened, and with good reason.”

He nodded.

“Yeah, you’re right. I’m sorry. I should have told you.”

“It’s okay.” She offered a small smile. “You’re okay now it looks like.”

“Oh, yeah,” he assured her, his good mood quickly returning. “Better than okay.”

She managed a small, raspy laugh.

“And why is that?” She scooped up some broth on her spoon and blew on it.

“Well, because I went to the fu…ture.”

Belatedly, he realized that she might not like this bit of news. Especially given their two-seconds-ago talk that he should communicate things to her right away.

He gulped as he watched her lay down her spoon on the side of the bowl and set the tray on his side of the bed. He wondered if he’d still be sleeping there tonight.

“I’m sorry, what did you say?” Her voice was low and even, but her eyes were wild. She was not happy.

“Okay, look, I know I should’ve probably talked to you first.” He sprang up to his feet. “But Dig told me-”

“Dig was here?” she blanched.

His hand went behind his head where he awkwardly scratched.

“Yeah, he showed up with some new tech to use to help in the Godspeed war.”

She looked at him in disbelief.

“We caught one of the Godspeeds, but then he broke out and the tech broke, and I yelled at Chester, and all of this because, well…” He sat back down again. “I couldn’t stop thinking about Nora in those dreams. I was so worried about her, what all of this meant for her time. If there’s so much chaos and destruction right now in Central City, imagine in her time where they’re from. All I wanted to do was go check on her, make sure she was alright.”

“So, that’s what you did, I assume,” Iris said bitterly.

“After Dig talked me into it, yeah.”

“And who else did you tell about your grand adventure?”

Feeling uneasy now, he stood up again.

“I uh…told Cecile.”

“And?”

He swallowed. “And Chester and Caitlin.”

“So, everybody.” Angrily, Iris flung back the covers and forced herself out of bed, heading for the exit as fast as she could get there. “Everybody but me.”

“Iris, wait, please-”

He followed her at normal speed, not wanting to upset her further by jumping ahead of her in under a second.

She stopped suddenly once they got to the first floor.

“Did it ever occur to you, Barry, that this might be a bad idea?”

His eyes widened.

“Of course! It’s why I needed to be talked into it. Dig convinced me that making family my number one priority was the most important thing, more important than being here for when the Godspeeds returned again.”

“I suppose he neglected to mention how it shouldn’t be a decision you make on your own in the end, that you should discuss it with your wife, who I don’t know, maybe would die of happiness seeing her daughter again?” Her voice broke.

Barry’s heart crumbled.

“Iris, you were sick. You’re still sick. Traveling at super speed would’ve made you even more sick. Even if…even if you’re not…”

“Spit it out, Barry. If I’m not what? If I’m not pregnant?”

His eyes dipped down to the floor.

“Maybe it’s a good thing I’m not.”

His eyes flashed to hers.

“What do you mean?”

She closed some of the distance between them, no-nonsense in her tone when she spoke.

“How many times, Barry? How many times are you going to make life-changing decisions without talking to me first? Decisions that involve our children? That could change life as we know it? As they know it? Given your very happy mood when you showed up, I assume all was well in 2049?”

He gulped and nodded.

“Yes.”

“Well, suppose it won’t be after your little visit? And even if it is, Barry…you have to talk to me. It’s important that we’re a team. That’s what I signed up for when I married you, that we would communicate and be a unit in everything we did. I thought you had gotten past doing things rashly, based entirely on your emotions, but-”

“But I didn’t do it based on my emotions! I had to be talked into it, don’t you see? It was Dig that-”

“Oh, shut up about Dig!”

That silenced him.

“You used his advice as an excuse to go ahead and do what you know in your heart you were going to do anyway.”

“Iris.”

“No.” She shook her head and turned away, then stopped and looked back at him. “I thought you were ready. I thought we were ready. And I was excited when you called me a week ago claiming you knew that I was pregnant, only for it to just be based on some wishful thinking dream you had.”

He swallowed hard.

“You’re not ready, Barry. And I don’t know if you ever will be.”

Tears welled in her eyes.

Cautiously, he approached her.

“What are you saying, Iris?”

She took a breath and licked her lips.

“I’m saying I don’t want to try for Nora anymore. Not now, not for a while, maybe not… Maybe not ever.”

His jaw dropped. He couldn’t speak.

She closed her eyes and tears seeped out.

“I’m sorry,” she whispered, her breath hitching. “But right now, I don’t think you’d make a good father.”

Shell-shocked, he took one step back and then froze. Everything inside him came to a standstill. It even felt like his heart had stopped. Memories of meeting adult Nora again and…and her brother, who was apparently such a mama’s boy. To think they might not even exist in the future all because of this conversation right here.

He thought Iris would want to know all about their future children, but now…

“I’m going back upstairs,” she informed him, her tone clipped in the deafening silence of their living room. “Please don’t follow me.”

“Iri-” he tried, but she held up a hand to silence him.

“Don’t.”

Feeling helpless, he let her go up the stairs alone.

The sound of their bedroom door closing was so final that it seemed to echo off all the walls around him. Sensing a collapse was near, he entered the living room further and sat down on the couch, immediately putting his head in his hands and rocking slightly.

One thought clear as day drummed through his mind above all the others.

What have I done?

[rivetwrites]

Maybe korekiyo 🥺 he’s a big comfort character of mine. Also your writing makes me so happy and make sure to not push yourself 😊

//omg!! thank you so much, you’re so sweet!! korekiyo coming up!!

----------------------------------------

Korekiyo Shinguji Fluff Alphabet

A ctivities - What do they like to do with their s/o? How do they spend their free time with them?

Korekiyo isn’t a people person, rather he’d prefer to watch and observe them. Going out to diners or to the park to people watch is what he’d likes to do during his free time. He’d love to have you by his side while he talks about old traditions, or what he thinks about different cultures. 

B eauty - What do they admire about their s/o? What do they think is beautiful about them?

When he says he loves everything about you, he absolutely means it. He finds you just as beautiful as humanity itself, he can’t help to compliment you every time he sees you.

C omfort - How would they help their s/o when they feel down/have a panic attack etc.?

“How could someone as beautiful as you, have so much sorrow?” He would say, pulling you into his chest. He resolves your discomfort with compliments, and they usually work. Wiping your tears with his thumbs, he’d compliment you to no tomorrow. “You’re more beautiful when you’re smiling, darling.”

D reams - How do they picture their future with their s/o?

He wants to get married and have a child with you. He finds families so beautiful, and he wants one for himself. He wants a very, very traditional life with you.

E qual - Are they the dominant one in the relationship, or rather passive?

Very dominant in the relationship. He plans all the dates, gives you all the gifts and love. He doesn’t expect any of it back, but he’s delighted to receive it as well! He’s open minded as well, so he’ll listen to your ideas for dates.

F ight - Would they be easy to forgive their s/o? How are they fighting?

Korekiyo is aloof most of the time, so sometimes he can be hard to approach. Sometimes he’ll ignore you for his studies or work, which can hurt your feelings. He’d notice you’re upset, but he’ll leave you alone for the time being. After awhile, he’ll come by and sit next to you and start apologizing to you. He truly doesn’t mean to ignore you, but he can’t help it sometimes when he’s reading something interesting. Whenever you make him upset, he’ll make it known that he’s upset to you. When you apologize, he’s easily forgiving, knowing that even the most perfect human such as yourself, makes mistakes.

G ratitude - How grateful are they in general? Are they aware of what their s/o is doing for them?

Extremely grateful. You’ve helped him healthily cope with his past, and he’s scarily aware of all of it. He’d thank you relentlessly, giving you more and more flowers, chocolates, gifts, just to show his gratitude. 

H onesty - Do they have secrets they hide from their s/o? Or do they share everything?

The most secrets he’s ever kept from you, is his past. Other than that, he’s pretty open with you. With time, he would start to open up more and more to you. Korekiyo is the master at secrets, so your word will always be safe with him.

I nspiration - Did their s/o change them somehow, or the other way around? Like trying out new things or helped them overcome personal problems?

You’ve definitely helped him with his past, and he’ll forever be grateful for you. He began to be more open with you and his friends, being able to be in control of himself, and being able to start wearing his mask less and less around you.

J ealousy - Do they get jealous easily? How do they deal with it?

No one dares to even start to flirt with you, Korekiyo is always by your side in public. He may be slim, but he’s tall and gave off an unsettling vibe. If anyone ever decided to take the risk, his main goal is to scare him away with his gaze alone. Once you’re back home with him, he wouldn’t bring it up. He trusts you, but he gets pretty silently jealous. You’d have to call him out on it, and he would just chuckle and tell you not to worry about it too much.

K iss - Are they a good kisser? What was the first kiss like?

He’s not the best at kissing, since he always has his mask over his lips, but he likes being kissed! He’s tall, so you would have to settle with his shoulder or hands. On the very rare, intimate occasions, he’ll pull down his mask to kiss your lips lightly, leaving a slight lipstick smudge.

L ove Confession - How would they confess to their s/o?

When Korekiyo loves someone, he will let them know. He’d observe first, to see if you return his feelings, which wouldn’t take long. Once he’s positive you will accept him, he’ll take his bandaged hands into yours as he confesses his feelings to you. When you accept, you can see his eyes scrunch slightly from smiling as he pulls you into a hug.

M arriage - Do they want to get married? How do they propose? What would the marriage be like?

Yes!! He wants to have a very traditional wedding, as he finds it so beautiful. He’d invite his friends, since he doesn’t have the greatest relationship with his family. But your family is his family too! So he’s not complaining. He would love it to be as traditional as possible, possibly Japanese tradition. But if you want some other tradition, he wouldn’t complain either.

N icknames - What do they call their s/o?

“My beautiful human,” or, “darling.” Anything more formal will do as well. He loves calling you beautiful, since you absolutely deserve to hear it all the time.

O n Cloud Nine - What are they like when they are in love? Is it obvious for others? How do they express their feelings?

On the rare moments, he’d fully remove his mask to pepper your face in kisses, leaving nothing untouched. He’d whisper in your ear on how beautiful you are, and how much he loves you. Don’t plan on leaving anytime soon, he’ll be gripping onto you for hours.

P DA - Are they upfront about their relationship? Do they brag with their s/o in front of others? Or are they rather shy to kiss etc. when others are watching?

He’d prefer to keep affection behind closed doors, but he wouldn’t mind giving you masked kisses to your forehead and hand. He does gloat slightly, telling his friends on how beautiful you are, and how lucky he is to have such an amazing S/O.

Q uirk - Some random ability they have that’s beneficial in a relationship.

Korekiyo is extremely patient with you, so feel free to say your problems with him. He thinks logically, so giving advice would be a great perk with him! He’s also open minded with your interests, as he has a few strange interests himself.

R omance - How romantic are they? What would they do to make their s/o happy? Cliché or rather creative?

Very cliche. He’d give you flowers that have specific meanings, homemade chocolate, traditional dates, the whole shebang. He has no shame at his cheesiness, and he sees no reason for you to be either. Sometimes he’ll surprise you with a small gift every once and awhile, usually a small sculpture, which he proceeds to tell you the entire history behind it.

S upport - Are they helping their s/o achieve their goals? Do they believe in them?

Absolutely, though he would less help you, and more observe you try to achieve them. Seeing you so determined makes you look so beautiful and he can’t help to watch.

T hrill - Do they need to try out new things to spice out your relationship? Or do they prefer a certain routine?

Not a thrill seeker at all, though he would like to take you on a bunch of dates. He loves taking you on different kind of dates that are common in other cultures, but he’d prefer to have more secluded dates with you.

U nderstanding - How good do they know their partner? Are they empathetic?

Korekiyo has a hard time with his own emotions, so he wouldn’t be as empathetic as he would like to be. Knowing you, however, he can detect the smallest change in your mood. He’s extremely observant, so he would sit you down and let you talk about your feelings whenever you need to.

V alue - How important is the relationship to them? What is it’s worth in comparison to other things in their life?

More than humanity itself. You’re his beautiful human, and he’ll keep you safe in his warm grasp. Of course, he cared about other things, but you’ll alwyas be his number one.

W ild Card - A random Fluff Headcanon.

Every now and again, once you two have free time together, he’d sit you down on the bed and start complimenting every part of you. He makes sure none of you is left unloved. It’s the rare moment where he would pull down his mask to kiss your hands and arms. 

X OXO - Are they very affectionate? Do they love to kiss and cuddle?

He’s not the best at receiving affection, but he loves giving it! Kiyo would pepper your face in small, masked kisses as he holds you in his lanky arms. Though, he’d get pretty awkward when you give him your own kisses, but he wouldn’t complain.

Y earning - How will they cope when they’re missing their partner?

He’d bury himself in his book and work. He’s not too good at coping with missing you, so he’d do his best to distract himself. Once you come back, he’d silently slink over to you, wrapping his long arms around your waist as he presses his masked lips to your temple, telling you how much he missed you.

Z eal - Are they willing to go to great lengths for the relationship? If so, what kind of?

He’ll do anything for you. He loves you with his entire being, so he’ll do everything to make you happy.

[douxspider]

— 𝐩𝐫𝐨𝐦𝐢𝐬𝐞 𝐦𝐞 𝐚 𝐬𝐞𝐜𝐨𝐧𝐝 𝐭𝐢𝐦𝐞. (3)

‘ARVIN RUSSELL x READER INSERT’

( spoilers for “the devil all the time” ) — Waking up at Reader's place, we finally get a glimpse at Arvin's POV. Though, while their relationship seems to be moving forward, it seems like the whole 'running away into the sunset' deal only happens in fiction.

+ this is the third part to peachy keen! (ao3 link)

warnings: angst, almost smutty but nothing explicit is written, mentions of murder, preston teagardin lmao, rated mature word count: 4,244 published: 9/24/20 ao3 link — part 1, 2

— — • — — 

When Arvin woke up leaned against you, he felt his face turn into a beet shade of red. Slowly parting from your leaning form on the couch, he rubbed his eye, unaware that he had an actual decent rest in such a cramped position. He hardly ever felt comfortable enough to sleep in his own bed. Usually, attempts at sleep were mostly met with staring at the ceiling blankly, recalling haunting memories on repeat in his head.

His thoughts were blank when he fell asleep. Arvin was met with nothing but the television’s staticy audio and the sound of your quiet breathing.

He looked over to take in your features— what amazing features, he thought— and found his hand carefully creeping to the side of your face to brush the knuckle of a finger near your ear, tucking a strand of hair behind it lovingly.

Arvin loved you.

He knew he shouldn’t— he knew he had no idea what love was— but within the few months spent together, Arvin knew he liked you too much to be calling it ‘liking’ and ‘platonic’.

That one stormy evening alongside memories of beating the hell out of Lenora’s bullies, blood and bruising splattering his knuckles like paint, he needed a place to clear his head. He needed a place that was quiet in every way shape and form. Arvin had been driving with a foggy haze before his eyes had locked onto McCann Boys. Arvin wasn’t hungry. He wasn’t anything, he just needed to sit somewhere other than a damn car where he could swerve into a building and die.

When he stepped in, the immediate smell of sweetness overloaded his senses, and he found himself hesitantly sitting down in a booth, wringing the cloth against his knuckles in a patterned fashion.

Then you approached.

And by God, had you been the prettiest sight to see. If it were on any other day, Arvin would’ve been sure to come up with better words than asking if he had to buy anything.

That’s not how you talk to a pretty face, his father would scold in his head, y’wanna smile at ‘er, and make her feel all sorts of butterflies. Y’gotta make her feel like the only girl in the world, son.

Arvin often had his father’s coaching in his head when it came to things like this. Though, it didn’t really make sense most of the time. His father didn’t live long enough to meet Arvin in his ‘girl phase’. This was more than a phase, he promised himself, looking at your resting form. And my, had the universe been so forgiving of him, making sunlight drawing from blinds rest on your features, highlighting your skin and making you look like a pure, unadulterated angel.

He wanted you.

Arvin bit his bottom lip. He wanted you so bad. He wanted to keep you forever. He wanted to take you away from this lowly place in Ohio and bring you somewhere nice, somewhere with beaches and sunshine, away from disgusting preachers, dried blood and judgmental eyes.

Realizing the first time you went to that church, Arvin could see the way that no-good priest looked at you. He knew what that man did to Lenora. He knew everything. Arvin got up from the couch, his fists turning stark white as he paced towards the apartment door, red building at the sides of his eyes. Arvin had to protect all the girls in town. He had to. For Lenora, for Y/N. He had to go and—

“Arvin?”

Hearing a voice that reminded him of bells, Arvin turned around, seeing you slowly rise up from the couch and looking over to make contact with him. “Where are you going?”

Your sleepy tone was so amiable. Your eyes were so dazed, blinking as you gave a small sniffle, scratching at your shoulder.

“I was…” Arvin trailed off before coming back towards you, kneeling in front of the couch and giving a smile as he took your hand. “I was gonna get you breakfast. As a thank you.” A lie, but it was fine. He was planning on watching the priest. Though, breakfast didn’t sound too bad. Time with you was worth more than anything else. You were all he had, next to his grandmother and uncle.

You smiled. He melted a little inside.

“You don’t need to get me anything,” you murmured as you clutched onto his hand. Your eyes were studious, flitting around his body, and he suddenly felt small. “Are you okay? I’m sorry about the sleeping stuff… if your neck was stiff, I mean, I’d feel bad—”

“Y/N,” Arvin spoke sternly, “that was the best sleep I’ve ever had in my life.”

Your eyes turned round, diluting slightly once they met the sunlight.

Arvin could hear his father’s berating tone in the back of his head. Say it. Be a man. He looked at the ground, holding onto your hand for dear life, uneasily balancing his weight on his knee. Though, Arvin couldn’t say anything. Nothing was coming out. There you were, waiting so patiently, being so patient with him, and he was at a lack for words.

Words wouldn’t fix this. Only action. Action would fix everything, Arvin knew this. He was taught this. He was always better physically expressing his thoughts and feelings than vocally or emotionally.

Releasing one of his hands from yours, he curved one underneath your palm and pulled your soft, untouched knuckles against his lips, giving a kiss. These knuckles have never hurt a soul. This being had never hurt anyone. Arvin would make sure it would stay that way.

He glanced upwards, his cap altering his view slightly, and he could make out the way your cheeks turned a different shade, inviting lips gaping slightly.

Smiling against your skin, Arvin moved his free hand to the top of yours and gazed at you. To his surprise, he watched as your thumb rolled circles against his own. You were smiling, and it was a smile to take in. Oh, it was.

“You’re sweet, Arvin,” you giggled so beautifully and he wanted to listen to his name coming out of your mouth on repeat, “...I kinda want donuts.”

Arvin couldn’t help but give a laugh under his breath at the change of moods. He stood up, continuously holding your hand as he refused to let it go, and said, “Let’s get donuts, then.”

—

He was angry. He was a pot boiling. Staring at Preston from afar, he watched from his car as the man interacted with a female shopowner who was fresh out of highschool. Arvin’s leg bounced within his vehicle, the sun setting, and he continued to survey.

Preston would interact with girls other than his wife. He would bring girls into his car and do unspeakable, unlawful things with them, then proceed to go back to the place he calls home and force himself onto his wife.

Arvin clutched onto the wheel.

While Preston was a horrible man who deserved the worst punishment from all graces of any lord, he found himself growing frustrated. Not even just about Lenora or all the sweet innocence the man took, Arvin found himself growing frustrated at his own damn self.

He would think about Y/N.

No, not doing such acts as those forcefully, imagining the same power dynamic, he would never. He meant it when he said he didn’t hurt girls. Arvin despised the man. He despised him and he wanted him gone. He wanted that man to suffer for what he did to his sister. Though, at points, he would drive up to your apartment and stare at the window that belonged to you. He would lick his chapped lips and his hand would shake as it reached the door handle. Then, Arvin would grow a clear sense of mind, he would receive clarity, and he would drive to the opposite side of town just to avoid even thinking about touching you in such a passionate way.

After a few days, Arvin decided.

He’d have to leave you behind.

He loved you, but he also loved Lenora, and Lenora deserved justice. Arvin could hear her voice already, pleading for him to let it go. To just let the man be. To leave. Do anything else. Settle down with you somewhere far, far away, start a life, start a family. Be free.

“I ain’t ever let anything go, ‘Nora.”

The priest was dead.

Arvin’s blood rushed through his veins as the sun set on the horizon, him zooming through the city streets, eagerly approaching your apartment.

God, it was a thrill. The adrenaline coursing through his veins after watching the damned predator fall onto the church floor bleeding from his wounds was cathartic. It made Arvin’s head whirl and turn dizzy. He had no moral thoughts, he was no longer moral, no longer a man that could be forgiven. Arvin felt the rage that built up within him for years be released with three gunshots, the guilt and agony of being alone and misjudged by any person left behind within the church.

Sitting in the car and hearing the blinker click at him, he turned it off once pulling into the lot. He took off his cap, carding his fingers through his hair, debating if he was really going to let you go.

Y/N offered a future he couldn’t take. It hurt more than anything.

Arvin glanced up at your patio, seeing you move from behind the window. You were only a silhouette. You were yet to be discovered by him in this manner, this new Arvin Russell. You wouldn’t recognize him, he thought, he wouldn’t recognize you.

It would be a completely different take on his life. He was no longer himself. Was he better, or worse? Was he a criminal, or a vigilante? Arvin didn’t know what to do. It hadn’t set in yet that he was no longer only capable of beating bullies shitless. He was so much more than that. He was more.

Arvin could do anything.

It was dark out. He finally found the courage to yank open the door handle and step out of his car. He didn’t bother to lock it, he had nothing to lose.

Entering the apartment’s doors, smelling various spices of cooking or hearing children laughing from very muffled walls, Arvin found himself stomping up the steps, his heart beating against his ribs uneasily.

Staring at the room, noticing that the others around were vacant, Arvin could just about do anything. No one would know.

He clenched his fists a few times before finally knocking on the door with his knuckles. It was like the first time you two had met, his very knuckles expressing his pain and anguish, and you read onto the signs of a lonely man seeking solace. Arvin was still bruised and broken; just not in any place where you could see it.

You opened the door, and your mouth opened before closing abruptly. Arvin knew he must’ve looked like he just killed someone. Well, he did, but you didn’t know about that.

Arvin wanted you. Though, he’d be careful, you were the one delicate thing in his life. He had to treat you with care. He had to treat you so gently this night, for it would be your last with him.

Taking a step inside, he moved his hand up and cupped your cheek, moving his thumb— once holding a gun used to kill— so that it wiped gingerly beneath your bottom lip. Your jaw fidgeted slightly as you were attempting to find words. Though, your hand didn’t disagree with his actions. Instead, it met the back of his palm, planted gently on top of his own hand that held your cheek.

Confident, Arvin moved in closer and pulled you towards him, meeting your lips with his. You made a soft noise in your throat and it set Arvin’s mind on fire. Flames danced between your faces, and he felt you eagerly kiss back, your arms snaking across his shoulders as he found himself kicking the door with the back of his heel to close it shut.

Your hands found themselves on the surface of his head and pushing off his cap to knot fingers in his hair. Arvin didn’t even care. His body was burning underneath your touch as he found himself pressing you against the nearest flat surface, which was your dining room table that held a vase with hand picked flowers resting inside and a sweet floral mat keeping it level. You were so adorable, he swooned in his head, you were so precious to him and oh so good. You’re so good.

Wife material, Arvin’s head was screaming, he wanted to steal you away and marry you. You were lifted onto the mahogany table, Arvin’s tongue swiping at your bottom lip. You were so good, submitting your mouth to him, letting him roam the inside and clutch onto your hips so tightly it could bruise. Feeling your soft, untouched, blessed hands clutch onto his belt line had him push his pelvis closer to yours.

“Arvin—” you attempted, but he wouldn’t let you. No, he wouldn’t let you worry. You didn’t need to worry about anything, not with him around. He was your protector, he would keep you safe, he wouldn’t let you die or leave. He wouldn’t let you be hurt by anyone. Thinking about keeping you close to him in his arms, just this close, making you sigh from pleasure as Arvin plastered kisses down your jaw and to your neck to test the waters of what made you quiver; it was enough to drive him insane.

He found his teeth scraping at your flesh and you gasped, arching your body upwards and he felt your hips grind against his middle. It made him give out a guttural growl of need.

“Arvin, wait— wait, honey, stop—”

Arvin didn’t want to. Though, he would, just for your sake. He lifted his head up to meet yours, and once you made eye contact with him, your expression changed from flustered to concerned. Nurturing. Your hand met his cheek, your thumb gently rubbing itself underneath his eye, and he moved a hand to hold your wrist and gently kiss your palm.

Your voice was so soft, so sweet, as if you raised it any further it would blow Arvin away. “What’s going on?”

He wanted to tell you everything. You were so kind, you were everything, you were the sun and stars and sky. Nuzzling into your hand, he murmured, “Nothin’...”

“It’s clearly something if you come into my apartment and start kissing me like this, Russell,” you spoke, his last name strong in your city accent. Your voice was so stern, so dead set on uncovering him, and Arvin gazed at you, still high from revenge and loving you.

He hesitated. Arvin pinched his lips together, licking them faintly, still tasting your lip scrub on them.

Your warm hands met his burning face, handling them so sweetly. “You don’t need to give me specifics,” you started, “...just give me something, Arvin, so I know you’re in your right mind.”

Your name made his eyes flutter shut, nudging his nose against yours. “Say m’name like that again, sweet girl…”

“Arvin.” Your tone was more of a warning. It pulled him back from the sea of desire.

Arvin sighed, mumbling, “I had a revelation, darlin’…” his thumb rolled circles into your wrist, “I had a good day… ‘m a free man, Y/N. I wanna share this with you.” He opened his eyes to see you gazing at him so sweetly. “Let me have this night with you, pretty girl. I wanna make you feel as good as me. I’m sober, I promise, ‘m just intoxicated by the thought of you.”

“Such a flirt,” you whispered against his lips, and he felt himself smirking.

“Only for you.”

Your beautiful, reflective eyes stared into his. Then, they shut, and you moved your head forward to slowly encapture his lips. Arvin was more than eager to requite this. Fervor filled his loins as he clutched your thigh once it was squeezing against his side.

“Sweet baby girl,” he whispered into your ear, “Can we move this to your bed?”

—

When Arvin woke up, he had never felt more exhausted. He was hit with a newfound clarity. There was a soft gray shade leaking from the windows, and he squinted at the clock from across the room— wiping the fogginess from his eyes— and took notice that it was in the early hours of five a.m. Arvin went to move, but was barricaded by something clinging to his side.

His eyes were round as saucers as he took a hold of your nude bodies entangled.

Flushed, he quickly whipped his head back ahead, staring at the ceiling.

The confidence he had last night was almost embarrassing. Though, he licked his teeth and looked back to you, his fingers carding through your hair. Your hair was so soft to the touch, so perfect for someone like you, never missing the latest trends.

Arvin gave a hum of contentment, taking in your features in the early morning. Last night was full of unbridled desire, a fervor that the both of you had been bottling up for who knows how long. Perhaps, since that rainy day in the bakery, there had been that weird spark that compelled you both to do this.

He buried his nose in your sweet scented hair, pressing his lips against your warm forehead, hearing you shuffle and murmur under your breath. You were still very much asleep.

Taking in your sleeping face for the last time, Arvin gave a pained smile. He didn’t want to leave you at all. He wanted to keep you forever— he wanted to wake up to this every day— but he couldn’t let you become an accomplice. Arvin had to protect you.

With that, he managed to sneak his way out of your koala arms and legs and get dressed in his old clothing. Reading over the letter he wrote yesterday, Arvin felt his heart break with each word. You didn’t deserve this. You deserved better than him— someone who could keep themselves together, who wasn’t so haunted by the past. You came to this city to escape yours, and he couldn’t drag you into his. He had to escape too. Some part of him knew you would understand that with time.

Arvin had stopped by a bakery quickly, ordering a lemon and poppyseed muffin with the most bittersweet feeling, coming back to your room to see you were still dead asleep.

He placed the muffin box down on the nightstand and folded the letter so that it stood up with your name on a proud display. Arvin’s hand wringed its way through his hair before he stared at his ragged blue cap for a moment, placing it alongside the muffin and letter.

Arvin leaned down to kiss you on the lips briefly, you giving a sleepy hum, pursuing your lips lazily before drifting unconscious again. He noticed that the sun was just rising.

The sunset brought a bit of hope. He watched you sleep for a bit, the purple turning into a golden on your features, before he made his exit.

—

Your body felt like jello. Giving a groan, your hands scavenged the sheets for the warm body that accompanied you that night, but you were left with a cold absence. Cracking your eyes open and grunting at the shine of the sun, the clock spoke nine a.m, and you were surprised Arvin was not with you.

You licked your lips and sat up. Stretching your spine, you noticed you were nude and blushed, pulling the sheets up your chest. “Arvin?” You called, noticing the lack of your friend— lover? Boyfriend? Friend with benefits?— and gave a long exhale. Luckily you had the day off, as convenient as that was.

Looking over, you noticed the hat, muffin box, and letter. Your name was in bold pencil, and you tilted your head curiously before leaning over and peering through the plastic cover. You smiled and saw the dark spots of poppyseeds on the treat. It was sentimental, and your heart nearly burst.

Gazing at the hat, you were inquiring if he just managed to leave it behind.

You decided to take the letter, opening it up and not preparing for what you’d read.

Y/N,

You’re probably wondering where I am right now. I am too. If you asked me right now, I wouldn’t be able to give you an answer.

I did something that can’t be forgiven. Maybe not by the Lord, definitely not by law, uncertain by you. I don’t want you to worry. I’m safe. I can’t come back. I can’t give you a number or address. I don’t know where I’m going, I don’t know who I will be.

The world ain’t been kind. I know it ain’t been kind to you either. I don’t want to make things even worse for you, sweet girl. You’re everything I didn’t deserve. You said to me a long time ago that I deserve good, but I don’t. You are such a good girl, so much so I can’t have you. A part of me wants to be selfish and keep you. I know I can’t. I can’t do that to you.

You’re gonna hear about that preacher man. You’re gonna hear things about me, probably. I just want you to know I did it because I had to. You need to know that. I couldn’t be alive knowing Lenora wasn’t and he was. I’m sorry, baby.

I’m sorry for leaving you. I don’t want to. There’s nothing I want more than for you to be with me right now, pretty girl. I’d give everything just to see you every morning, every afternoon, every night. Ever since that day where you forgave me for the first time for my sins, smoking and drinking black coffee, I know what else I could fight for. I know what I could have just for myself. The sad part is, God is a sadist, and he won’t let me have you.

You asked me if I like Puppy Love, and I do. I’m listening to music for once as I write this, and I understand all the stuff they cry about on the radio. I know what it means to love. My heart ain’t ever been this broke before, sweetheart. 

I love you, Y/N.

As I said, we’ll be seeing each other again. Look out for postcards from my initials.

A.R.

When you finished, wet spots had been dotting the paper, and the last two initials were the final nail in the coffin. You let out a choked sob, leaning over to clutch onto the paper close to your chest. You collapsed onto the sheets, weeping, unable to comprehend. You kept asking why, why, why, even though it was right in front of you.

You flipped the page, noting the sweet lyrics on the back.

I cry each night, my tears are for you, my tears are all in vain, I hope, I hope and I pray, that maybe someday, you’ll be back in my arms once again.

Sniffling and wiping at your nose, you gave a few sobs, pressing your palm against your damp cheeks until they turned red.

You folded the paper and placed it back on your nightstand, curling in on yourself, clutching your sheets that still had Arvin’s presence lingering on them. Pressing them against your wet, hot face, you gave a few soft wheezes.

How could you tell Arvin you loved him, too? How could you write back to him? How could you sleep at night, not knowing he was okay? That there was no way you could tell him you’d wait forever for him?

You must’ve managed to doze off, as the sun was no longer as golden as before. The skies were a clear blue, and you managed to tug on tolerable clothes. Standing on your patio, you clutched the metal railings, staring down at the town with dismay. He was no longer here. This town no longer held that charming spark that you’d learn to love.

Walking back inside, you gazed at the letter, muffin, and hat. Leaning over, you grabbed the blue cap and rubbed your thumbs against the torn fabric, pressing the lid against your lips and kissing it. At least you had this— something you rarely saw him without. He gave you this, and your heart soared at the thought. Placing it on the top of your head, you took the lemon and poppyseed muffin and headed towards McCann Boys.

Marilyn perked at your presence, speaking, “Sweetpea, it’s not your workday.”

“I’m here as a guest,” you murmured, gazing at her, and Marilyn’s eyebrows rose at your expression. She gave a sorry nod at you, continuing to swipe down the counters.

You sat in the booth you and Arvin met at, and you took your seat, gazing at the ashtray emptily. Picking at the muffin, you fixed your cap to hide your face.

The radio near the coffee player began to sing. Your heart dropped, and you recalled the oh-so familiar lyrics.

...This is not a puppy love.

[nuclear-clusterhug]

You've been talking in your sleep (you've been having real bad dreams)

pairing: Karl Jacobs/Sapnap

word count: 1392

angst, hurt/comfort, kinda fluff?

summary: Just give me a reason by P!nk feat. Nate Ruess. thats it.

note: i havent written anything other than essays in english, it's not my first language, and i havent written fanfiction in 6 years, let me know my mistakes :)

It was late at night when he started to hear it. The voice of his boyfriend rang in his head, saying things he never heard before.

''I'm so tired of always trying to make you feel better'' he heard. He felt the arms around his waist tighten and he froze. Nick. He must've been talking in his sleep.

Karl didn't know what to think of it. His boyfriend, his one and only, the person he trusted the most in life just accidentally told him he was tired of him. Was he really that hard to handle? Sure he had his problems, the ghosts of past relationships hanging around him made it hard for the two boys to even start their own, but Karl genuinely thought he was getting better. He was communicating better, he was generous with physical affection, he tried to always be there for the other, he couldn't help it if his self-consciousness sometimes got in the way of that.

Karl tried to make sense of it all, but sleep sucked him back in before he could form his next coherent thought.

From that night on, Karl tried his best not to show Nick when he was feeling down. He tried to be as good for him as possible, in fear that if he got too vulnerable, Nick would get fed up and lash out. Every night he would turn his back to Nick as a silent offer for spooning, but also so that the other wouldn't see the tears that might slip out of Karl's grey eyes. But every night, he would hear Nick say something in his sleep. Sometimes just venomous mumbling, sometimes real words about how Nick felt like he was used for emotional support and not a real partner. Karl wondered why Nick hadn't said anything about it when they were both awake, he never seemed to be bothered about Karl's worries before, but all frustration needed an outlet, he supposed.

''Baby, are you okay?'' Nick asked a few days later while they were hanging around on the couch, both clanking away on their laptops. Karl was in a particularly bad mood, the things he heard at night eating away at his wide awake brain made him lose focus and have to restart his work for the second time. He felt like however hard he tried to be good for Nick, the other just saw him as a burden, and messing work up didn't help the feeling of uselessness.

''Yeah, just tired'' he tried for a smile but it came out more as a pout.

''I don't doubt that. You've been restless for the past few nights'' Nick put his laptop on the coffee table and turned to Karl with his whole body. ''Have you been having nightmares?'' he asked, concern clear in his voice.

''You could say that'' Karl murmured and tried to turn his attention back to his screen, trying to ignore the conversation the other attempted to have with him.

''What do you mean? You've been tossing around, and then suddenly freezing each night. Something must be going on'' Nick moved closer to him on the couch, hand moving to his back, but Karl jerked away involuntarily.

''I don't want to talk about it'' he said quietly, moving to stand up and try to leave the room, but Nick stopped him with a careful hand on his forearm and pulled him back down. Nick took his laptop and put it next to his so they could both sit with their legs up, body turned to the other.

''Too bad. You need your rest if you wanna keep up with your work flow. I want to help you, but you haven't talked to me properly in days. I thought you were just working up to saying it, or I don't even know, but you avoid my eyes every time I look at you, you turn away in bed, and even now you're avoiding it. Avoiding me!'' Karl could see Nick was desperately trying to keep his cool to not scare him away and he appreciated the calm tone but it didn't really work.

''Why would you want to help me?'' Karl jumped up and walked to the other side of the room.

''Why would I not? Your work is important to you, and you are important to me! I care about your physical well-being as much as your emotional!'' Nick tried to reason with him, but Karl wasn't having it.

''You? You care about my emotions? Take a fucking hike!'' Karl finally snapped. This was it, the dam broke, everything was going to come out. Nick braced himself, he knew he had to listen to everything very carefully, because Karl couldn't always express himself when he got too worked up, but Nick has learned to read between the lines. ''You talk in your sleep! Did you know that? You say some real weird shit sometimes! Talk about how I haven't talked to you in days, when you only speak your mind when you're asleep! If you're so tired of trying to fix me then why are you even here anymore? Sincerely, thank you for fixing my heart, but if I'm such a burden to you, then just leave! See if I care!'' Karl was fuming, which didn't happen often, but Nick couldn't really focus on Karl's tears and red cheeks as he was still stuck on Karl's words.

''What do you mean I talk in my sleep?'' he asked, choking back his frustration.

''You said-''

''No!'' Nick interrupted. ''What do you mean I talk in my sleep when I haven't slept a single minute the past few nights? You've been tossing and turning and silently crying, and wouldn't wake up however loud I called your name, so I tried to hug you as close as possible so you wouldn't hurt yourself! When would have I had the time to talk in my sleep?'' Nick was close to shouting, but he had the mind to stop himself from getting too loud in case Karl would react poorly to the volume.

Karl couldn't say anything. Looking at Nick he noticed the dark circles under his red rimmed eyes, and thinking back he remembered Nick drinking copious amounts of coffee. Nick didn't drink coffee normally. That could only mean one thing.

''So you said them while you were awake?'' Karl looked like a crazy scientist in a movie, lightbulb above his head and a franctic look in his eyes. ''You said those things to me while I was asleep so you didn't have to face me?'' His voice got lower and lower as his heart broke all that much more.

''What?'' Nick was taken aback. ''What the hell are you talking about?'' He had no idea how Karl came to that conclusion, but frankly, didn't even want to find out. He shook his head. ''No. What I'm getting at is that you might have dreamed it. All of it, probably, because I swear on everything that is holy that I have not said anything about you being a burden. Seriously'' Nick started to approach Karl and held out his hand so that the taller boy had the option of getting closer or staying away.

Karl placed a tentative hand in Nick's, but didn't move otherwise.

''I- I don't understand'' Karl shook his head slightly. ''But- I hear your voice. Every night.''

''I might do actually talk to you while you're asleep'' Nick said sheepishly, scratching st the back of his neck with his free hand. ''I couldn't tell you how much I love you and miss you these past days and I needed you to hear it, even if you were unconscious'' he confessed. ''I guess the message got lost in the in-between.''

''Oh'' Karl felt his cheeks heat up as he moved his eyes to the carpet of their livingroom.

''Yeah'' Nick said dumbly as he squeezed Karl's hand a bit.

''Could you- Um- Could you tell me now?'' Karl asked softly, eyes catching Nick's.

''I would love to'' Nick sighed in relief and led his boyfriend to their bedroom, lying down facing each other, cuddling for real for the first time in days.

Karl might have fallen asleep midway through the confession, but he didn't have any more doubts about his place in Nick's heart.