#IT REALLY IS MY BIRTHDAY (it's one day after my birthday)

[highvern]

Red Card

Pairing: Kim Mingyu x f!reader

Genre: smut/fluff, non-idol au, 80s au (aesthetics only), childhood friends to lovers

Warnings: drinking, weed use (not reader tho), skinny dipping, non-graphic injuries (sprained knee), mingyu gets a booboo and reader kisses it better, oral (m & f receiving), face sitting, penetrative sex, protected sex. all of em's biases in one fic

Length: ~12k

Note: HAPPY BIRTHDAY TO THE WIND BENEATH MY WINGS MS @gyuswhore EVERYONE TELL HER HAPPY BIRTHDAY thank you for dealing with all my tomfoolery on a daily basis. i hope this is a nice treat after the trenches of academia. thank you @haologram and @tomodachiii for beta reading!

Summary: Mingyu's been there through everything. From childhood to now. What happens when he gets hurt and someone else has to step in and play the hero?

m.list

This blog is intended for 18+ only! Minors/blank blogs will be blocked.

You’re going to kill your roommate.

Maybe not this second, when you’re still waking up and the sun has barely started to filter through the blinds and the alarm clock is blaring in your ear. It’s difficult to strangle someone when he’s smothering you with his entire body weight, completely unaware of the fact you can’t breathe because of it.  There's heat and then there's sweating out of your skin because your roommate doesn’t understand ‘what’s mine is yours’ only extends to the food in the fridge.

You’ll strangle Mingyu one day, but right now you’re late for work. 

“Get off!” you fume, pushing at his shoulder with all your strength. 

Mingyu smacks his lips sleepily and burrows further into your neck. You pinch his nipple between your finger and twist.

“Ow! What the fuck?” he screams, shuffling off you and into the wall, eyes wild and clutching his chest like a scandalized old woman

Rolling off the mattress, you navigate the dark of your room looking for your work clothes. “How many times have I told you not to sleep in here?”

“My room is so hot!” Mingyu whines, digging his face into the pillow.

“Yeah, well now my room is too.” You find the floral green and pink dress of your Pier Club uniform. Facing away from Mingyu, you swiftly change into it and look for the matching skirt. It’s offensive, even in the dim predawn. “Do you have work today?”

Mingyu stuffs himself further beneath the blankets, only the very center of his face visible. “Yeah. Covering for JJ.”

“Get up then. We’re gonna be late.”

Mingyu scrambles to his room to get dressed. The bathroom is wedged between his room and Soonyoung's, so you hear a thud, and a curse followed by another louder thud and a grunt of pain. He joins you in the bathroom, dressed in his uniform: pink polo, white pants, and white golf shoes. Like an incredibly tall and sleepy flamingo.

Two people becomes four in a blink, each of you reaching over and under for whatever is needed from the small shelf in the mirror. Your elbow meets Dokyeom’s eye, and someone steps on your foot. 

Soonyoung is pouring coffee into a mug in the kitchen, foot tapping against the linoleum while Dokyeom rushes around trying to find his pants. You’ve lived like this for two years. It doesn’t even phase you.

“If you’re not in the truck in five you’re walking!” Mingyu calls and disappears.

One by one you file out. You detour for the kitchen. The toaster takes two minutes and the coffee pot four but you’re still faster than the other two and get an actual seat in the cab of the truck. There's really no decent way to get in and out of a truck in a skirt anyway so you take the small blessing that comes in the form of cracked leather seats and a door you have to roll down the window to open from the outside.

Dokyeom chases the green Ford down the driveway six minutes later and Mingyu slows down enough for him to hop into the flatbed next to Soonyoung. You’re only two minutes late in the end.

The club is packed with guests all day. By the time dinner service is over and you’ve counted your tips, all you want is to go home and pass out but it’s Seungcheol’s birthday. Despite what he explicitly asked everyone for (an Atari 7800), there’s a bonfire at the beach and if Mingyu is there then you are too. Someone has to pile him and the other boys into the bed of his truck and get them home.

The private section of the beach reserved for locals only is packed. Someone blasts a Bowie track, drunk party goers dancing around the massive bonfire while others relax on logs or sit in the sand and watch. A few people stroll down by the water, splashing through the shallows in the dark.

You stay planted in one of the few real chairs, sipping on a beer while your roommates do who knows what. It’s not that you don’t like parties; but your feet hurt and more than a few people stiffed you today so you’re tired. And now, after a few drinks you’re tired and drunk. But no one is ready to leave so it’s either wait or walk and the five miles back to the house is daunting enough you stay firmly planted.

“Ooo, got any more of those for me?” Jeonghan plants himself in the sand next to you, reaching for the cooler.

You slam the lid down on his hand and pull it out of his reach. “Fuck off, you still owe me for last time.”

He tries cozying up to you; pretending the arm around your shoulder is meant as a sweet hug and not a means to get his hand back in the ice box behind you. “Look, I didn’t drink your vodka. But if I did, it tasted like shit.”

“I’m not talking about the vodka, I’m talking about when you fucked some bimbo in my bed!”

He’s already drunk on someone else’s booze; Seungcheol’s no doubt.  

“Oh. That.” Jeonghan scratched the back of his neck. “Listen, it was a big misunderstanding.”

“What misunderstanding? Your dick couldn’t stay in your pants for three more feet to fuck in Soonyoung’s room?”

Jeonghan balks, eyes glazed in the fire light. “Have you tried having sex on a waterbed? It’s not easy.”

Mingyu, as always, is honed in on your bad mood and comes up the beach smiling, hair a mess in the wind. You don’t stare and focus on slapping Jeonghan’s hands away. “Everything okay?”

“I’m gonna kill Jeonghan,” you mumble. 

“I asked her for a beer.”

Mingyu arches a brow. “Didn’t you fuck some girl in her bed last time we had a party?”

“You’re focusing on the wrong thing. She is drunk and acting like the beer czar. Where is the hospitality?”

“If I give you one will you leave?”

“Yes,” Jeonghan responds immediately.

Mingyu passes him two beers and snaps the cooler shut before the older man can get greedy. Jeonghan salutes Mingyu and then sticks his tongue out at you before leaving for the other side of the fire.

“Eat shit and die!” you call. You love Jeonghan but he’s got a way of grating on your last never. Especially after the girl he hooked up with stained your sheets with fake tan even if he offered to buy you a new bed and sheets.

Jeonghan waves the hand full of beers over his head. “Eat shit and live!”

“Alright, let’s get you home,” Mingyu chuckles. 

In his truck, the radio hums one of his fifty million cassettes. He only breaks the comfy lull at a deserted intersection. “One to ten, how mad would you be if we took a detour?”

“At least five, but it depends on where.” You eye him sceptically. Truly, all you want is to get home, shower, and sleep. But Mingyu had a way of convincing you to go along with whatever plan he’d cooked up.

“Chocolate shakes at Joe’s and then the lookout.”

It’s hard saying no to that. Even harder when Mingyu stares at you like a hopeful puppy. 

Your eyes roll. “Okay, maybe like a two.”

“I’ll get you chili cheese fries.”

“Negative one.”

Mingyu turns right, humming along to the next song the entire way to the drive in diner. Your eyes are heavier each minute but greasy food sounds fantastic and your grumbling stomach keeps you from falling asleep against the door. 

Joe’s sits in all its neon glory, like a little beacon of light in the otherwise quiet beach town. Most of the picnic tables littered outside are covered in people; out of towners, teenage locals with sun bleached hair and frizzy perms, old couples who’ve been coming since milkshakes were invented. Almost all of the workers rushing through the diner in red polos are still in highschool and then there’s Vernon manning the cash register at the window like the captain of a ship. He doesn’t even look like he works here; white cut off tee and neon green swim trunks don’t really match the fifties aesthetic but no one says anything, even the owner.

Vernon doesn’t bother ringing the order up, yelling at the line cooks it’s on the house. He thrusts two paper cups and a greasy paper bag across the counter and greets the next customer in line.

Twenty minutes later Mingyu is parking his truck on the side of the road and trailing across the dunes to the even more secluded beach, one only the most local townies know about. Since most of those are few and far between, it’s just you two planted in the sand, chilli cheese fries and chocolate shakes filling your bellies in no time.

“I think I’m gonna get Joe’s logo tattooed on me.”

“He’ll probably leave the place to you if you did.”

“Vernon is literally named in his will, I’ve seen it.” Mingyu lays back in the sand and closes his eyes.

The waves crash on along the shore, the perfect soundtrack to lull you closer to sleep now that your belly is filled. Beneath you, the sand is just warm enough to be cozy against the chill rolling off the ocean.

“Wanna swim?” he asks.

Sinking deeper, eyes closed, you’re only thinking about how amazing your bed would be right at this very moment. “I want to go to sleep.”

“Studies show you sleep better after swimming.” Mingyu rolls up to his feet, grabbing you in an attempt to get you to agree. He knows you will. Wherever one is the other is sure to follow. It’s been that way since you two were in diapers and Mingyu started walking seconds after you only to chase you around the living room.

You’re deadweight in his arms as you respond,“How would you know? You didn’t go to college.”

“I’m just academically inclined.”

“My apologies,” you gasp. A swim does sound nice for your aching muscles. It’s been so long since you just enjoyed the water. Last time you swam was when you picked up a life guarding shift and an old man screamed bloody murder because he didn’t know how to swim; never mind he was in the shallow end of the pool. 

You finally rise to your feet and shrug off your shirt.

Mingyu joins. He doesn’t shy away as he drops his pants, his shirt floating to the ground next to it. You don’t stare. There’s no need when you’ve seen him nearly naked a million times. But you do catch him staring when you bend over to fold your shorts.

“What?”

Blinking out of his daze, Mingyu bolts for the ocean. “Last one in the water is a rotten egg!”

“You fucking cheater!” you scream and sprint after him. 

He’s far out by the time you catch up, where the waves are just starting to curl in on themselves. You both bob along to their rhythm as the tide pulls in and out. 

Mingyu dives beneath the water, breaching with his hair sticking to his face. His lips are wet and slick. Mingyu pulls you a little, brings you into his chest so the next wave you coast over together. 

You want to kiss him. 

It’s not a new thought; doesn’t surprise you one bit. His mouth probably still tastes like that last sip of chocolate shake. The first and only time you’ve ever kissed Mingyu you were both two out of it to actually appreciate it. It was poetically cruel to give your first kiss away to your best friend only for him to forget it the next day.

It’s easy to ignore the urge to kiss him. You’ve wanted to kiss him again for years. Touching him is an entirely different matter. You can touch Mingyu as much as you like, he likes it when you do and pouts when you don’t. You rarely shy away from a chance to let him touch you either. It’s never enough though.

You twist around him, clinging to his back. Ankles locked across his stomach, Mingyu pulls your hands in front of him and holds your hands; his thumb traces the knob of your wrist over and over in tiny circles. He definitely feels the way your nipples harden through your bra but has the courtesy to ignore it; lets you hide from the cold water in the curve of his neck.

“You need a haircut,” you say. You tug on one of the long locks hanging at eye level, and Mingyu shivers. With so much bare skin pressed against each other you feel the goosebumps blooming on his skin, and when you pull again to see what’ll happen he snatches your hand away and changes the subject.

“Are you gonna be good for the Open this weekend?”

“I’ll be fine,” you yawn. Mingyu pulls your legs tighter around his waist, bobbing you both amongst the waves. It’s dangerously relaxing. “I’m not losing to Seungkwan again this year.”

“We’re not losing to Seungkwan this year.”

“Damn straight.”

You float in silence. Mingyu keeps both of you above water. When you signal you’re ready to go he carries you out of the water, right up to where your clothes lay. He doesn’t let you down as he scoops them up and goes for his car. 

“Show off,” you mumble.

“What was that?”

“Nothing!”

You’re deposited on the ground next to the driver’s side door. Apparently he can’t hold you and dig up the spare towels he keeps packed beneath the seats. There’s no point in putting your clothes back on over your wet underwear so you ride back to the house wrapped tightly in a towel and Mingyu’s around his waist, chest completely bare.

You blast through a shower, done before the crappy water heated even has time to reach full potential which isn’t much because rent is cheap and your landlord cheaper. But you’re clean and that’s all that matters before you dress and crawl into bed, the door of your room still open. You catch Mingyu passing by on the way back to his room, towel around his neck and the cut sweat shorts he swears don’t need to be thrown out hanging low on his hips. 

“Where are you going?” you call. 

His head pops in, covered in shadow from the hall light. “You said, literally this morning might I add, ‘sleep in my room one more time and I’ll kill you.’”

“Yeah well,” you huff. “My feet hurt. So you can sleep in here if you give me a massage.”

He does and he doesn’t even complain while doing it. Mingyu closes your bedroom door, locks you both in the dark; sits at the foot of your bed, tugging your feet across his lap and setting to work. His thumb digs into the arch of your foot, malting all of your muscles into straight goo. You’ve never been more happy for his overly abundant body heat as he works his hands up your calves. He’s frustratingly attentive as you shiver and wiggle in blissful agony.

In the dark of your room, brain hazy with fatigue, you don’t care you’re moaning at the pressure of his palms working the knots out of your muscles. Mingyu doesn’t acknowledge it but he does knead a little bit hard and you sigh from relief. And then the bastard digs his thumb into that place behind your knee that's painfully ticklish.

“You asshole!” you scream, scrambling away. 

“What’s wrong? I thought you wanted a massage?” he laughs. You try to kick him but he catches your foot and pins it to his stomach. 

“I swear—Mingyu! Stop!”

Thankfully, he does after a few more pleas. You can’t even see him in the dark except for the reflection of the moon through your blinds that clues you into his silhouette. But you know he’s satisfied because he starts humming while massaging once again. It’s nice. You start nodding off to the soft strength of his hands and the rich sound of his voice.

Mingyu prides himself on doing a thorough job in everything so once your ankles and calves are worked into submission his hands reach higher. Almost like he doesn’t realize exactly where he’s going; who he’s touching as he grips just above your knee. Your legs part and Mingyu keeps going. 

Your best friend is beautiful and you love him. Of course, you do. Like every other time you’ve been turned on by him, you staunchly pretend it isn’t happening. Make up some excuse; biology, you’re in love with him. the fact you haven’t been laid in nearly a year, you’re in love with Mingyu, you’ve been drinking, your best friend has his hand beneath the hem of your pajama shorts and you’re in love with him.

“Good?” he asks.

Mingyu lingers there for a second. Then another one. You decide feigning sleep is the less awkward option than begging him to finger you until you can’t see straight. It doesn’t take much pretending; you’re bone dead tired and the second you let it filter in it takes control. Ever the gentleman, Mingyu removes his hands and climbs up to lay next to you.

You actually fall asleep curled against his back. It’s still too hot even with the ceiling fan on high so you both lay above the covers. 

The next morning you wake up the same as always, legs tangled, his chest to your back because Mingyu doesn’t understand personal space – especially your personal space. It’s fine. You’re used to it. It’s your day off which means it’s too early to be awake because it’s still dark in your room. If you try really hard you know you can fall back asleep until noon.

But then you feel exactly what woke you up.

Mingyu has a boner.

You reach back and pinch his side to wake him. You know he’s at least semi-conscious because he whines and tries to hide in your hair as you admonish him. “Get your dick off me.”

“Ignore it, he’ll go away,” his lips smack next to your ear.

“Mingyu,” you whine. “It’s gross.”

He falls back asleep without moving anywhere. If you had pushed at him he would’ve rolled over and given you his back to cuddle up against but you don’t so he doesn’t. You try not to think about how big he is. Or how your underwear are still a little sticky from last night. Or the fact your shorts rode up during the night and the only thing separating your ass from his cock is those damn threadbare sweatshorts. There is also the placement of his hand just below your boobs. Over your shirt because the universe isn’t that cruel.

It’s fine. It’s not the first time he’s gotten hard while sharing a bed. The first place you two rented - freshly eighteen and just starting to have a world without parents breathing down your necks - there was only enough money between you to split one bedroom and have enough money to afford a bed. Thankfully, Mingyu is the cleanest person you know so it worked without bloodshed but it left some very uncomfortable moments in the morning when you’d wake up from dirty dreams about your childhood crush only to find his face a few inches away. Or the other, more awkward, days when Mingyu’s body reminded him he was a hormonal teenager sharing a bed with a girl with zero supervision.

You both refuse to talk about it. Or the times either of you walked in on the other masturbating. 

True to his word, his dick softens against your ass and you try not to be a little disappointed. A world of possibilities if you weren’t terrified of ruining a life long friendship. You could roll over and kiss him. And if he let you kiss him then you’d want to touch him. If you touched him then he’d probably touch you back. In all the years you’d know him you didn’t take Mingyu for a selfish person; or a selfish lover. If he reduced you to a puddle with a simple massage last night then what else was he capable of? 

But you don’t want meaningless satisfaction. You want Mingyu. Everyday, all the time. One hundred percent completely yours. 

Eventually your alarm clock blares and Mingyu rolls out of bed; leaving you all alone as he heads out to work with the other two. You fall asleep once the front door slams shut.

Ten hours later, Mingyu isn’t home. No problem. He probably got roped into doing an extra shift or the last group he caddied for insisted on treating him to a drink. It happens. Often. 

You don’t worry until hour twelve rolls around and Soonyoung and Dokyeom aren’t home either. The restaurant  is closed by this hour, the last tables cleared out and reset for the next day. The pool is closed too. One of them should be home.

The house is too quiet without them. You try reading. Watching TV. Listening to music. Cleaning the kitchen. You try everything you can think of to make that horrible feeling in your stomach go away but it doesn’t.

Then the phone rings.

“Hello?”

The line cracks with a familiar voice. “Hey, it’s DK. Umm…”

“Where the hell are you guys?” you ask.

“Promise me you won’t freak.”

“You saying that pretty much guarantees I’m gonna freak.”

“Okay, listen, everything is fine. Mingyu is okay but—”

“But what?”

“He hurt himself on the course today and we’re at the hospital. Hoshi is on his way to get you right now.”

“What the hell happened?”

“Something twisted wrong or something, I don’t know I flunked out of med school.”

It takes Soonyoung fifteen minutes to get to the house but once he does you feel a little better. You don’t even get to ask before he’s talking.

“He’s fine,” he promises. “Just doped up on painkillers.”

“Did they say what’s wrong?”

“Something with his knee, nothing super serious but he’s supposed to stay off it for like a month or something.”

Soonyoung looks guilty as you take the keys and leave him behind but he has to be up in four hours when the rest of you don’t.

The hospital is nearly deserted this late at night, a few nurses in the parking lot smoking during their break but otherwise you're pretty much alone. Inside the reception area is all sterile lighting and pleather chairs in pastel pink and teal.

A woman in scrubs and feathered blowout sits at the desk answering phone calls and scratching through paperwork.

“I’m here for Mingyu. Mingyu Kim.”

“Room eight.”

You thank her and head back to search for wherever your best friend is holed up. It takes only a few walks around the corridor because unless he aged fifty years, the elderly woman in room eight is not him.

You find him and Dokyeom with their eyes glued to the TV, Scooby Doo reruns stealing their attention. You hover in the doorway.

Mingyu has his leg wrapped from mid-shin up his thigh, knee resting on a stack of pillows. His eyes are glazed from whatever pills the hospital staff gave him before your arrival.

Someone clears their throat behind you. By the scrubs you assume she’s the doctor. “Another friend of Mr. Kim’s?” 

“Yeah,” you nod. “Is he okay?”

“He sprained his knee. Nasty work but not fatal.”

“How?”

She shrugs, pen clicking in her hand. “Over use, stretched too far either side. Good news, he doesn’t need surgery.”

“So he’ll be okay?”

“Since he didn’t tear any ligaments I’d say a few weeks until he recovers, longer if he doesn’t rest properly. And I mean actually rest. At least a week in bed, and then two on crutches. Maybe three but he’ll be okay.”

Mingyu is fine. As fine as he can be with a bum leg for the next few weeks but fine nonetheless. You feel like you can actually breathe again, the anxious part of your brain proclaiming the worst finally silent.

“Alright, thank you.”

Weight off your chest, you enter the room. Dokyeom sees you first and bows out. He knows you’re planning to rip Mingyu a new one. Or cry. You don’t really do well when he’s hurt or vice versa.

Mingyu only notices your presence when you’re standing next to the bed, arms crossed, breath shaky.

“You’re mad,” he whispers, chin tucked to his chest like an upset toddler.

“I’m not mad.”

“Really?” He sounds hopeful, dumb puppy eyes round and wet like he’s ready to cry at the first sound of your disapproval.

“I was mad when you broke your arm because Jungkook talked you into boogie boarding drunk. I was mad when Wonwoo gave you a black eye from his Atari controller. I was mad when you, tweedle dee and tweedle dumb almost flooded the house. Now, I’m furious. What the fuck were you thinking?”

You’re mad because he’s in a hospital bed and you thought he died. And it terrified you.

“I didn’t do it on purpose!”

You break, shoulders sagging in defeat. It isn’t his fault. Freak accident, an overdue inevitable. “I know, I’m sorry. I just… you really scared me.”

“Do you want a hug?”

“Your leg is broken and you’re offering me a hug?”

He stares at you, eyes pretty and dark with huge pupils. “Dude, I’m so high you could tell me you crashed my truck and I wouldn’t care.”

“A hug would be nice.”

It’s uncomfortable to bend at the waist but Mingyu makes it worth it. Sweeps you into his chest, doesn’t comment on the hot tears that damp his neck and shirt but that might have to do with the fact he’s out of his mind. But he also brushes his hand through your hair and kisses the top of your head so it isn’t so bad.

“You didn’t crash my truck, did you?”

“No,” you snort.

You soak in it for a few minutes, let Scooby Doo fill the silence while you sniffle into his collar for a little while longer. And then you're shoving it all away with the realization Mingyu can’t work if he can’t get around the resort.

“Doctor said you’re out of work for at least a week. And after that you’ll probably be stuck in the laundry room because I doubt Jin wants you hobbling around the cabana with crutches.”

“Fuck,” he whispers.

“Yeah. Fuck,” you agree. “I’ll figure something out, take more shifts. Josh needs more surf instructors too so I can pick those up. Hoshi probably owes one of us money.”

“I’m sorry.”

“It’s fine. It's just gonna be a tight winter is all.”

“What about the Open?”

“Jungkook can fill in for you. If we win, he takes half of your share. It’s better than nothing.”

He mutters something you don’t hear. Probably more high protests and apologies. It smells like antiseptic.

“Come on, let’s get you home.”

It takes three nurses, Dokyeom, a wheelchair, and an infinite reserve of your patience to get Mingyu in the bed of his truck. His knee is bandaged in the split so thickly he can’t move it and he’s too tall to sit in the passenger seat with his leg straight so the truckbed is the only place for him to go. You try to drive responsibly but it’s late and you're burnt out from a long day.

Back home, Hoshi is passed out in his room, the stink of weed warning you not to wake him. Dokyeom offers to help but thankfully, even high on painkillers, Mingyu acclimates to crutches enough to get from outside to his room.

“You smell,” you say to cut the tension.

“How am I supposed to shower like this?” He gestures to his leg. You know the warning signs of his temper. Mingyu will pretend it doesn’t bother him but it clearly does; having to ask for your help to do something as simple as shower.

“I could hose you down in the yard.”

He pouts. The meds must be wearing off at this point. “I’m sure that would make you feel better.”

“Nah, I’d be the one who has to clean you off the driveway afterwards.” You shake your head. The bathroom is small, the shower stall smaller but Mingyu needs a shower. “Give me a second.”

One of the plastic lawn chairs from the back porch fits perfectly in the stall. You lay out everything he could need: soap, towels, a trash bag to wrap over the stint. Then you head back towards your room to get him.

“Alright, let’s go.”

Mingyu hobbles alongside you, easily maneuvering the hallway but the bathroom is more difficult. There isn’t space for his crutches so he slumps into your side, way heavier than the time you had to drag him home higher than a kite. 

It’s claustrophobic with him basically on top of you but he’s capable of underdressing when you park him against the counter and focus on angling the shower head so he doesn't end up accidentally waterboarded. 

“Underwear stays on. I don’t want to see your dick.”

“Yeah, well, he’s pretty scared of you right now anyway.”

After helping him into the chair you leave him to his business with strict instructions to yell for you when he’s done. You use the time to clean your room. Clothes off the floor, bed made so he can sleep with a few extra pillows you snagged from his bed where you’ll be sleeping.

He’s got a bum leg, the least you could do is give him the better room.

You do everything the nurses told you. An ice pack and a hot water bottle all sit on the side table ready for Mingyu after you fish him out of the tub.

A yell of your name is your cue.

Mingyu sits soaked and pathetic. He couldn’t reach the towels you laid out, so you have to hand them to him. Turns out it’s also more difficult getting him out than in, you have to touch and pull and push him. His skin lingers with warmth from the water and a little slippery so it’s even harder. Mingyu is no help at all. A Great Dane who thinks he’s a Chihuahua.

He’s out like a light once he’s in your bed. Dead asleep beneath the covers with his leg sticking out to the side. You tuck him in extra tight, snagging the forgotten provisions and returning them to the kitchen. 

You come back to grab clothes and leave but Mingyu sits awake with the covers pulled back for you to join.

“Come on,” he beckons.

“I’m not sleeping in here.”

His eyes shoot open, attempting to sit up, “Why not?” 

“Your knee—” you start.

“Let me worry about my knee.”

Sure. Like that’ll happen.

“Physically impossible for me not to worry.”

“The doctor said it’s bad for me to be lonely.” He pulls the covers back again and your chest aches. 

“She did not.”

“She did too,” he grunts. 

“Fine. Close your eyes, I need to change.”

He zips them shut. Throws an arm over his face for dramatic effect. You rush into a clean shirt (his) and shorts and dive beneath the covers.

“You’re so far away,” Mingyu whines. 

“Mingyu stop!”

He doesn’t. He uses all those muscles against you and drags you up his chest. “Come here.”

“Happy?”

“Yep.”

Your head is cradled heavy on his chest, the argument dying out. He falls asleep quickly and you follow right behind.

In the morning, Mingyu complains about his leg until you leave for the last minute shift you begged off Chan. The next two days are the same. Mingyu stays on the couch or tucked away in your room while everyone else scrambles around him. Until the weekend comes giving all of you time off.

Saturday is the Open. The biggest doubles volleyball tournament on the beach, boasting a first place prize of two grand. Seungkwan and Seungcheol won the last two years and never let either of you forget it for standing a foot below them on the podium, firmly in second and a thousand dollars poorer than them.

Two years in second place buys you into the semi-finals. Thank god, because Jungkook and you haven’t played together in years and he’s an even bigger ball hog than you remember.

“Talk!” Mingyu calls from his chair like a washed up coach. You argued with him for hours over whether or not him coming to the beach was a good idea given he’s done everything but what the doctor recommended. But he’d be damned if you beat Seungkwan and he wasn’t there to gloat about it.

Dokyeom and Soonyoung serve as his assistants, hitting over the net while you and Jungkook scramble to dig every single one up like it’s do or die.

“That one was clearly mine!” Jungkook argues.

“It was going out of bounds!”

“It was close!”

It’s been like this all morning. While the other courts are playing to qualify you and Jungkook try not to rip each other's throats out. It’ll take a miracle to win a single point let alone the two matches you need to win.

You just want the day over with so you can drown your sorrows in a chocolate shake and think about how satisfying it would be to launch it at your friend’s head at warp speed.

The first game is hard and fast. Jungkook saves your ass more times than you can count, committed to winning even if it sends him crashing into the line of spectators sitting courtside. It doesn’t help you win the first set one bit. Jaehyun successfully blocks nearly every attempt Jungkook makes at the net and the ones that do slide through fly out of bounds.

You don't take well to failure and neither does Jungkook. 

Somewhere around the third rally of the second set you two find a cohesive back and forth. Jungkook digs a cut shot, you set him up and he’s there with a kill. It happens again. The third time Jaehyun gives up on sending it deep and drops the ball right over the net and the miracle you needed happens because you get it up enough for Jungkook to return it and earn the point. 

It starts to feel good. Adrenaline lifting you to the next level, vision narrowed down to you and the game. Lung straining, muscles burning, your skin hot from the sun. Your swimsuit leaves plenty of skin exposed to collect more sand with each impact on the ground. The wind picks up slightly, and turns the sound of waves and the crowd into one dull murmur..

You and Jungkook win two sets to one.

He’s sweaty and covered in sand when he sweeps you into a hug, a victory cry loud on his lips. It isn’t the final match but it’s the small victories that count. Jungkook loves winning, he only likes you and mostly for Mingyu’s sake. The friend of my boyfriend's friend is my friend too, or something like that.

Mingyu and Jungkook are the boyfriends.

On the side lines, Mingyu looks happy. Tired but happy. He’s like a king holding court, friends and strangers circling around him for an ounce of attention. Most of the people at the resort haven’t seen him since he busted his knee and check he’s okay. The others are out of towners attracted to a pretty boy with a sad cast and tendency to talk a mile a minute with anyone who’d listen. 

You push them all out of the way and celebrate with him.

“We did it!”

“Yeah,” he nods. That’s all the celebration you get from him before he’s on to the next game set to start in five minutes. “You and Jungkook need to keep Kwan from hitting. Serve short, hit deep.”

It's weird but you don’t focus on it. You need water and to get back on the court.

“Got it.” 

Seungkwan doesn’t shit talk. It’s mostly Seungcheol at the net trying to bait you into an argument while Jungkook readies to serve.

“How’s your boyfriend?” he jabs.

“How’s yours?” You focus on the sand beneath your feet, the breeze off the wave. He’s been trying to get under your skin with that line for years. It won’t work now. 

First point, you and Jungkook.

The next five, Seungkwan and Seungcheol.

The score goes back and forth, a slim margin for error as the number climbs closer to twenty-one. 

You hit the next set, aiming for the wide gap between Seungkwan and the line. The ball sliced across the net, Seungcheol misreading it by just a hair and the momentum of his block swinging him the opposite direction. It’s perfect. It heads straight for the line and lands without Seungkwan able to save it in time. 

The crowd breaks into applause. The official blows his whistle…

And calls it out.

“That was a touch! Are you fucking blind?” Mingyu yells.

You wince at the next whistle as she flashes him a yellow card.

Fuck. 

He’s up at the perimeter of the court fuming, hands on his hips through his crutches. You march right up to him, identical scowl.

“Mingyu, I swear if you get a red card, I will shove my foot so far up your ass—”

The whistle blows and Seungkwan serves without waiting for you to be ready. It’s a rocket right where you should have been standing.

Seungkwan and Seungcheol take the first match by four points.

The second match starts worse. You’re out of rhythm, fuming at blowing the last set. Jungkook fills in the best he can and keeps you two from totaling blowing it. Fifteen to seventeen with your serve.

You pop it over the net, Seungkwan reading it easily. But a last second gust pushes it of course.

Ace.

Lucky isn’t as strongly on your side for the next serve but it’s good enough. Jungkook passes. With a quick set, he rises above the net, hanging midair. A quick snap of his arm delivers a hit neither opponents on the other side of the net can reach. The ball slams into the sand right before the line.

It’s tit for tat. One up one down. Your body hurts, covered in bruises from diving over and over again but you don’t stop. Jungkook doesn’t either.

Match point comes swiftly. Seungkwan tosses the ball in the air and unleashes a deep serve. It’s fast but you’re underneath it but the angle is wrong. Jungkook dumps it over the net out of Seungcheol’s reach but Seungkwan is there. 

No one’s giving an inch. Just when the ball nearly drops someone picks it up. Everyone plays ugly, scrappy. 

A break comes when Seungcheol passes too high, right on the net. Seungkwan knows it, you know it. You race to joust. Pushing with everything you’ve got until the ball gives. It falls to the sand.

On the other team's side.

Everything blurs. You tackle Jungkook to the ground, cheering. Your friends race onto the court shouting. There’s a dog pile someone has to pull you out of because you can’t breathe underneath them all but you don’t care. Your ears ring, eyes nearly shut from how wide you smile.

You’re carried away for the podium ceremony, Mingyu nowhere in sight. It feels pretty damn good being on top. The heavy weight of the gold medal keeps you grounded. But your best friend is missing and a part of you is gone with him.

You don’t find him until the after party at the locals only beach. He’s got a red cup and a scowl on the tailgate of his truck. 

“Where’d you go? I didn’t see you at the podium.”

“You seemed fine on your own.”

“What’s that supposed to mean?”

“Nothing, I’m fine,” he mumbles into his cup.

“Why are you being such a Debbie downer? We won!”

“You guys won. I got to sit there and watch.”

“Okay? You’re still five hundred richer than this morning.”

“Party over here?” Jungkook interrupts. He’s got a joint between his fingers and a beer bottle. “Before I forget, this is yours.”

He shoves an envelope into Mingyu’s hand, taking the open spot on the tailgate next to him before laying back and looking at the stars.

“I’m gonna grab another beer.”

Mingyu moves surprisingly fast when he wants to. Even with crutches on loose sand he’s back by his truck and waiting for you to leave.  

“What’s got sand in his swimsuit?” Jungkook asks. 

“He’s just… bummed about not playing. It’s fine.”

Jungkook snorts in disbelief. “You think that’s why he looks like a kicked puppy?”

“Then enlighten me, wise one.”

“Why do guys do anything?”

“Because you all lack basic brain function?”

Jungkook rolls his eyes and takes another drink. “To impress girls.”

“I’ve seen your belching contests. Not exactly panty dropping material.”

“Okay obviously not that.”

You had no idea Mingyu meant to impress anyone today. He hadn’t mentioned it, usually he doesn’t need to. Some tourist in for the summer hanging off his every word gave clear intention where his interest laid but since his knee you saw all of zero prospects.

“You two are so fucking stupid,” Jungkoook snorts. “You, YN. He wanted to impress you.”

“That makes no sense.”

“He hasn’t had a real girlfriend since you two started living together.”

You take a long sip before answering.. “So? You haven’t had a real girlfriend ever.”

“Bitch.”

“Slut.”

“Mingyu wanted you two to win. Together,” he emphasises. “Because guys want to impress the girls they like.”

“Oh…oh.”

“Get it now?”

“How do you know?”

“If I have to have one more bro chat with him on how to tell you I’m going to take his crutches and beat him to death with them.”

“Got it.”

You despise the tiny part of you that screams like a little girl finding out her playground crush knows her name. He likes me! He likes me! She squeals, bubbling around your stomach like champagne. 

Drunk on the power itching at your fingertips, you turn to find Mingyu. He’s right where you know you’d find him, a log near the fire, tossing in tiny sticks and watching them disappear in the flames.

“Ready to leave?”

Mingyu nods and gets to his feet, crutches carrying him to his truck. You take the driver's seat and peel out of the lot. 

“How mad would you be if we took a detour?” you ask.

“I wanna go home,” he grunts, staring out the window.

“I want to celebrate with just you,” you share. “Please?”

He melts but clings to the stubborn tone. “Okay.”

Another night at the lookout except this time you’re the one cheering him up. You park his truck closer to the water, he can’t very well get in but you want him to be able to at least see the ocean. He hobbles around to the flatbed and plants his ass on the tailgate.

“I think I’m gonna swim.”

“Okay.”

You tug off your shirt, then your pants. Then your bra.

That’s what freezes Mingyu with bug eyes. “What are you doing?”

“Swimming,” you shrug. He catches your swim bottoms as you launch them at his chest. 

“Naked?” he squeaks.

“Who's gonna see?”

“Uhh, me?”

“So? Maybe I want you to.”

You step closer, hands on his spread thighs and squeeze. 

“What?”

Mingyu doesn’t look beneath your collarbone and you smirk.

“A little birdie told me you have a crush.”

His lips form around words but no sound comes out. Maybe you’re being unfair by standing between his legs completely naked, eying him expectantly.

“Do you?”

“I…” he chokes.

“Think about it,” you whisper. His lips are warm against yours, soft and yielding. Then, you turn to sprint towards the ocean.

Mingyu apparently comes back to himself quickly, sputtering and laughing as you disappear beneath the waves. “You can’t just do that!”

Late night swims aren’t as fun without him around to keep you warm. You dip under the water and come up with soaked hair. You only last five minutes before heading back to where he waits, all your nudity on display but Mingyu keeps his eyes on yours, beaming like an idiot.

The second you’re close enough he tugs you into his chest and kisses you. For real this time. There's more to it than simple payback. He kisses you long and hard, pours all his want into it and takes what you give him in return. His tongue rolls across your lip before you open your mouth, a moan bubbles from one of you.

“I can’t believe Hoshi got to kiss you before I did,” he sighs.

You nestle closer. Right into the warmth of his chest, the soft fabric of his baggy shirt and cologne better than anything else in the world. 

“What do you mean Hoshi kissed me before you did? You were my first kiss dingus.”

“What?”

“Ninth grade, Dokyeom’s parents went out of town and we raided the liquor cabinet.”

He stares back at you blankly. You’re still naked.

“You literally begged me to kiss you because you thought you had alcohol poisoning and would die.”

“Oh my god.”

You kiss his cheek and he loves it, pushing into your lips for more with a happy smile. 

“I knew you didn’t remember.”

You nuzzle down his neck, savoring the warmth of his skin against your mouth; nipping until he shudders. You want him as naked as you. But despite the beach being secluded it’s very much public and you don’t need to be caught the first time you get to kiss him.

“In my defense, I thought that was a dream.”

“How often do you dream of me kissing you?”

“Pretty often.”

“How often is that?”

“Almost every night.”

“You’re such a sap.”

He doesn’t deny it. He’s too busy cupping your face and kissing you again, less tongue and yearning; slings an arm around your waist forcing you infinitesimally closer. It’s sweet at first, lingering touch against your naked back. Catalogues the knobs of your spine with painstaking slowness. Lower. Your waist, the sway of your hips. Then he’s got his hand on your ass, a gentle squeeze of exploration, and you feel a little bit guilty such sweet kisses turn you on so much.

“Come on, let’s get home.”

You back away, snagging the blanket he pulled out earlier and hiding your body as he trails behind. “Are you gonna drive home naked? Because that’s a new fantasy I didn’t know I had.”

“How many fantasies do you have?”

“Where do you want me to start?”

“Calm down, Casanova,” you snort. You tug on the spare clothes collected in his truck; a holey, oil stained t-shirt and a pair of sweats. They smell like him.

“Hey.” Mingyu tugs your hand across the center seat and brings it to his lips. He’s blushy but it might just be from a long day beneath the sun. Or from the boner he’s not even attempting to hide. It’s cute. 

“Hey.”

“I do have a crush on you.”

“I kinda figured.”

“Since like high school.”

“Good,” you comment. “Same.”

An anticlimactic confession but it fits between the two of you. You’ve always been the black cat, a little more out of reach in terms of affection but Mingyu has enough words of affirmation for the both of you. You’re much more adept at showing him how you feel anyway. It’s why you’ve been playing nurse for the past week. 

He keeps your hands tangled the entire way home, slides closer on the bench seat so his side heats against yours. There aren’t many stop signs on the way home but the ones you do hit last longer than needed because Mingyu uses it as an excuse to tilt your face towards him and kiss you again and again. Your lips, your nose, between your brows; slowly, savoring every second.

He’s used to his crutches so getting into the house and locking the door takes only a blink. The other two aren’t home which is a blessing in a curse because in the dark of your room you realize it’s just you and Mingyu. No more barriers in the way, no one to interrupt. It’s unbearably awkward in a way it’s not been since you were nineteen and walked in on him rubbing one out of your shared bed at four in the afternoon.

“Um…”

“Yeah—”

“So,” you stutter. 

Mingyu takes it on himself to reign things in.

“You like me, right?” He doesn’t wait for a response. “And I like you. Well, love you and not just as my best friend but I probably shouldn’t say that—wait! Shit! I didn’t mean that. I mean I did mean that but I didn’t mean to say it.”

“Gyu.”

He collapses onto the corner of your bed, freaking himself out. Ripping his hands through his hair, continuing to panic. “Of course, I love you. You’re my best friend and—”

“Gyu.”

“And if you don’t want to try dating me that’s fine! I’d never make you do something you didn’t want to. I don't think I could, you’re pretty stubborn. Which I like! But—”

“Mingyu!”

“What?”

“Take a breath,” you command. You’re freaked out too but Mingyu’s worse at hiding his feelings. Always has been.

“Sorry.”

“It’s fine, just relax a little. Please. You’re freaking me out.”

A crash echoes from outside the door. Glass breaking and some loud curses of one drunken roommate and a decidedly sober sounding Dokyeom shushing him. 

“Sorry,” Mingyu whispers.

“So you love me, huh?”

“I—” he chokes, and then cuts himself off to nod.

Mingyu, who likes to pretend he’s cool and smooth, reduced to a tight bundle of nerves as he sits on the edge of your bed and waits for your response. He looks at his hands. They flex anxiously together as the silence stretches on. You decide on mercy.

“It’s okay. I love you, too.”

Mingyu’s head shoots up so fast you’re afraid he gives himself whiplash. All you can do is smile, embarrassed by the way he stares at you in awe.

“Really?” He’s already pulling you closer

Biting your lip to control the grin attempting to split your face in half, you nod gently. In his lap, you wrap your arms across his shoulders and say it again. It’s quiet outside the bubble you two have made for yourselves but you like his childish giggles as the only thing tickling your ears.

Innocent touching turns lewd in slow measures just like the beach. Your both more deliberate because getting Mingyu out of his pants is a team effort, underwear firmly in place because you haven’t decided if you’re going to fuck him yet. You want to. But they serve as reassurance you don't rush to a good ending. 

Your shirt comes off, then your pants. You shepherd him to the headboard. Fully naked in his lap, Mingyu traces his fingers over your softest parts. It makes you squirm enough you kiss him to break the itch in your gut from nearly innocent touching. But it only makes it worse. He kisses you with just enough vigor to tease; pulls you closer, a tight grip on your waist you’d struggle to break out of if the thought crossed your mind. A tug encourages your rutting against the hard tent of his underwear.

It’s so much better than anything else before. Mingyu seems to agree, panting and grunting against your throat. You could just do this. It’d be enough to come; more than, as Mingyu sinks down further in the pillows and sucks your nipple gently between his lips. His tongue rolls flat and hot against it before switching to the other one. Your jaw slacks, mouth dry from heavy breaths.

“F-fuck, Gyu.”

He sucks harder and your hips follow, the line of his cock beneath his boxers nothing short of incredible. You’re a little embarrassed from how wet you are. Wet enough to soak his briefs a shade darker. But Mingyu takes charge, manhandles you across his cock with painful friction that makes you limp and pliant.

“Oh my god, Mingyu,” you taper off in a moan. “Why didn’t we do this sooner?”

“‘Mingyu, it’s gross!’” he mocks and then hisses from your teeth on his neck. “Not exactly a confidence boost.”

“Yeah, well, I only said that because I wanted to you to—fuck—fuck me.”

Fishing his cock out from his underwear, you lazily jerk him to full mast which takes only seconds. Mingyu bucks into the swipe of your thumb. You move to suck away the mess collecting there.

“Shit! Ow! Ow!” he winces.

Immediately, you’re off him. “What’s wrong? Is your leg okay?”

Mingyu grits his teeth, head falling back against the pillows. “You hit my leg.”

“Oh, shit. I’m sorry!”

“This isn’t sexy.” He sinks into the mattress, hands hiding his frustration. 

He’s laying in your bed, in only his underwear and the pale moonlight sneaking through the window. You couldn’t disagree more.

“I don’t know.” You kiss his cheek. “It's kinda hot.”

“Oh yeah, it’s great that the first time I get to do anything I can’t even make it good for you.”

“Now, that’s just ridiculous.”

“Stupid fucking leg.”

“Alright, calm down.” You can’t help but laugh. You try to stifle it but he hears it before you do and pouts even harder. “Maybe we should wait.”

He's got you back in his lap, wincing through the sudden pressure on his knee. “No, it's fine! I promise!”

“If it hurts it’s not fine,” you admonish. Mingyu doesn’t let you go though. You don’t really want him to. “Just lay back and relax, okay?”

“What are you gonna do?”

“I’m gonna blow you  and then I’m gonna fuck you.”

You say it like a promise. Mingyu’s eyes widen, jaw dropping at your lewd threat. His cock twitches against your palm and you soothe it with a quick stroke. He ruts into it again.

“Oh.”

“Sound good?” you ask, another slick glide across the leaking tip. He’s shaking.

“Sounds great.”

You kiss down his front, raze a nipple with your teeth until he whines. Even with the order to relax his hands can’t stay still. On your back, in your hair, pulling at the sheets as you tongue across his abs. You’re nearly sent crashing to the floor while bruising his hip bone. 

This time, you’re extra careful when kneeling between his sprawled legs. Your ass high in the air for his pleasure, him sprawled out on the pillows for yours. He’s pretty. The moonlight slipping between the blinds casts him in a pale glow, lines of light crossing his body and illuminating all the best parts: tangled hair from your hands, swollen lips from your kissing, a splotchy hickey on his hip claiming him as yours.

His cock spills from the band of his underwear, hard and waiting. You keep watching as you suck the tip of it. His eyes open at that, watching you watching him and he can't decide if it's heaven or hell right there beneath you on the mattress.

“Oh my god.”

It’s slow work to roll his underwear down without jostling his bad knee but you distract him with teasing caresses of every newly revealed inch of skin. There isn’t much you haven’t seen but you’re eager to get reacquainted. Fingers, then lips, then soothing the sting of your teeth with some wet pecks. And then you draw his cock across your tongue for the first time and he jumps.

“Holy shit.”

“What?” you garble around a mouthful of cock. 

There isn’t really a good angle with his knee in consideration so the rhythm of your hand is lackluster at best. You make up for it with hollowed cheeks he can’t look away from, and he actually throbs between your swollen lips as your tongue traces every ridge and vein meticulously. Each time he starts to answer your question you suck the head until he whines.

“You’re…” he sighs. “this is gonna sound weird but I’ve only dreamed of you doing this since we were like sixteen.”

A brief break for the sake of your jaw gives you time to joke, “No pressure.”

“It’s already better than I thought if that means anything.”

“Stop being cute, I'm trying to suck your dick.”

You cut off his rebuttal with a swallow and his eyes nearly bug out from his skull at the sight. His hand rests on the back of your head, gathering your hair to keep it out of the way. “Is this…”

You nod enthusiastically before he even finishes his thought, mouth watering at the possibilities. You ache for it. You want him to call the shots and let you follow merrily behind, bent to his whim.

“Open your mouth, baby.”

You open wide for his cock to brush the back of your throat softly. Not too much just yet while he gathers the confidence to maneuver you the way he needs; the way he’s apparently been dying to for years. 

He’s got one hand on the back of your head, the other tangled in the sheets as you suck him rigid. Brace for a gentle gag, just enough for him to hear, and the taste of sticky pre-cum floods across your tongue. You get a few more drags of your tongue up the head of his cock before he leverages to grip in your head and pulls you off.

“Okay, okay. Stop.”

“What’s wrong? Is it your leg?”

Mingyu ignores your question. His only response is a sloppy kiss with too much tongue but you can’t fault him for it with the pleasant heat of his hands on your ass once more. 

“Wanna eat you out,” he grunts.

You snort at his optimism. “I can see some issues with that.”

He lifts you up his chest. It’s horrible that someone with a face like his is also a muscle pig who can bend you anyway he wants even with an injury; Jungkook fully to blame for too many workouts on the beach. Mingyu has you up his chest before you realize where this is going.

“Sit on my face.”

“I—” you blink. Porn isn’t a good reference for sex, not that you’ve seen much since the only TV sits in the living room. You’ve seen the magazines your friends buy as gag gifts though and the thought of Mingyu smothered in your cunt makes you sweat. “Are you sure?”

Apparently it’s a stupid question because Mingyu just pulls you further up until you’re kneeling over him and he’s got enough room to deliver soft licks to your core.

You don’t care how loud you’re being or the fact you share a wall with Dokyeom who doesn’t deserve to hear your pathetic moans in surround sound. Mingyu abuses your clit, sucks and licks and kisses with lewd vigor until you rut down into it.

You need a break. Just a second to regain sanity but Mingyu isn’t that generous. He holds you by your ass, palms it so hard you squeak as he moves you against his mouth, drops one hand when he’s confident you aren’t planning to run away again. The stretch of two thick fingers crook just right to have you seeing stars.

“Th-there.”

Mingyu hums into the sloppy mess of your cunt, holding steady as you fuck yourself along his face, tongue out to swipe messily at your clit. His head shakes back and forth and makes you whine to the ceiling fan. You savor the rhythm he sets, thick fingers working to prep you, stretching and spreading until your stomach dips. He knocks every tight noise in your chest out with each rush.

“That’s…Just like that. Gyu, please.” You nails scratch against the wall aimlessly. He stretches and stretches, molds you to him and every one of his whims. 

Until all you can do is snap.

You’re wobbly on jelly knees, clit numb even while Mingyu suckles against it softly for your come down. You roll off carefully to sit bubbly and golden back in his lap. Eyes closed, you lean blindly into his space and squish his cheek with yours.

He’s just as messy as you feel. Face wet, choked breaths and racing pulse, you deflate against each other. The bloodlust for satisfaction lulls to a simmer. You use it to enjoy all the warm skin on skin contact.

Aftercare comes in the form of lips dragging over wherever either of you can reach, no energy for real kisses just savoring the lazy motion. The hands that plucked you into a whimpering mess massage your thighs, your back; pull and tangle his fingers between yours.

“When my knee is better I’m gonna do that for an hour.”

“Lucky me,” you huff. 

You find his mouth, suck his bottom lip between yours until he demands more. His cock rests against his stomach, hot to the touch. Gentle at first. Teasing with a light brush of your fingers. Then getting a tight grip around him until he bucks.

“Want you,” Mingyu groans, pulling you further up his thighs. “Wanna fuck you.”

On your knees, you position over him to do just that but he stops you.

“Condom?” 

Good thing at least one of you is thinking because you didn’t even think about it. Your nightstand drawer is barren, not even an empty box left. Not a single condom wrapper in sight.

“Fuck. Do you have any in your room?”

He doesn’t. Which means you’re at the mercy of your roommates and their ability to practice safe sex.

You tug Mingyu’s shirt over head but even if it hides your nudity you smell like sex and have the glow on your features to back it up. There’s flaking pre-cum and spit against your chin.Whatever, you’ve heard your roommates howling like dogs enough times to earn your own night of debauchery.

“Hosh.” You rap on his door but he doesn’t answer. When you open it he’s face down in the pillow, trash can close by. You watch just long enough for his chest to expand to make sure he isn’t dead before prodding him in the side.

“Wha? What?” he mumbles through drool.

“Condoms?”

He stares at you with all the sentience of rock before answering. “I can’t sleep with you, Mingyu will kill me.”

“You stupid bitch,” you sneer, slapping him with his own pillow. “Where are your condoms?”

Soonyoung buries himself back into his sheets. “I don’t have any.”

“Oh my god.”

You fly out of his tiger den and to Dokyeom’s door down the hall.

“Kyeom?” You knock. “Dude, are you awake?”

He actually answers the door. His bedside light is still on, some comic book left open on his bed. “Is someone dead?”

“No. Do you have a condom?”

“For who?”

Your eyes roll. “Me, dumbass.”

“Who’s the guy?” Dokyeom looks at you like he doesn’t believe it. Maybe the walls are more soundproof than you thought.

“Mingyu.”

“Wait, really?”

“Yes, really! We can have girl time later, but I need a condom. Now.”

He forces his entire stash, an unopened 32-count box, into your hands before pushing you back into the hallway with a quiet ‘good luck.’

Your roommates are fucking weird.

Tucked back in the dark of your room, Mingyu is waiting.Blanket wrapped around his waist, propped against the headboard just like you left him.

“Hi.”

“Hi,” he smiles. He looks a little pathetic. 

“Did you know Dokyeom keeps a thirty-two pack in his room?” You hold up the evidence as proof.

“Apparently, he’s seeing some waitress at the Kellerman.”

“Enough times he needs a bulk box of rubbers?”

“Clearly not if he gave them to you.”

“I think it’s more like a ���congrats on finally getting together’ present.”

“How thoughtful of him,” he snorts. “Now come over here. I missed you.” 

“Can’t have that, can we?” You kneel on the bed next to him. His hand sneaks up the back of your leg, beneath your shirt to cup your ass.

“Yeah, the doctors said it was bad for me.”

“Well if the doctors said…” You lose the thought in a gentle sigh against his mouth. Mingyu peels your shirt - his shirt - over head and banishes it to the floor. You're naked in his lap and he’s naked beneath you; it makes you clench.

He covers every inch of your naked skin in soft kisses, puffs of breath heating your neck as you stroke his cock hard enough to slip the condom on.

“Fuck, you’re so hot.”

You balance on shaky knees, sheathing him inside you in a slow descent. He wants to fuck up into you so badly. You can feel it in the way his hands squeeze on your hips, his stomach dips as you take more. Everything about Mingyu is big, including his cock. Big enough you could sit there all night and never get used to the stretch, or the way he whispers sweet praises into your temple.

Good girl. My favorite. Perfect for me.

When you finally bottom out, ass flat to his thighs, pressed tight to his chest, you whimper, “M-Mingyu.”

He groans into your cheek. “Love how you say my name.”

It’s all on you to make this good. You rock forward, instantly dissatisfied with the emptiness of your core and immediately moving to end the feeling. You grind on him and that feels better. He wedges deep and stays there; presses your buttons from the inside out as he mouths across your shoulder.

You’re so wet, soaked from his mouth, and his thumb takes advantage by gluing to your clit, tight circles that make you spasming. He guides you while nipping back up to your mouth, one hand heavy on your ass. 

“Oh, keep doing that,” he moans when your nails dig into his chest. 

The slap of skin against skin is background noise to grunts and groans and pathetic whines that meld between your mouths. Lightheaded, you aren’t even kissing, open mouths brushing against one another with narrowed vision. 

“Is it,” he gasps. “Is it bad if I ask you to turn around?”

“D-depends why you’re asking.”

“Wanna fuck you from behind. Wanna watch you take my cock.” He squeezes your ass to punctuate the request.

“Watch me like this.” You lean back, carefully to balance on the mattress and not his legs. Mingyu glues onto the unobstructed view down your front: your throat, your breasts, the way your cunt clings to his cock on the upstroke. “You like it?”

Hips finding a jilted rhythm, Mingyu snakes a hand up your chest and twists your nipple until you nearly collapse. “So good, it looks so good.”

“Next t-time,” you hiccup. “You can fuck me however you want. Want you to…fuck me from behind.”

He tugs the back of your neck. You collapse with the strength of his muscles and land nose to nose with him. 

“You’re so good— fuck, so tight for me. For me, yeah?”

You give a dumb nod, voice mute with the deep rhythm battering your walls.

“Say it. Say you’re mine.”

You can only nod again. Hair sticks to your sweaty face, a few rogue tears joining the mess Mingyu’s left on it.

“Say it, wanna hear you say it. Please.” He’s lost somewhere. Some desperate place that needs your validation.

You chant exactly what he wants to hear. Yours, yours, yours. A second duller bolt flashes through you, tensing every last muscle. Mingyu jolts from the tight squeeze gripping his cock. You give him the last sweep of your energy, bouncy wildly, fucking him quick and hard until your eyes cross.

“I’m—Mingyu, oh,” you whimper. You don’t stop even though your muscles object. Thrashing as you seize and come hot and wet. 

Mingyu’s got his hands to move you when your joints lock, a desperate race to his own end. He rubs you raw and red right to the core. You let him; still sobbing through the last pulses while he manhandles you over his cock roughly, slick with no resistance.

“Baby, fuck, feels so good,” he grovels, fucked out of his mind.

Your legs try to close, run away from the rush of even more stimulation, but Mingyu keeps you firmly pinned in place. He bites your neck, your shoulder, coming in thick breaths, hips stuttering while you sit there and take it. His fingers take advantage of the mess of your core but there's nothing left for you to give. Maybe later.

Mingyu gasps for air like he just did a deep dive. “Holy shit fuck.”

The touching doesn’t stop. You sweep your hands over his shoulders, cup his face, trace fingers of his stomach. Mingyu’s got one hand to keep you from pulling off his just yet, the other glued to the dip of your spine. Places forbidden to touch as just friends, now unlocked.

Condom in the trash, tissues for a quick clean up. You’re sticky in all the worst places but it’s a problem for later.

“So…when's our first date?” you ask him, cuddling back into the crook of his neck for the rest of the night.

“You. Me. Patty’s tomorrow morning.”

“Are you actually gonna pay for our food this time?”

Mingyu squeezes at your side, lips against your hairline. “You’re the one rolling in dough, Ms. Champion.”

“So I’m your sugar momma now?”

“That’s hot.”

The rebuttal dissolves on your tongue. You’re both deadweight. Sweaty and glowing in a pile of limbs, shivering beneath the ceiling fan. Mingyu is happy as your pillow, sweeping his hand over your back and hair as you crest sleep.

Turns out your room doesn’t get too hot with Mingyu sleeping in it if you’re both naked.

taglist: @cvpidyunho @miniseokminnies @ddaengpotate @arycutie

@gaebestie @primoppang @gyuguys @mine-gyu @doremifasire

@missminhoe @toplinehyunjin @crvs4vldtn @prettygyuuu @sliceofwoozi

@writingbarnes @dokyeomkyeom @christinewithluv @minwonfairy @idkjustlovingbts

@wobblewobble822 @futuristicenemychaos @seungkw1 @horanghaezone @jespecially

@scoupsjin @isabellah29 @luvseungcheol @crisle19 @iamawkwardandshy

@lukeys-giggle @aaa-sia @tinkerbell460 @gyuhao365 @ourkivee 

@bokk-minnie @cookiearmy

@AliceFortescue @moonlightwonu @Ateez-atiny380 @LexyRaeWorld @melonacco

@lllucere @wwjagabeee @syluslittlecrows @yourbimbohope @whrryuu

@wonrangwoo @xchaenx @nuttywastelandmentality @champagnenoona @kyeomofhearts

[world-of-aus]

Hot Shot

Pairing: NHL!Photographer!Reader x Hockey Player!Bucky

Warnings: Bucky being a heartthrob.

A/N: I've been reading one to many hockey romances and well here we are scratching an itch. I know I would like to eventually come out with a bigger story for these two but for now this is just the start a taste if you will. I'd like to leave this open to suggestion of what y'all would like to see or know about these two if anything.. Hope you enjoy the first taste.

You barely had a chance to unlock your screen to reply to her message before her caller ID

was taking up your screen, a recent photo of her and Steve that she had made as her contact picture pulling a smile onto your lips.

“Tasha.” you answer.

“Y/n, listen I know you were just planning on watching the game from the comfort of your living room but I mean talk about an upgrade! From a television screen to being at the actual game on the floor behind the safety of the glass getting some wicked shots, and no one captures action shots like you do - I promise I wouldn’t have asked otherwise.” she tacks on her voice pleading.

You chuckle, you know had the circumstances been different she’d be one of the first ones at the arena, she hadn’t missed one of Steve’s games yet, not since you had been signed on. “Natasha relax, you know you don’t have to pull out the stops on me, I'll go - do you want me to send you the photos?”

The redhead turned blonde breathes a heavy sigh of relief, “oh god thank you! and if you don’t mind, but take your time, I’m sure a certain bruin's player is going to be demanding your attention after the game especially if they bag a win.” she teases seemingly mentioning the man in your DM’s.

Your cheeks warm, the unread notification from the player she speaks of appearing in your mind, “please Tasha,” you deflect, “it’s the game of the season he’ll have plenty of attention with all the puck bunnies sporting his name on their jersey throwing themselves at him for an inkling of his attention.” you murmur picking at an invisible speck of lint on your sweater as you stand from the couch, intent on getting your things packed to head out.

“And yet he only seems to want yours,” she sings, “you should totally wear the jersey I got you for your birthday.”

You roll your eyes smile pulling at your lips, “is your flight really delayed, do I have to text Steve?”

Your friend laughs, “unfortunately it is and hey thank you again for this, I owe you, love you, oh and send me a picture of Steve, one of you and Bucky too!”

You shake your head as your friend rushes out her farewell your screen now gone black as you look down at it “looks like pjs are out of the question for tonight” you murmur continuing on through your apartment to grab your things Bucky’s text still sitting in your messages unanswered.

He’d have his answer soon enough.

🏒🖤

The cool of the arena’s backstage floor seeps through your jeans, your tripod sitting off to the side, your camera nestled in your hands as you wait for the first few players of the bruins to make their arrival.

Your camera goes up; the first of the team to come through the backdoors is the Bruins coach Fury, he spots you smile on his face his hand coming up in a greeting as you get your first arrival shot of the day. Slowly players begin to trickle in, most of them spot you posing for you as they stride by, others walk by with a simple wave their heads already in the game.

Speaking of head in the game center Steve Rogers makes his way in, his suit pressed, duffle thrown over his shoulder as he owns the floor. “Looking good Rogers, say you wouldn’t have Natasha tucked away in that duffle by chance?” you tease grinning behind your camera. You laugh at the grin that breaks his lips, a shake of his head as he directs his gaze at you, “can assure you Natasha wouldn’t be packed in my bag, she’d be hanging on my arm.” You coo at the bearded blonde, “you think you can say that again I didn’t have my phone out.”

The two of you laugh as you capture a few more shots, “Come on Rogers leave some love for the rest of us, you already have your face glued on billboards!”

Left defenseman Sam Wilson is striding in next million dollar smile painted on his lips like the suit he wears on his skin. “But no one has their face printed on as many shirts like you do Wilson, now give me something new to look out for will ya, want to make sure these etsy sellers get only the best!” Wilson eats your words up, feeding the fans through your film. He comes closer kneeling to your level to pull you in for a hug, “it’s good to see you hot shot, thought you weren’t coming out tonight with how Barnes was moping.”

Your heart beats like a wild drum in your chest, “Tasha’s flight got delayed, cashed in her IOU, so here I am and surely your version of Barnes moping is different from mine.”

“Oh man you should of seen him, had to smack the phone out of his hands with how often he was checking it, you’re gonna join us tonight after the win right?”

“You Bruins are so sure about that win,” you laugh.

“That’s because it’s in the bag, hot shot.” It takes everything in you not to snap your eyes to the broad shoulder right defenseman sauntering into the building. “Here comes your boy.” Sam chuckles patting your shoulder as you find said man with your camera lens. You wanted to eat him up like he was eating at your film.

Like Sam Bucky strolls till he’s standing above you, grin pulling at his pink lips as he offers you his hand. You set your camera down gently against your chest before taking his offer, warmth seeping though you at your hand wrapped in his. “Thought you weren’t gonna show.” He murmurs watching you.

“Well as enticing as staying in my pjs on my couch with a glass of wine watching the game tonight sounded IOUs are a serious thing to cash in.” you say struggling to keep his gaze, you were certain you’d turn into a puddle of goo soon.

“More enticing then upgrading your lock screen?”

You let out a groan reaching out to smack his chest, but his hand captures yours instead keeping it there a teasing smile playing at his lips. “You’re never going to let that go are you?” you question recalling the night at the bar that he discovered himself as your lock screen. To be fair it was one of your favorite shots you had captured at the beginning of the seasons. It didn’t hurt that he was your favorite Bruin player to follow on and off the ice.

“Never, though I’m hoping by the end of the night ill see a photo of me after the win.” He chuckles thumb running over your hand.

“You’d have to secure a win first Barnes.”

Your breath catches in your chest as he closes the distance between the two of you, “I’ve already won though.”

Your reply is caught on your tongue, Fury voice breaking through the haze, “Barnes you’ll have time to catch up with y/n later get your ass in the lockers now!”

Bucky let’s your hand falling, chuckle brewing in his chest as he steps back, “hope you’re not watching Wilson or Rogers to closely tonight hotshot because this wins for you, and I’m going to be the one bringing it home.”

You watch him walk away, his gaze lingering on you till he disappears through the locker room.

And God how you hoped he would.

[charbeloved]

you make me cry happy tears prometheus /pos

This'll be in chrono order for our mooting days that i remember or believe

Wave 1

@mysteriouswolf @geodetojoy [ + @royallygray but you came after tapes and cloud ]

I love you guys so, so much, you are my life and my family. You guys were part of my first wave of mutuals, and the first to reach out and interact. I still have all three of you guys' song covers in my playlist, and even if I wanted to escape you guys I'd have to scrub my computer and my phone clean to do so.

G, Prometheus, GMan, Geo, you are one of the most determined and most hard working people I know. Even though you've gotten a lot busier and shit you're still checking in with our group chats on discord and such.

Myst, Icarus, Mysti, you are one of the most caring and considerate people I know. I miss you, but I also know that you need to take care of yourself and even though you're on break (from discord atleast) you still took the time a week ago(?) to check in and ask how I was.

Roy, Daedalus, even though we've barely interacted I can tell you've got a creative mind, and that you're a caring person. I know you probably have a lot going on in your life now but you've still occasionally reached out and pop the 'how are you guys' in the gc of just me you myst and g.

Gradual 1

@rantapes @cloud-has-fallendown @glowinggayduo

I don't even remember how became moots, who followed who first, but from our little interactions I can tell you three are amazing and funny and just overall just kind people. I've been mutuals with Cloud and Falle since before either of them changed their usernames, actually, and any time I see you three in my activity I'm always really happy.

Wave 2

@naris-606 @ruby-raider ( @host-the-radio-guy you came after The Askblr Wave )

Moather, Mama, Uncle Jimmy, you three are genuinely like parents to me (yes, even you Jimmy. Even if I call you Uncle.)

Lyn, Moather, you got me to be so much more active on Tumblr just with your silly little roleplay blog. If you didn't have Ask-Grian then I would certainly not be here today, you've helped me so so much and I genuinely would never have been so happy right now had qe never met.

Nari, Mama, you were one of the first of Askblr to follow me and the first to get me on Discord, I believe, unless Lyn got that first. You're so sweet, so kind, so caring, and I just can't help but see you genuinely as a Mama.

Jimmy, Timmy, whatever I end up saying or typing, you're so kind and you have an amazing sense of humor. I miss being able to call with you, and being able to just have the sillies againbut life must life and I figure you're in A Time.

@aurum-the-yapper @gh0styfr13nd @levidoesstuffs

You three are my siblings, whether you like it or not.

Aurum, I don't even have a nickname for you like I do the rest. Every time we interact it's so fun. When I first joined Askblr you were one of them, one of the famous people that I looked up to and that I didn't want to scare off.

Sam, Ghosty, you're like an older brother to me. I know we'll sometimes act as if I'm the older but I'm definitely not. I used to look up to as an Idol of sorts but you're definitely not idol material, not for me anymore, cause you're my brother and can't ever get rid of me.

Levi, Listener, you're a funny a person and I' so glad I met you. You beat all my friends at telling me happy birthday at the exact time I was born and it was just too funny, since I believe that was genuinely our first interaction and it was you yoinking the title of Ultimate Best Friend from the ones I actually talked to on the daily- and now you're my sibling. Even though we talked nothing about it. You're my sibling now.

@cat-in-the-desert @cookiekit1 @iwillcausechaos

You two came in during the wave of Askblr mods following me, Cat being RG mod I believe? I'm not sure- but either way, we've only interacted a few times. I'm sure you three are amazing people!

Gradual 2

@mcskedprisoner @charlybvnny

You two are from the whole Ask DSMPblr yeah?-

Uhm, yeah, so, you guys? I get scared yo interact with either of you cause in my brain you are like big mcyts. Happens with anyone i come across on tumblr im realizing-

IRLs

This bit is in order of when I met them IRL

@xoxii-is-asleep

Xoxii, hi, hello, we looked eachother in the eyes and laughed about mustard yesterday. Know youre my favorite cousin, love you

@jooberzzz @hermit242 @silly-the-shrimpy

You three were part of my first friendgroup that's ever gotten tumblr, you three are some of the reasons I'm still going.

Joob, Telemachus, Joobia Woobia, Child #1, you were the first one I 'adopted.' I love you like a mother loves her child and I need you to know that.

Hermit, Child #2, I miss you so, so very much. If you ever come back to Discord, or if you see this, I'll always have an account on discord named Charbeloved that you can friend.

Tater, Circe, Child #3, you're in the same bout as your sister to me. Stop getting taller. /lh

@theobs3ssivepuppeteer

Darling, Puppet, Dove, Light of my life, 3rd life Scar to my 3rd life Grian, Penelope to my Odysseus, my air, my universe, my everything. I miss going to school qifh you, I miss your hugs and your voice (i say as im about to be on call and mc with you) i love you.

You're the most caring, most considerate and amazing person I know, you're so sweet, hun, you're sweeter than dark chocolate covered on frosting and actually maybe not because just the thought of that is making my teeth hurt

@b0b3rty

Bob. You. YOU ARE YOU. i dont.

My qords are gone when it comes to you wait-

Idols

@clearlyclueless @cyncerity

You two.

Cyn, you got me into reading fics (now i write and i can thank you for that) and I look up to you dearly. Any time I see you in my notifs I go insane, honestly-

Clueless. Istg you made fics. I. I swear. Thats why i followed you.

For your fics.

Unless im misremembering but i believe you were also one of the first tumblrs i found (before i even made my account)

Others

@federalfazbear @mcsm-r0ckz @pequena-polla58 @pompygirls

I don't remember when you guys came in, but I know we've barely interacted at all- get PERCIVED if you followed me first and IM GETTING PERCIVED if you're an important person that I didn't follow first or someone I followed first, always feel free to reach out and ask questions i love interacting on the gay site!

i am also thankful for @literallyd34d and @belladonnamoonundead

[drinkabletoxicdishsoap]

the fandom’s characterization of peri becoming a father to dev will always be interesting to me because where it did it even come from ???

I mean in operation birthday takeback, bro CLEARLY did not care. He honestly seemed so disinterested and didn’t even care when they went into his dad’s private office by accident. He didn’t seem care or smile for his godkid when he was happy. Even got a little mean when Hazel made a nice wish for him with the rocket boots (“Well that should keep him entertained for about 10 minutes” or smth like that)

Lost in Fairy World he didn’t really seem to care either??? he really only just wanted his wand and to ‘look good’ in front of his godkid and do things his way without his parents interfering. Sort of like how a babysitter wants to look good in front of the family of the kid they’re looking after if that makes sense.

The only time we ever seen him actually care about dev was in the finale when he said that. But even after fairy world got turned to normal he didn’t really seem sad about dev??? he was just smiling after, seemed genuine too and not a fake one. Maybe it’s just me, but if I was a fairy and lost my first godkid, who took over my home, I would be doing anything BUT smiling, even if we won in the end. Peri doesn’t seem like one to hide his emotions easily either (maybe I’m reading into his character wrong)

You could bring up best of luck, which I would say is a fair point, but I’m going to bring back the babysitter/job synonym. Wouldn’t you get jealous of the person that stole your position or place in a work environment after you got fired?? Especially if your rival/enemy took that position?? I PERSONALLY don’t think the jealousy comes from a place of care, but maybe that’s just me.

It could honestly just be the fandom’s way of coping since Dev doesn’t seem to have any good people in his life after the finale, but why Peri? I mean if you really want to make one of the fairies a father figure to dev, I’d say the anti fairies more over are his family but that’s IF we have to choose.

Don’t get me wrong, I do think all of the peri and dev being a father son duo is super cute and heartwarming!! I love seeing all of the art and fics of that because it really is sweet :3 but to me, it just doesn’t really make sense and seems more out of character for Peri if anything.

He seems to care more about following Da Rules in my opinion. And while I do think it’s important to follow rules, especially when it comes to a job, you shouldn’t rely on them. At a job, you shouldn’t be constantly looking over rules to make sure you’re following them, you might end up tripping over yourself. That’s what Peri ended up doing.

If I assign the duo as anything, it would be the tired babysitter who just wants to get paid and the kid he’s looking after. A dude working a 9-5 at his job he couldn’t really care less about (dev).

I mean (only from his words) he wanted to go into the family business. Not because he genuinely cares for kids, but because it’s what his family has done. He’s treating godparenting as work, not stepping into a kids family and genuinely looking after them.

I do wonder if he would act the same way if he had an easier godkid.

BUT!!!! that’s just my thoughts. I’m sorry if I got anything wrong and feel me to correct me if I did !! Also if you disagree with anything that I’m saying, tell me why in either the replies or reblogs !! I would love to hear other people’s perspectives or opinions.

That’s it 😨 thank you so much for coming to another yap session and I hope you have a great day/night wherever you are in the world <3

[do-androids-dream-ao3acc]

In honor of @littlepaws9's birthday, we will pretend the break-up never happened... this is very short and hopefully as fluffy as you like your BuckTommy ;)

............................................................................................................................

"I wanna take you out tomorrow," Buck breathes into Tommy's ear, half-hidden from the bedsheet. 

The answer is a mere grunt, he takes it as approval.

"It's a nice restaurant," he continues to chatter, "a bit outside of town, not so fancy, pretty cozy, I think you'll like it."

Squinting, Tommy questions his pillow with a muffled, "Tomorrow’s New Year’s?"

"I've made the reservation a couple of months ago."

This confession seems to crack Tommy’s eyes finally open. He’s still wearing this adorable scrunched-up sleeping face, but Buck can tell something is working behind his brow. A couple of months ago, they almost broke up over a stupid argument, preceded by an evening at Miceli's. It was easy to guess that Buck – after their very hot reconciliation – had made a kind of vow for the future: never to go to that restaurant again, and to never leave anything to chance. 

"Fine, but why are you telling me this at..." Tommy lifts his head briefly to look at the alarm clock on his nightstand, "six in the morning?"

"I've got a shift. And you live closer to Harbor than to the 118."

"Huh?"

"One of us has to get up early, sleepyhead," Buck says with a laugh, pressing a kiss on the fuzzy head sticking out of the sheets.

The restaurant really proved to be beautiful, far from all the chrome and glass that modern places in L.A. considered aesthetically pleasing. This special day seems to call for wine, so they settle for red. At the tables around them, only couples are to be seen. Buck finds Tommy to be unusually taciturn, and he starts to wonder why. 

"You tired?" he asks, causing Tommy to look up in surprise from the salad he’s been pushing back and forth with his fork. "We can always have dessert at home, if you want."

He winks, and Tommy scrunches his face in his pretty little smile.

"I'd like that," he returns. "But that's not it."

Putting a hand on Buck’s, he softly explains, "New Year’s Eve is always so… charged. Everybody’s making vows and resolutions, and it’s become some kind of couple event, almost worse than Valentine’s." With a nod, he gestures to the guests around them.

"Too corny?" Buck offers. 

"Hm, too many expectations," Tommy cautiously replies. "And... Sometimes you don't know how to fulfill them."

"Expectations," Buck echoes, pondering whatever this might mean. "Look, all I'm expecting is for you to sit there, enjoy your free meal and look at your handsome boyfriend."

"Oh, I can do that," Tommy says with a smirk, raising his glass. 

"Totally cool if this isn't your holiday," Buck continues, a little more serious now. "Just wanna be with you, like... every day, you know?"

Tommy tilts his head and seems about to reply, but Buck quickly interrupts him.

"Don't freak out, because yeah, I do admit I'm a fan of holidays, any kind of them. And I… I brought you something. You can find that kitschy, be my guest to hide under the table, and I expect nothing in return, but…"

Suddenly, there’s a small box in his hand, and Tommy’s features slip.

"Evan," he breathes, a trail of disbelief in his voice. "We agreed on no presents."

"I said don't freak out! That was Christmas, by the way. And it’s not what it looks like." 

With a sheepish smile, he opens the box. Inside lie two very discreet, very pretty silver ear studs in the shape of the letter E. 

"Remember when I once asked you about your pierced ears? You said you got them in your youth but didn’t dare wearing any earrings because of your career choices. And, w…well. You're no longer in the closet. And I know that I'm not the reason for it, but... I'm the reason you admitted it to some of your old friends, and those are my friends too, and that's kind of a big deal somehow. I’m sorry."

"What are you sorry for?"

"It's embarrassing, especially after you’ve made it clear Christmas and New Year’s aren’t your … favorites."

"Well," Tommy stretches, reaching for one of his pockets, pulling out quite a similar little box. 

"They’re not," he admits. "There’s a reason I like to volunteer for shifts on those days. Until… well, until you, Evan. I know I kinda chickened out of Christmas, just didn’t feel right to be with your family. You were so understanding, I felt bad. And it was obvious you had something planned for today. It’s adorable when you try to keep a secret. This wasn't exactly what I was expecting... well, that's a conversation for another day. And even if I don't particularly like the day, that doesn't change my affection for you, Evan. I've spent the last few days thinking about how I could show it to you. Pondering what you would like. And, uh... great minds think alike, I guess?"

He flicks open the box to reveal a set of small, silver ear studs. They look like tiny T’s. 

"Cheesy, isn't it?" he says with a broad grin that can hardly hide the fact he’s about to burst out laughing.

"Pretty much," Evan laughs before blurting out, "I don't even have pierced ears, babe."

"I know a good tattoo artist."

"Oh, me too. You know what? We'll go there together. Ear piercings for me and a new tattoo for both of us."

"Bold, Evan. You better not get my name engraved, who knows if you’ll still want me next year?"

"Don't worry," Buck replies with a smile. "You're a keep, no doubt about that."

[quintessenceofdust88]

Okay, tumblr milestone prompt, here it comes: As I'm in need of fluff myself, what about a day in the life of married couple BuckTommy domestic fluff? If that makes any sense? I just love the idea of them married, calling each other happy, and being in love.

Ohhh I love this prompt! There's sth about fluffiness in marriage that really gets to me.

Anyway hope you enjoy it, darling! It's not exactly a full day bc I got carried away hehe, but it's very very fluffy anyway.

And HAPPY BIRTHDAYYY AGAIN I hope you're having a great one!! (and that it's still your birthday in your timezone cause I really wanted to get this done by your birthday)❤️❤️

--

Tommy's face is the first thing Buck sees when he opens his eyes in the morning and, as cliché as stupid it sounds, that brings a smile to his face. He tried to wait up for Tommy to get back from his shift last night, but fell asleep with his cellphone in hand, reading an article about octopuses (they took Jee to the aquarium on the weekend and it had an effect on him).

When Buck wakes up, it's to find his cellphone plugged in and neatly stacked on his nightstand, and he feels a warm rush of affection for his attentive husband. He takes advantage of his sleeping state to take a good look at his relaxed face. There's nothing about it Buck doesn't love, from his dark eyebrows to his angular nose to the sweet curve of his mouth. There are little rays of sun escaping through the curtains and falling on Tommy's frame, making his few grays shine beautifully. 

Before he gives into the temptation of running a hand through Tommy's hair and wake him up, Buck gets out of bed and goes downstairs, set on making breakfast for himself and his overworked husband.

He tries to be as silent as possible as he moves around their spacious kitchen (it was the one thing he had been set on when they were house hunting; Tommy's was a spacious garage, and eventually they'd found the perfect place for a very fair price once Tommy's old house entered the deal), turning on the coffee maker, sorting ingredients for breakfast and realizing they're out of cinnamon. Knowing full well that Tommy will whine about his french toast if there's no cinnamon, Buck opts for pancakes instead.

Buck prepares the batter while humming to himself, thinking about what dessert he can take to their family dinner at Maddie and Chim’s later that day. Just as he starts pouring batter into the frying pan, he feels strong arms around his waist, and he doesn’t even pretend to startle; it’s not the first morning he’s greeted like this. Buck leans back against Tommy’s strong chest, and Tommy nuzzles against his neck. 

“Morning, sweetheart” He whispers sleepily against Buck’s neck, sending a shiver down his spine as he presses small kisses on his skin. 

“You’re gonna make me burn breakfast” He teases, and is met with a huffed laughter against his shoulder. 

“So we eat out” Tommy answers, his arms still gripping Buck’s waist, and it takes all of his strength (and the reminder they’ll probably have sex right after breakfast anyway) to playfully tap the spatula against Tommy’s hands so he’ll let go. 

“Behave, mr. Kinard” He scolds, and Tommy places a loud kiss on his cheek (and a slap on his ass) before letting go, grabbing plates and mugs on his way to the table. 

“I always behave, mr. Kinard” Tommy says, wiggling his eyebrows, and Buck doesn’t think he’ll ever get completely used to the thrill he gets to be called ‘mr. Kinard’. Tommy knows it, the bastard, and his smirk makes it pretty clear. “It’s not my fault you look particularly hot in my T-shirt”

Buck looks down at himself, realizing Tommy’s right. He barely notices anymore which clothes are his and which are Tommy’s, especially when it comes to LAFD gear, but the Bon Jovi faded black T-shirt is definitely not his. 

“Well, I look even better with no T-shirt on, if you wanna see what that’s like” He flirts teasingly, and tries for a casual one-handed flip on the pancake he’s frying right now. Except it doesn’t go that well, and the pancake lands directly on the stove instead of the pan. “Oh, shit!” 

He rushes to fix it and throws the ruined pancake out before it gets even worse. When he looks at Tommy, he finds his husband barely containing his laughter, which makes Buck point a firm finger at him with a glare.

“Shut up” He says, and Tommy raises his hands in mock defense.

“I didn’t say anything!” 

“Keep it that way” Buck threatens, and Tommy mockingly zips his mouth as he takes their mugs to the coffee maker and prepares both of their coffees (and there’s something in the way he does it that makes it even better than when Buck prepares his own).

Once the pancakes are ready (no more flipping incidents, Buck finished it pretty conservatively), Buck brings them to the table, where Tommy has already placed syrup and some butter. They sit down one in front of the other and share a smile before digging in, in comfortable silence. 

“This is so good, babe” Tommy tells him between mouthfuls, and Buck hums appreciatively. “You spoil me, you know? I never have breakfast this good at the station”

“I like spoiling you” Buck says earnestly, and Tommy blushes, a small smile appearing on his face. Sometimes it’s still hard for him to accept hard things, but Buck keeps reassuring him; it’s a work in progress. “I was gonna make your French toast, but we’re out of cinnamon, and you always say…”

“French toast is no good without cinnamon” Tommy finishes, and Buck swears there’s a beginning of a pout on his face; maybe there’s some truth about married couples picking up habits from each other. “Did you add it to the list? We’re going grocery shopping later, right?”

“Yup” Buck agrees, taking a sip of his coffee (damn perfect, as always). “And tonight we’re on for dinner at Maddie’s, don’t forget”

“So, groceries and family dinner” Tommy recaps. “Any other plans for the day?”

“Not really. Thought we could just… spend it together?” Buck suggests. 

Sometimes they’ll spend their days off with Eddie (and Chris if he doesn’t have cooler teenage stuff to do and deems them worthy of his presence), or Jee and little Kevin, and it’s great fun. But there’s also something pretty special about just basking in each other’s company all day, be it running errands or cleaning the house or having sex or just staying on the couch, Buck on his phone and Tommy with a book. 

“Sounds perfect to me” Tommy answers gleefully, and he takes Buck’s hand in his, pressing a gentle kiss to his knuckles. “Any day with you is perfect”

And gosh, that’s sappy. But damn if it doesn’t make Buck smile like a lovesick idiot. Because his husband is a complete sap and he wouldn’t have it any other way.

[loonavrsl]

241128 [💌] Yves' letter to fans for her 7th debut anniversary

Hi! I just arrived home after finishing dance lessons. It's a pity to have the day pass by as soon as I arrive, and so I write. It had snowed just like this, on that day. Coming home while stepping on the soft snow, I briefly glimpsed my past self. I used to get called over by teachers at school and be scolded for grasping at clouds, because I wanted to become a singer. On the two-hour ride home aboard the 1002 bus, the pitch-black darkness outside the window seemed just like my future. What if I really was chasing clouds? Those times, seemingly in my grasp but never quite, would always scatter like the morning fog. Meanwhile, I shed my school uniform and the first digit of my age changed, but my days were cruel. I'd walk an hour's distance to save money on fares, shedding the snow piled up on my shoulders and listening to Haseul's "Let Me In". I vividly remember myself wiping the damp screen with shattering cold hands, looking at that album cover again and again, running to my part-time job. I don't think I could ever forget being accepted to the company I'd been rejected from twice, and coming face-to-face with Haseul. I think it was an incredibly big happiness to be able to do the music I like, together with the precious relationships that I'd never have met if it wasn't for the group. True happiness can only be felt after experiencing misfortune, did they say? Maybe the heavens were jealous, or maybe I did wrongs in my past life, but after spending a year that felt like a decade, I was standing on the stage alone. They also say that no pain is meaningless. Even though my past self may have been upset, I'm assured that that has made me a little more sturdy and resilient. But why does a corner of my heart ache. Perhaps it is aimed towards you all. Have you ever seen a shooting star? When I blew out my birthday candles, I'd often try to get as many wishes in as possible and the candle would drip onto the cake. One night, at the shooting star rushing towards me in the sky I'd just looked up at, I wished without hesitation: 'Please let everyone be happy'. I don't know if that wish is still valid, but like the meteor headed to me then, perhaps I too am rushing towards that happiness that I don't know of yet. Please don't hate me. I am not a bad person. Tonight, I hear those words that I endlessly repeated and repeated inside myself for six years, like an echo. Now, when the vestige of those echoes fade, I want to speak anew in a calm voice. Thank you for loving me. Someday, when this resonance ends, I'd like to impart another new set of words to you. On this silent night with the world covered in white snow, leaving my clamorous heart behind; to you, to whom I want to give only love.

Translation by: litell_johnn

[rainbowfish3iswriting]

So I had another wonderful idea while at work.

We love Peter Parker in Gotham fics where Dick Grayson is Peter’s biological father. Peter has no idea what Gotham is and hates he’s in New Jersey. Meeting the Batfam, finding out his bio dad is alive in this universe, and the angst that goes along with Peter getting to know his dead dad.

Now let me introduce a concept that can crush hearts. ❤️

So what if, before Peter Parker arrives in Gotham, before the events of No Way Home, Dick has a kid, his own Peter. It doesn’t matter how he came to be or who the mom is. Dick has a kid and he loves him. The kid doesn’t have to be named Peter but he’s an alternative version of Peter.

Sadly, Dick’s son dies at a young age. How he dies can be something as simple as a car accident or drowning to something extremely like The Joker blowing up a school and his son was inside.

Dick’s son is dead, taken too soon from this world.

So here comes Peter Parker. Who’s a homeless teenager who is trying to survive Gotham on his own after being thrown out of his own universe.

The Batfam meet Peter in and out of costume and it’s Tim who makes the connection. He’s staring at Peter and thinks: Would my nephew look like Peter if he grew up to be a teen? This triggers a reaction inside Tim, because why dose this kid look like an older version of his nephew?? And the more he studies Peter, the more he sees the resemblance of his late nephew. Same hair, same eyes, same nose shape!

Tim decides to look up Peter Parker, mostly to end the nagging thoughts that the homeless teen is his dead nephew. Peter seems like a private person, doesn’t talk much about his personal life. All they know he’s a teen from Queens, New York whose family is all dead. But when Tim looks him up, he can’t find anything on this kid! No social media! No obituaries about his dead relatives! He finds Peter’s birth certificate (didn’t help he has the same birthday as his dead nephew’s), social security number, and other legal documents that are all fake! They’re forgeries and they’re really good forgeries! Tim almost passed them off as real.

This is bad! This kid has fake documents! Why would a homeless teenager have fake documents??! Why dose a teen who looks like his dead nephew have fake documents??!

Holy SHIT! Someone must of cloned his nephew!!!

No this can’t be right? Who on earth is sick enough to do that!? (A lot of people) Tim meets Peter again and gets his DNA without the teen noticing. This will prove once and for all this kid isn’t a clone of his dead nephew, his fears can be put to rest, he can focus on more important matters. Like why dose Peter have fake documents?

It’s 100% match, Tim cries.

Tim gets the familiar together and explains his findings. Everyone is freaking out. Dick is angry and devastated, that someone took his child’s DNA and cloned him. He also feels hope. Even through the kid may be a clone, it’s still his son at the end of the day. this could be Dicks only chance to have his son back, even if it’s not his real kid.

Fast forward to the Batfam managing to take (kidnapped) Peter to the manor where the reveal everything to him. ( Doesn’t help that his dead dad is alive and in front of them) The news confuses and overwhelms the kid.

Clone?? They really thought he was a clone??!

After Peter recovers from the shock, he finally tells them the truth. That he’s not a clone, but is from a different dimension. He explains his whole life story to the bats.

It ends with Dick and Peter getting to know one another. Their share lose of family not only helps them bond but also heal wounds that they never realized were there until now.

[rottiens]

red in his cheeks, green in his eyes┊i. rin

✮ tags. . (18+), fluff (sfw), not established relationship, all characters are adults. no use of pronouns but afab!reader in mind, reader wears a dress and earrings.

✮ summary. . you always enjoy making your soon-to-be boyfriend blush; it's so simple that it's become a habit.

✮ wc. . 1k

✮ notes. . i want to make him blush and make him so uncomfortable that he doesn't know what to do with himself, my bad lskd | divider creds: cafekitsune.

Rin Itoshi is many things.

Some people may point out how good a soccer player he is, others will comment that he is cold and unfriendly. If you ask him himself he will tell you that he is (probably) resentful and vengeful.

However to you, while many of these things are true (especially the part about him being cold), you will highlight how good of a listener he is, especially since he prefers to stay quiet while listening to you direct the conversation where you want it to go and how you want it to go, providing occasional monosyllables or some vibration that comes from his throat rather than his chest. He will make contributions to the conversation about his personal life or his day exclusively if you ask directly about it.

Although the last few weeks, he has been a bit more talkative than usual (that is, complete sentences without you having to ask him about his day first).

Rin is someone sweet, at least in his own way. His good listening makes him surprise you with details you're not expecting, like remembering important dates or little details of what you told in a babbling outburst that you barely remember now and you like him, you genuinely do. You're able to see through him, really see what's hidden in his chest behind those layers of hatred and rancor that hide pain and Rin hates it.

Among the long list of things he hates, is your way of being able to read him so easily. Recognizing why there are wrinkles on his forehead, his wrinkled nose or pursed lips. He dislikes how gentle you are when you approach him, you treat him with the same gentleness in which a butterfly would sit on a flower and that settles his stomach, tightens his gut and makes him feel sick; to the point where he claims he has a fever, it's not normal the way his whole body suddenly starts to burn, his forehead and ears, his neck and chest tight, along with sweaty palms.

He dislikes how nice you are to others when most don't deserve it and also how pretty you look when you wear those summer dresses because they make others look, when no one else should be able to admire how beautiful you are.

There are many things Rin detests about himself, his brother and certain parts of your personality, but never you, or your presence in his room late at night or your high, excited laughter that comes straight from your stomach. He could never hate you, not when you look at him like you do now, with dilated pupils and eyes full of genuine concern. He didn't remember what it was like to be treated like that, not at least not since he was a child.

“You didn't have to come see me.” Rin says it more out of concern —you are sick, after all— but he tries to sound nonchalant, ignoring the incessant drumming of his heart. His crossed arms rest against his chest as he leans his body weight against the wall.

“Of course I had to, it's your last game, I had to come give you your good luck gift,” you say, a smile etched into your words and with a voice heavy with a cold, you almost sound like you just woke up.

It's halftime, and Rin has slipped out of the locker room so he can see you in the semi-dark hallway. Even in the poor lighting, the earrings he gave you for your birthday sparkle with excitement, a nice touch that goes so well with your impish smile and the outfit you've chosen for him.

“Gift?” His greenish eyes go to yours after scanning (he hopes slyly) your figure.

“Hm.” You purr as you lean in a little closer, invading his personal space. You take his arm, freeing it from the shield that covered his ribs, to intertwine your fingers with his. That simple contact is enough for the dizziness and numbness to take hold of him again.

His fingers tighten under the heat of your touch. And when you lean in for a quick kiss, his whole body stiffens, his eyes open wider, unlike yours. You're so close he can feel your chest press against his, as your perfume envelops him with a familiar warmth. Your lips linger together for an instant, not deepening the kiss that seems to be the promise of something more.

You've been dating for a few weeks, though calling it “dating” is debatable. You're still in that unlabeled limbo where you're two friends holding hands, shopping together, going to the movies, and occasionally sharing a kiss. Sometimes you'd like to know what Rin is thinking….

“If you win you'll have more of these,” as you pull away from him you lick your bottom lip, still tasting him in your mouth.

…Especially at times like these, where his cheeks are so red from a simple touch, where he knows how to hide his nervousness so well and yet his face always gives it away.

His eyes drift to the end of the hallway, to where the light of the stadium devours the shadows. From there, the bustle of the stands comes muffled, almost drowned out by the buzz of adrenaline coursing through your body.

Rin pulls away, pushing aside the fingers you had grabbed and allowing them to return to their usual space, on his chest. Then he heads toward the locker room, perhaps to wipe off his sweat and get some water before returning to the field. Before disappearing completely, he stops to look at you. Your hands hang clasped together, and your smile —that smile that warms his body— seems to light up as if all the lights are on you.

“Watch me score the next goal for you.” Your smile widens, revealing your pearly teeth, and Rin wants to die right there. The next words he tries to say get stuck in his throat a couple of times, as if an invisible hand is squeezing his neck.

“You look beautiful,” he says, with a heated face. “But I'm still pissed that you're here while you're still sick.” And maybe, just maybe, those are the most romantic words you've heard from him in weeks.

You know how hard it is for Rin to open up and express how he feels. Even so, you're willing to wait for him until he's ready to admit what you both already know. In the meantime, you'll continue to relish every opportunity to make him blush or feel uncomfortable in the sweetest way possible.

[lara4eclipze]

›› there must be a good reason that you're gone

sypnosis -» we don't talk anymore like we used to do , what was all of it for?

beware -» angst , nasty break up , going against girl code(?) , twice mentioned, lara x reader mentioned

talks -» for my anon 🫢!! hi missed you soo much

taglist (open) : @nyssalvr @ohmyhaely @vrtualstar @jellaaa @c-yerim

you don't know where you went wrong — did you give too little love? did you not give her enough attention? yet as much as you asked yourself nothing came up nothing answered you

moments that lingered in your mind made it seem like you were the problem yet you never were , sophia has never been loyal as much as you tried to make it seem like , she's always behind your back talking to a new woman

you only reached your breaking point when she started forgetting important dates such as your birthday, your anniversary and the day you both made it official

"now the maknae! hello y/n , the question for you is , have you ever broken up with someone and how did it go" the interviewer asks as he approached you

"이 질문에 대답할 수 있나요? (can we answer this)" nayeon asks looking behind the cameras towards their manager who just nods

"ohh , well uhm I have had one and it really was a bit messy , yet I think that was a very good lesson for me" you answer recalling everything that happened during that night , "우리 막내가 다 컸네요! (our maknae is all grown up)" jihyo says giggling as the rest say all their memories when you first debuted

"that sums it up, again twice everyone!" the host says before you and your group bid goodbye , " one in a million! we are twice!" the group says "우리 새 노래를 들어주세요 Strategy! (please listen to our new song strategy)" momo says before the cameras cut

ᯓ ᡣ𐭩

after the program you secretly went out to meet your now girlfriend lara , after the break up you didn't really know what to do but good thing she was there and from that point forward you both started dating

"hi love!" you said hugging lara as she ran up to you to hug you as well , "I missed you! , anyways let's go?" lara asks leading you inside the kats dorm

inside the dorm you were greeted by manon who was sitting down watching some tiktoks "hey" you greet

finally making it to lara's room she sits you down on her bed as she takes a seat on your lap, "so you miss me?" you ask cocky about her missing you , "obviously miss y/n" she replied

just before both your lips touch the door opens with sophia oblivious that you were here , "lara have you seen my- oh sorry" she says looking at the scene before her you and lara just being lovey dovey , suddenly the whole mood changed lara was now on the bed next to you sensing the unease , as sophia exits you two let out a heavy sigh

"baby I feel guilty, I mean she's my friend and I date her ex?" lara admits you look at the frown on her lips you held her face with your hands making her look at you "baby I understand , but know that she did something I probably won't forgive her for"

"ill never do that to you" lara says

"I hope not , that's the exact words sophia said" you chuckle remembering the countless lies she told you

ᯓ ᡣ𐭩

it was late yet you couldn't sleep so you left lara on the bed to get some water , at the kitchen was her , sophia

"hey" she greets , you took note of how she was still wearing the bracelet you gave her for your first monthsary

"hello , just need some water" you replied awkwardly , you get to the fridge and take out lara's water bottle and drink out of it

you were walking back by this point , but you hear sophia mutter something , "I'm sorry , could you maybe give me a second chance?"

"no soph , I'm tired plus me and lara are together , I've never felt any better with anyone else" you replied trying your best not to look at her , and just continue walking

"how is that okay? — we break up and you get with my friend? , how fucked up is that?" she reasons as you hear her sniffle

"soph , you cannot be talking about what's fucked up when you cheated on me , fuck I'm not gonna have this conversation again, goodnight" you replied mad at her audacity to get upset over you picking lara , yet you didn't mention that instead going inside the girls room

"babe? — where'd you go?" lara asks in a groggy voice as she opens her eyes , you're so glad you chose the woman who knows how to treat you

"just drank some water love" you replied trying not to sound like you just finished crying , you both lay down with her in the crook of your neck as she hums a gentle tune

"I love you so much" you whisper as you place a kiss on her head

[myokk]

HOLA! ❤️ First of all, dropping some kudos because I love you and your art so much (basically my blog can be your side blog too at this point!) ❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️

Second, from the character ask, I'd like to know about 3,4 and 20 for both Eloise and Leo 😁

Hope you have a wonderful day/night!

HOLA MI ITALIANA FAVORITA💓​ I APOLOGIZE IN ADVANCE FOR ALL OF THE YAPPING I'M ABOUT TO DO🤭​ will this get you to finally visit me🥺​

I'm going to answer these for Eloise SINCE I already did 3 for Leo & I have someone asking me about 4 for Leo as well🥺💓

3) What was the first thing you decided on, the character's name, appearance, personality or their role in the story?

This is a tricky answer…just bc my evil gremlin mc in the game has NOTHING to do with Eloise in my writing. I guess I would say her name? I was just thinking of what would be the most British sounding name I could think of when I started playing in December🙂‍↕️

But then my imagination took hold of me…I started thinking about Eloise’s backstory…and when I thought of how all of her family dynamics/how she grew up would influence her personality I started to be really dissatisfied with the game and the lack of choice we have while playing. SO I gave up on the game completely after the restricted section quest and started to use my free time to write my fic in January🥹🫶 but her backstory, personality, and role in my story are definitely the most interesting things about her to me!!

Bonus: my first ever drawings of her in January!!! Bad quality bc it’s an insta story screenshot😆💓 (I redid one for my fic🤭)

4) And reverse, which one of the four things did you struggle with the most?

Hmmmmm😭😭 I think her personality is what I struggled with the most and continue to struggle with as I write!!!! I always want her to feel like a *real* person with flaws, but ALSO convey to the reader why they should love her as much as I do. I think I’m successful bc I get comments/messages a lot from people telling me how much she resonates with them (and she’s some people’s favorite???😳💘) but I STILL CANT HELP BUT FEEL INSECURE ABOUT IT !!! It’s so hard sometimes keeping in mind how she is and how she thinks, and I never want her to be wishy-washy or doing things out of character for her. It’s a fun challenge but a challenge😭💓 (also her appearance changes like crazy in my art but whatever I’m learning😆)

20) bonus: share any additional thoughts, art, favorite scenes, anything you’ve been waiting for a chance to ramble about.

DES YOU REALLY WANTED ME TO YAP WHEN YOU SENT THIS MESSAGE😆😆😆😆😆

I really, REALLY want to yap about the foreshadowing and scenes I’m working towards in my fic BUT IVE ONLY TALKED TO LIKE ONE OR TWO PEOPLR ABOUT MY PLANS ( @choccy-milky & @kay9leo 🤭🤭) AND I DONT WANT TO SPOIL ANYTHING EVEN THOUGH I DONT HAVE MANY READERS😆😆😆😆😆😆😆 maybe in the future…

This is me redrawing the chess scene from my fic bc I’m really dissatisfied with how Seb looks in the original (he’s probably my LEAST FAVORITE TO DRAW BC IT’S IMPOSSIBLE !!!!!!!)

And ummmm….hmmm Eloise is DEFINITELY not a self-insert character to me, but I DID give her aspects of myself. Things like…we have the same birthday (January 31) and eye color (dark green), and I tend to overthink a lot and can be in my own head maybe too much, but I’m ALSO a lot more assertive and gremlin than she is😆😆😆😆 I love the fact that she’s so soft and sweet💓💓💓 & I just want to wrap her up in a big hug and never let go of her🥺🤲

(Imelda is my self-insert tbh…and this moment in my fic was ME😤:

At the sight of Imelda's worried face her throat contracted - Eloise found she couldn't speak - and she burst into tears again. They were rolling, hot and salty, down her cheeks and she hid her crumpled face back into the crooks of her arms. Imelda immediately wrapped her arms around Eloise, and she melted into her friend's embrace. Hands gently stroking her hair as she cried and cried and cried, murmurs whispered in soft Spanish to the top of her head.

She was overwhelmed, desolate, lonely.

I feel really bad for Eloise at this point in her story, but I also find it really interesting to keep poking her to see when she finally snaps and decides that she NEEDS to stand up for herself and what she wants. She hasn’t quite realized that she’s the only one who’s ultimately in charge of her life & I’m really really enjoying watching her become the person she’s meant to be🥹🫶🥹🫶

[aithusarosekiller]

I saw your Jegulus post about them not being the typical teenage romance and can I just give you a double high five in agreement! I then HAD to find one of many moments I've written for them which exemplify this and share it with you. And this one is the one I settled on. Remus' POV, year five for the Marauders, year four for Regulus. Context is, this is the first time Remus has spent time with James and Regulus together after discovering their secret relationship. It's James' birthday and Lily wants James occupied all day so she can prep for his party. Lily also knows about James and Regulus BTW, makes contextual sense in the story (Sirius does not know, doesn't apply to this scene though).

Hope you enjoy. :)

>>><<<

There were people who loved each other, like Remus loved Sirius. He would have handed Sirius his body, heart, and soul. He loved him with every ounce of his being. And yet… There were people who loved each other, and then there was James and Regulus.

Remus could think of no other way to describe it. They weren’t two hearts beating for each other. They were the void between heartbeats. They occupied the infinitesimal moment as an inhale became an exhale. They were two people, who shared a single soul. And being around them was both intoxicating and strange. Remus felt like if he breathed too hard in their direction he’d mess with their air, which was exactly perfect between them as their breaths mingled. For surely two people so melded would only breathe the air of the other. And then they would poke fun at each other and their aura would brighten, literally bringing each into sharper visual focus, before it blurred again as they melted back into each other. 

They didn’t even have to be touching (though they nearly always were) for this phenomenon to take place. And for half the day Remus thought he was merely groggy from the Pamoja wielding. He thought his brain was sending him confused signals as he watched James and Regulus be James and Regulus. 

But a massive lunch, plenty of teenage goofing off, and exploring the surrounding forest left him with a very clear mind and the same mental signals. At which point Remus decided James and Regulus were an exhibition in their own category of relationship, absolutely unique to them. Love was not the word he would use to describe them. It was so much more. They filled the spaces no one else even noticed. And it merged their existence into a single organism. 

It was fucking intense. 

After they parted ways, as James and Remus continued up to the castle together, Remus said tentatively, “hey, so is it always like that?”

“What do you mean?” asked James absently. 

“Er, do you really not know.”

James glanced over at him. “It’s always like that, yeah.”

“Bloody hell.” Remus couldn’t get a good read on James’ face for they were walking side by side, but he thought James might be smiling. “I knew he had to be something special and way more substantial than he looks to withstand your affection, but Godric James. I don’t even know what to call that. I’m not sure it’s physically sustainable.”

“He’s my star.”

“Mate, he’s your fucking universe.”

James playfully threw out an elbow and definitely didn’t look at Remus. 

“What can I say, we are infinite. Don’t look so scandalized, you and Sirius aren’t so different.”

“No, we are very different. We exist in the physical world James. You two are already way out there in your own orbit.”

“See why I can’t lose him.”

They took several paces before Remus spoke.

“James, I’m scared for you. That kind of connection has to be dangerous.”

“Want to stop and have a smoke?”

“Took the words right out of my mouth mate.”

<3

JUST REMEMBERED I HAD THIS IN MY INBOX FOR AGES I AM SO SORRY IT TOOK SO LONG TO RESPOND TO THIS

But honestly it's one of my favourite things about them, the poetic quality makes it feel like they're finding each other again just when they need it at the same time as we're finding them when WE need it, you know?

That's so real though, the idea of the two of them being able to almost spiritually feed off of each other's presence is so true. Like existence is centred around them for a moment. They take over everything.

And it's probably bad in the long run but it's so beautiful that the pain is okay. Because without all of the painful bits, were the good parts really all that valuable?

Also I love your style, it feels real and almost factual if that makes sense? Even when you're describing metaphysical aspects the certainty gives a strong feeling of truth and rationality. I like it.

[ikkyfics]

Peter Maximoff x fem!reader 

Summary: Peter stays by your side, bringing comfort, teasing, and a love that feels like home 

Warnings: fluffy, light teasing, emotional comfort, mild suggestive language, established relationship, hurt&comfort 

A/N: This was my first request and I was so excited! I hope you like it (and damn, I'm head over heels in love with it) 

Materlist

ılı.lıllılı.ıllı.ılı.lıllılı.ıllı

It was hard to explain how someone like Peter had become the most important person in your life. He was a force of nature: fast, unpredictable, and impossible to ignore. From the day you met, he had never seemed afraid of you. 

No, in fact, he found your power fascinating. It was strange, honestly, especially after spending years surrounded by people who feared to hear your voice. Your parents always suspected, but it wasn’t until your ninth birthday, when you showed up with a brand-new BMW in front of the house – just a simple request and the salesman himself drove the car over – that they knew their little girl was not like the other kids. 

“You have a voice that can make anyone do whatever you want? What kind of comic book villain are you?” he teased at your first meeting, a mischievous grin spreading across his face as he leaned in closer, his dark eyes shining with curiosity. 

“I’m not a villain, Peter,” you replied, crossing your arms in mock indignation. 

“Oh, sure, Miss ‘do as I say.’ And I’m Captain America.” He shrugged, as if it were the most obvious thing in the world. “If it were me, I’d make people bring me food all the time. Or let me win at Pong.” 

“You don’t even need help with that, cheater.” 

He laughed, tilting his head to the side as if about to respond, but instead, just looked at you for a few seconds. “I think that’s what I like about you,” he said suddenly, the tone surprisingly serious. “You stand up to me. It’s cool.” 

You tried to hide the heat rising to your cheeks, but something in that moment stayed with you. Peter never looked at you like someone dangerous or different. To him, you were just… you. 

And he never changed. 

The years passed, and Peter continued to be the same boy who was impossible to keep up with. He spoke too fast, thoughts racing faster than his words, and loved to tease you. 

“Are you really going to pretend you didn’t hear me?” he said, leaning against the doorframe, holding a Twinkie like it was a prize. “I know you’re in there. I’m going to count to three… One… Two—” 

“Peter, if you annoy me, I swear I’ll make you leave here singing Abba in the square.” You hoped your voice sounded like a real threat, even though a smile fought to spread across your face. 

“Oh, the power of the magic voice.” He rolled his eyes, taking an exaggerated bite of the sweet, cream smearing across his lips. “I knew I should’ve brought earplugs. What an amateur I am.” 

And you just laughed, shaking your head as he kept talking, always jumping from one thought to the next without pause. 

Your friendship was like that: full of teasing, laughter, and an intimacy that felt natural. It was easy to be with Peter, easy to forget the complicated world outside when he was by your side. 

On that particular night, in the basement of his mother’s house, you realized just how much he meant to you. You had spent hours together, surrounded by old pillows and wrapped in the soundtrack Peter insisted was “essential to understand the decade.” 

“You have to admit, Bowie is a genius,” he said, pointing at the tape player like it was a work of art. 

“I admit he’s good,” you replied, raising an eyebrow. “But not as good as Queen.” 

“What?” Peter placed a hand on his heart, pretending to be offended. “Take that back now, or I’ll be forced to challenge you to a Pong duel!” 

“You always want Pong,” you muttered, but the challenge in his eyes made you laugh. 

You spent what felt like hours playing and arguing about bands while sharing the almost endless supply of sweets he always hid. After a lot of laughter and sugar, you both fell asleep side by side in the middle of the mess. 

You woke up first, senses still numb. It took a moment to realize where you were, who you were with. Peter’s arms were wrapped tightly around you, holding you close to his chest. His breath tickled the top of your head, and you could feel each rise and fall as he inhaled and exhaled. It was a feeling... good. Being held so tightly by him. You sighed, pressing your face into the curve of his neck. There was something there, a scent mixed with the warmth of his skin, that made your heart race. 

Without realizing it, you gently pressed your nose to the soft flesh, letting his scent fill your lungs. The skin felt so soft, so smooth. What would it feel like to slide your lips across it? The thought triggered an alert in your mind. Friends didn’t think these things. 

“Hmm… you’re smelling my neck now?” he murmured, his voice still rough with sleep sending shivers down your spine, making you feel even guiltier. 

You pulled back as if you’d been shocked. “I… No!” 

He opened one eye, the familiar glint of teasing starting to show. “Of course not. Didn’t notice a thing.” 

You huffed, pushing his shoulder, determined to put some distance between you. “Stop, Peter.” 

He laughed, but you felt the heat in your face as you looked away. Because, at that moment, you realized something you had been trying to ignore: you were in love with your best friend. Was there a greater tragedy? 

And that thought stayed with you ever since, buried too deep for him to notice. Because, deep down, you knew Peter had always been the kind of person who could pull a smile out of you, even on your worst days.    (...) 

The week had been a real nightmare. 

Since Monday, obligations seemed to pile up like an avalanche. Exhausting training sessions with the team, a particularly complicated mission involving a hostage rescue at an enemy base, and the weight of final college exams. Even your powers weren’t much help—quite the opposite. Convincing someone to cooperate with your siren voice required extreme mental control, and using it during the mission only added to the emotional exhaustion you were already carrying. 

“You’ve got this, Siren’s Tear,” Kurt joked, trying to lighten the mood as he adjusted the communicator. 

You smiled at him, but the smile didn’t reach your eyes. Siren’s Tear. It was a nickname Peter had made up, a mix of joke and admiration that had spread among the X-Men. Normally, it made you smile. But this week, it felt like an extra weight. 

The mission had been chaos. Explosions, confrontations, and life-or-death decisions in a matter of seconds. Even with Kurt’s teleportation and Ororo’s storm control, the enemies were better prepared than expected. You found yourself cornered more than once, forcing your voice to a dangerous limit to make guards lower their weapons. When it was all over, you could barely stand. 

And yet, there was the rest of the week waiting for you: piled-up studying, reports for Professor Xavier, and a persistent feeling of inadequacy that whispered you never did enough. 

When Saturday finally arrived, your body and mind were at their breaking point. All you wanted was a moment of peace, a break from missions, responsibilities, and any reminder of how difficult it was to balance the two lives you led. 

It was in this state that Peter showed up. 

You barely had time to process his entrance, as he appeared the way he always did—unannounced, without ceremony, with that playful smile plastered across his face. He held a bag of Twinkies in his right hand and a copy of Space Invaders in the left, as if there was no chance in the world you wouldn’t want to spend the next few hours with him. 

“Hey, Siren’s Tear, missed you,” he said, completely ignoring the pitiful state you were in. He threw the bag of snacks on the sofa and started rummaging through the stuff on the table, talking so fast you could barely keep up. “I thought maybe we could relax a bit. I know you’ve had a crazy week, but guess who got the highest score at the arcade? Me. Of course, it was me. And I thought—” 

“Peter…” you started, your voice hoarse from the repeated use of your power over the past few days. The pressure in your head was so intense you could almost imagine it exploding. 

“—that maybe you could try to beat my record. But good luck, because I’m unstoppable. Seriously, they should rename the game ‘Peter’s Challenge’. What do you think?” 

“Peter, stop.” You looked at him with no trace of humor. 

He finally looked at you, confused, but with that smile still there, as if he couldn’t imagine that you weren’t on the same wavelength as him. 

“Are you okay?” he asked, tilting his head, his dark eyes like coal examining you from head to toe. “You look like you could use a Twinkie. Or two.” 

You closed your eyes, trying to take a deep breath, but fatigue and irritation finally broke through your self-control. 

“I don’t need Twinkies, Peter!” you exploded, your voice louder than ever. “I need a minute of peace! Just one minute, without you talking nonstop, without you messing everything up, without you… Without you annoying me! Can you just disappear for a while?!” 

The room fell into absolute silence. Both surprised, not knowing how to react. You had never shouted at him, not really. The weight of your words made your shoulders sink, a bitter taste in your mouth. 

His eyes were wide, surprised, as if he couldn’t believe what he had just heard. Peter Maximoff, the boy who never stopped talking, was speechless. 

You realized the gravity of what you’d said in the same instant, but before you could try to fix it, he took a step back, the usual smile replaced by something much sadder and more vulnerable. You had never seen him look so sad. Regret made your stomach burn. 

“Wow,” he murmured, his voice low and hesitant, fingers fidgeting nervously. “I… didn’t know you could be influential without your powers.” He commented, his voice dry and brittle. 

You opened your mouth to say something, anything, but he raised a hand, as if asking you to stop. 

“It's okay,” he said, forcing a smile that didn’t reach his eyes. “I’ll do what you want. I’ll disappear.” 

“Peter, don’t—” He disappeared long before you could finish your sentence. 

The characteristic sound of his speed faded as quickly as he did, leaving only a heavy silence behind. 

You stood there, frozen in the middle of the room, your hand still extended in the air, the words you wanted to say stuck in your throat. An overwhelming wave of guilt washed over you, along with the emptiness left by him. Tears came before you could stop them, flowing hot and silent as you collapsed onto the bed. 

Why did you have to explode at him? Why did you have to hurt the one person who always made a point of being by your side, even when you didn’t want to be? 

You knew Peter had good intentions. He always had. He just didn’t know how to show them the right way. 

But now, he was hurt. 

And for the first time, you felt completely alone. 

(...) 

Three days. 

Three days without a sign of Peter. 

The Xavier mansion, always so full of life, felt suffocating now. You could barely look at the familiar faces around you without feeling a tightness in your chest. Everything seemed darker, slower, as if the world were mirroring the whirlwind inside you. 

The others noticed, of course. 

“Are you okay?” Jean asked, her voice soft as she touched your shoulder. You just shook your head, unable to respond. There were no words for the weight of regret you felt. 

Even Logan, always so distant, paused as he walked past you in the hallway and gave you a concerned look. “If you need anything, anything at all, let me know,” he said, his voice low and serious. 

But nothing helped. 

You barely ate, barely slept. When you closed your eyes, all you saw was Peter’s face, the sad smile he tried to hide before disappearing. 

“I’ll do what you want. I’ll disappear.” 

His words echoed in your mind like a curse, a constant reminder that you had done what you never thought was possible: pushed Peter Maximoff away. 

He had always been there. From the first moment, when you arrived at the mansion nervous and lost, he was the first to break the ice. You were startled by his repeated closeness. One moment you were alone, and the next he was right in front of you, all silver hair and easy smiles. 

“So, what’s your power?” He leaned in, eyes narrowed as he looked at you with interest. “Can you make people give you free pizza? Because that would be impressive.” 

It was a silly question, of course, but the way he said it—with that crooked smile and energy that was impossible to ignore—made you laugh for the first time in weeks. 

And from then on, he had been a constant in your life. 

You played Space Invaders until your hands hurt, stole treats from the kitchen on midnight missions, and spent hours in his basement (his mother’s) listening to records of bands he insisted were the best in the world. You knew he had tough moments, but he never let it show. He masked the pain with jokes and speed, and you loved him for it—the lightness he brought to your chaotic world. 

Now, his absence felt like a hole in your chest. 

On the third day, you were sitting on the living room sofa, staring at a book you hadn’t managed to get past the first paragraph, when you heard Kurt and Ororo talking in the distance. A draft of air carried his words to you. 

“Peter didn’t show up for training again today,” Kurt said, his voice full of concern. “This isn’t like him.” 

“He didn’t come to breakfast either,” Ororo replied. “Do you think he’s okay?” 

Your heart sank the moment their words reached you. It was as if the world had stopped, leaving only the deafening sound of guilt pounding in your ears. 

Peter wasn’t okay. 

You knew that. 

Rising, you left the room without saying a word, ignoring the curious looks from the others. Each step felt heavier than the last, but you knew what you needed to do. 

Deep down, you already knew where to find him. 

The Maximoff house had a peculiar charm that always made you smile. A mix of the '70s, nostalgia, and controlled chaos that perfectly suited Peter. But today, as you climbed the steps to the porch, your heart was too heavy to be swayed by the usual sense of comfort. 

At the door, holding the stack of sweets and the pizza box—the favorite of both of you, with extra pepperoni and that crispy crust Peter always called “a gift from the gods”—you took a deep breath before knocking. 

Mrs. Maximoff opened the door almost immediately, with her warm smile and curious eyes. “Oh, dear! It’s been a while since I’ve seen you!” she exclaimed, pulling you into a tight hug. 

“Hi, Mrs. Maximoff,” you said, trying to keep your voice steady. 

She stepped back, holding your face for a moment. “You look... tired. Are you okay?” 

“Yes, I’m fine. Actually, I came to see Peter.” 

Her expression softened, but her eyes shone with a touch of concern. “He’s in the basement. He spends most of his time down there lately.” She hesitated before adding, “He misses you, you know? And so do I. You bring good energy to this house.” 

Her words were simple, but they hit hard. You gave a small, shy smile and a “Thank you,” before heading down to the basement, your heart pounding too fast in your chest. 

As you descended the steps, a familiar soundtrack began to fill the space: the sound of an intense pinball game, interspersed with muffled music from a nearby radio. 

Peter was in his element. 

The first thing you noticed was the speed. He darted back and forth across the basement in a typical frenzy, alternating between playing the arcade game, taking bites of a Twinkie, and making quick adjustments to the stack of vinyl records by the old record player. 

For a moment, he passed by too quickly, the movement so fast it looked like a silver blur. But even so, he paused long enough to take a good look at you. He noticed the dark circles under your eyes, the tired expression, and, most of all, the look of regret that seemed to weigh on you like a second skin. And, of course, you still looked beautiful as always, in one of those summer dresses that left your shoulders and collarbone on full display. God, he loved those dresses, and loved seeing you wearing them even more. 

Peter went back to the arcade as if nothing had happened, but his game slowed down a bit, the movements less precise. It was enough for you to catch up. 

He looked the same as always, but completely different. There was a crease between his eyebrows, his hair was tousled, and he looked disheveled. 

You set the pizza and sweets on a makeshift table full of empty wrappers and called out, your voice wavering, “Peter, can we talk?” 

He stopped pressing the buttons but didn’t turn around right away. For a moment, he stood there, his shoulders rigid, before straightening and turning to face you. “Sure. I’m all ears.” You felt small under his gaze. 

The attempt to look nonchalant fooled no one. The tension in his jaw, the slight crease between his brows, and the arms crossed over his chest told another story. 

You stepped forward, hesitating, really trying to find the right words. “I came to apologize. I was wrong, Peter. I was exhausted and overwhelmed, but that’s no excuse for yelling at you. I... I hurt you, and I’m sorry. You’re my best friend and... I really want things to go back to normal. For us to go back to how we were before.” 

His eyes narrowed slightly, and he shook his head, letting out a long, heavy sigh. The gesture made your heart drop, as if you were falling off an endless cliff. 

“No,” he said, his voice low but firm. A punch to the stomach wouldn’t have hurt as much. 

“No?” you repeated, unable to hide the confusion and tightness that overtook you. Your heart sank in your chest, the feeling like falling. 

Peter rubbed the back of his neck, clearly uncomfortable, shifting his weight between his legs. “I don’t want things to go back to normal,” he explained, his voice even lower, almost a whisper. 

You blinked, completely bewildered. “What does that mean?” 

He took a step toward you but stopped, maintaining a small distance. His eyes met yours, and the intensity in his gaze made you hold your breath. 

“It means that I’m sorry too,” he began, his voice heavy with emotion. “I shouldn’t have provoked you like that, especially when you were already exhausted. But... I do it because...” He stopped, clearly struggling to find the right words. 

“Because what?” you urged, feeling your palms begin to sweat. 

This was it—Peter was a tiny step away from ruining everything again. But damn it, he had to risk it. He couldn’t just pretend he wanted to be just friends. How could he? It was painful to be so close and so far away at the same time. He needed more; he wanted more. 

“Because I like your attention, okay?” he finally blurted out, his voice louder than he intended. “I like when you look at me, even if it’s to tell me to shut up or roll your eyes. I like when you smile at my stupid jokes, even if you pretend you don’t find them funny. And, damn, I like being near you.” 

“Peter…” you began, but he raised a hand to interrupt you. 

“I know, I know,” he said, laughing nervously. “I’m terrible at this. That’s why I always hide everything behind jokes and teasing. But... it’s true. I like you. I really do. And I don’t want things to go back to normal, because, to be honest, ‘normal’ was never enough for me.” 

You stood still, each of his words piercing deep into your chest, but in a sweet, almost painful way. He was there, completely vulnerable, and you didn’t know if it was possible to love him more than you did at that moment. Your heart slammed against your ribs with each painful beat. 

He felt the same. Peter felt the same. 

You felt tears prick your eyes, but you kept your gaze locked on him, taking in every word. 

“You’re unbelievable, you know that?” you finally said, your voice heavy with emotion. 

He raised an eyebrow. “Is that good or bad?” 

“It’s annoying,” you replied, a small smile playing on your lips. “But it’s also… everything I needed to hear.” 

His eyes widened slightly, shocked by your confession. “Really?” 

You shrugged, feigning casualness, but your smile gave you away. “So, are you going to kiss me or keep stalling?” 

The surprise on his face turned into a mischievous grin. “Oh, so now it’s me who’s stalling?” 

“Peter,” you warned, but he was already closer, so fast that you barely noticed the movement. 

His hands cupped your face, purposefully slow, still with a small smile curled on his lips as he moved closer and closer. Your eyes closed as you felt his breath intertwine with yours, his sweet breath making you imagine that his mouth must be even sweeter. Gently, his lips molded to yours, remaining that way for a moment before he pulled back. You felt his chest rise and fall unevenly, as if he had run around the planet. Peter murmured something, too fast for your ears to understand. 

The next second his lips pressed against yours again, hungry. His hand went down your spine, firming on your waist to pull you closer, crushing you against his chest as his lips explored your mouth. You sighed as you felt his tongue, soft and warm, slide across yours, kissing you deeply. He kissed you for what could have been an eternity, stealing the air from your lungs, turning you into a fragile creature dependent on the caresses of that wicked mouth. 

When you separated, he refused to stop kissing you, rubbing his lips along your jaw, leaving love bites on the side of your neck, adoring every part of you, as if to make up for all the lost time. Small noises of pleasure escaped your mouth, your knees barely seemed capable of keeping you upright, so your hands quickly found support on his broad shoulders. “Peter.” You sighed weakly, feeling your face heat as he straightened, leveling your faces. His mouth was red and swollen, with a crooked smile, his eyes darker than ever. 

“I should do this more often,” he teased, his voice low and husky, his fingers still kneading the soft flesh of your waist. 

You rolled your eyes but couldn’t stop the smile. “Maybe.” 

He chuckled, gently brushing your hair away from your face, looking at you more closely. “You’re tired, aren’t you?” he asked, his tone more serious now. 

“A little,” you admitted, shrugging, afraid of ruining the moment. 

“Then I think it’s time for you to rest.” 

“But—” He didn’t allow any objections, guiding you to the bed nearby, wide enough for both of you. He settled down beside you, pulling you to lie against him. His fingers traced calming circles on your back. “You can’t send me away anymore, got it?” 

You nodded, your face pressed against the curve of his neck, inhaling the familiar scent that dulled your senses. The accumulated exhaustion finally began to ease. “But I can still make you dance to ABBA in the street.” You joked, smiling as he shuddered dramatically. 

“Do your worst, you little troublemaker.” He pressed a kiss to the top of your head, then another to your temple, and countless others until he reached your ear. “Ask me to stay,” he whispered, and just because he could, he nipped the sensitive skin just below. 

You shivered, holding him tighter in your arms, feeling his chest vibrate with a silent laugh. Raising your face, you used your siren voice. “Stay with me, Peter.” 

His eyes widened in surprise, staring at you for long seconds before his lips curled into a devilish grin. “Fuck, can you do that again? Please, we need to test your powers when—” 

“Peter.” You cut him off with a laugh, burying your face back against his chest, feeling your cheeks burn at the direction the conversation had taken. “Later, okay? Can we just rest now?” 

“You don’t have to ask twice, love.” 

The familiar sense of security you always felt around him returned in full force, but this time there was something more. Something deeper, more intimate. 

With your face pressed to his neck, you hesitated for a moment before placing a soft kiss there, a silent thank-you for everything he was. 

Peter tightened his embrace, and for the first time in days, you felt whole. 

[dcdreamblog]

do you have any tidbits about the Red Bee? I heard he died decades ago but I also saw some people claiming that he showed up a few years back helping that Peacemaker guy

Depending on someone's level of familiarity his entire life is a fun tidbit but I will do my best.

(Art piece of The Red Bee that adorns one wall of the Superior City Historic Society) Richard "Rick" Raleigh would have appeared to anyone who knew him as the most stand up kind of guy that existed at that time. The assistant DA in the booming pacific port town of Superior City. His only major quirk was a fascination with bees but hey, everyone has to have a hobby right? No one knows for sure what caused his turn to crime fighting, as I've stated before it really was just something in the air during those days. If people like The Sandman and The Atom could do it, and make the jackals preying on vulnerable communities shiver, then anyone would with the right willpower.

His abilities were modest. A motorcycle, a "stinger gun" (which in reality was just a souped up BB pistol but sting it did indeed do) and his secret weapon. A trained bee named Michael. Those of you who do not know this story just balked at that. How does one train a bee? Don't bees live like, two months at best? I need you to look at me when I tell you a couple of things and then the best guess we have. I am NOT fucking with you. 1. That bee is still alive, and has recently reunited with Raleigh's time displaced sidekick. 84 years after Raleigh's debut. Michael sat, and waited until Ladybug returned to the honey farm where he was housed and upon her return instantly flew up to her acting with direct recognition of the young woman after 8 decades.

2. Michael is able to sting multiple times without any ill effects on his person. (Bee-son. You know what I mean) Our best guess? The bee has a metagene.

A random mutation in this seemingly random worker bee has given it, what is from its perspective superhuman abilities of intellect, longevity and invulnerability. It is a theory because under no circumstances are we ever going to get to find out unless for some god forsaken reason the two heirs to Raleigh's estate pass it off to science when and if it does finally die.

Perhaps the discovery OF Michael's abilities were of partial inspiration for Raleigh's career. Truly we may never know.

Raleigh himself died in a battle with Nazi war criminal Baron Blitzkrieg in 1944, distracting the Baron long enough for his teammates in the Freedom Fighters to free themselves and turn the tide of battle. His memorial rests in Raleigh Park, Superior City for those curious. Note that it is a somber place of respect, those who have gone in an attempt to trivialize or joke on Raleigh's legacy have found themselves suspiciously targeted by the park's many large bee hives. The local superstition is that Michael has made it clear to all his fellows in the thousands of following generations who made their undisturbed home possible. (The park was built and is now maintained by the Raleigh estate, currently in the name of Raleigh's grand niece Jenna Raleigh and the descendants of the Rivera family who owned the honey farm where Michael was born) To this day, in Superior City, is considered very bad luck to harm a bee. And the city's annual Pollination Parade is held on Raleigh's birthday in July.

[boszbichblitzo]

"S-sorry. I uh.... I kinda got lost in my own head for a minute, I'm good." The cold touch to his cheek was certainly a shock, but it was more of a reminder of what they'd lost. What Fizz had lost because of him, more accurately. Maybe it was fitting that the other imp was trying to ground him with such a stark reminder only to directly ask about the fire immediately after. Anxiety twisted in his chest as he considered his answer, he could just refuse to talk about it, Fizz would probably respect that.... but he deserved to know the truth. He deserved to hear the full story more than anyone, perhaps, and Cash clearly hadn't been telling the truth.

"Uh.... o-okay, I–– .....So, it was your birthday, right? I had this present I was coming to give you that I spent like.... all day working on. But um..... when I got to the tent where the party was happening, I saw my dad giving you that.... stupid fucking card. 'I wish you were my son'." Blitzo used air quotes as he said it, rolling his eyes at not only how fucking stupid the card was, but at himself for being so affected by something as small as a birthday card. "I got upset and ran off to go.... I dunno, cry or something, whatever.... I uh..... I wasn't paying attention and I shoved someone–– I forget who it was–– and he was.... carrying the cake. Candles were already lit and everything. The tent.... It went up so fast. I didn't even know what happened until my fuckin' dad was already running past me and then one of those fireworks hit me right in the fucking eye. Why were they even in a tent? Who the fuck thought it was a good idea to put them there? I don't––" He cut himself off and took in a deep, shaky breath and let it out before continuing.

"A-anyway..... I went to try to get help when I saw how hurt you were, pointed a couple adults toward you, but then.... I heard my mom scream and saw our tent was..... it was bad, Fizz..... I ran in to try to help her, but I didn't–– I-I couldn't save her....." Blitzo paused again to wipe a few stray tears, the image of his mother burning right in front of him jumping back to the forefront of his mind as it so often did whenever anything reminded him of that night. "After it was all over..... my dad beat the absolute fucking shit outta me while you were getting carted off to the hospital and then told me to fuck off and never come back."

The tears threatened to come back full force and Blitzo had to take a minute just to steady his breathing before he could continue, shifting his focus back to the only other important person in his life..... who still refused to have an actual conversation with him that wasn't just hurling insults or emotional barbs. "You don't have to uh.... contribute, but.... I appreciate it. As long as I got somewhere I can hide some savings for her, that's enough. I just..... I know she hates me now and I can't really blame her for that, but I can't lose her too.... At least if she's alive and hates me, she's still alive, right?"

“…yes, but I want to,” his tone was gentle but firm, asserting that he wasn’t supporting Blitzo out of some imagined sense of duty but, instead, a desire to do so. That was all to say: Blitzo wasn’t a burden to him. Fizz cared endlessly about the other imp and wanted nothing more than to give him all of the love and support that he was willing, or perhaps able, to accept. “Hey, Blitzo. Are you in the room with me?” he hummed out the words softly, bringing one of cold hands to rest on the side of his best friends face in the subtle hope that the touch might shock him back into the present moment. Talking about the accident was, clearly difficult — but there was something that Fizz was wondering that had been left unsaid. If it was an accident? what happened? “I know this is—” he paused for a moment, “..uh, well, I know it’s a shit question to ask…but, well, I figured now is my chance to ask, ya know, without reopening a wound, or whatever…” The jester’s gaze flittered down as he spoke, struggling to build up to his question, his voice became really small “…what happened that night?”

Fizz nodded his head slowly as he listened to Blitzo’s words. It was so like him to be chiefly worrying about his sister while he, himself, was struggling. A hand came to rest on the back of his neck, rubbing the skin slightly as he allowed his features to warp into a concerned from. “Shit…I-I can try talking to her, I’m not sure she’ll listen to me either, but it’s worth a shot, right?…even if it just lets her know I’m here for her.” Fizz nodded his head enthusiastically at the thought of being able to help with the whole situation. He wasn’t getting much money at the moment — only a small slither of what the circus made — while the rest were paying for his hospital bills and prosthetics. But, he wanted to help. “I want to help! I, uh…well, I do have a place that I know your dad won’t look,” a slight blush heated his face, deciding not to mention that the hiding place he was thinking about also contained all of his, uh, more intimate items. Look, it was the only place he knew Cash hadn’t looked! and anyway, even if he found them, so long as the money was below a dildo or between the pages of a porn magazine? well, he was hardly going to go digging around, was he? It was kind of genius. The jester then levelled a finger at Blitzo, “I want to add to the funds though, not just hide your shit” his tone left no room for negotiation.

[hinamie]

shows up a day early with a nobara birthday tribute