#Just a reminder that my ask box is always open for drawing requests

[purplepenguintime]

If you could kill Belos, how would you do it? Show it in a sketch

Belos being stung to death by a thousand gay bees.

The bees also don’t die from stinging because I am not for the bury your gay trope

[its-time-to-write]

hi sweetheart! i was wondering if you could do a jamie imagine where the reader is a physical therapist and he’s always finding the most ridiculous excuses to go see her, like getting a paper cut and things like that. i would also love if it could be before they got together :)

it’s okay if you don’t want to do it or already did it and i didn’t see it. thank you anyway, you’re one of my favorite writers here on tumblr 🩵

you called me sweetheart, so now I would die for you. pet names are the way to my heart, in case u didn’t know. hope u enjoy🍊

(important disclaimer, I don’t know how physical therapy works so if I’m wrong about things, remember this isn’t a medical journal, I am just a girl)

before you go

Apparently, it’s impossible to purposely give yourself a paper cut, but Jamie Tartt has been doing his damnedest all day to get some kind of ailment, so if that means being careless with some photographs in his locker then so be it. 

He really wishes his leg would cramp or something, but Will’s been keeping him far too hydrated for that. 

So Jamie has to settle for slipping a picture of his mum at just the right angle to draw blood. 

“Shit,” he whispers softly. He puts his finger to his mouth to catch the first beads of blood. 

“Paper cut?” Sam asks sympathetically. Jamie nods, finger in between his teeth. 

“Ay, sí, you should go see the physio for that one, amigo. Ask for the Rojas special,” Dani says with his ever-present grin. 

“It’s just a paper cut, mate,” Jamie says in order to keep up appearances. 

Sam knocks his arm. “You have to go. Dani only just let me request the Rojas special last week, and Richard still won’t talk to me about it.”

“Ça c’est merde,” Richard calls from across the locker room. “Put on a bandage and go home.”

Jamie won’t. He sticks his tongue out at Richard and turns to go to the treatment room because he needs treatment right away. Never mind that it’s a cut and not a muscle injury. He can hide under the excuse that Dani sent him. 

Jamie taps on the door and pushes it open to find you sitting on the table, absentmindedly tapping your fingers on your knees. You jump down at the sight of Jamie. 

“Hi! I was wondering if anybody’d be over today,” you grin. “Where does it hurt?”

Jamie holds up his finger. “Dani sent me.”

“Ah, right,” you nod, grin never leaving your face. Jamie wonders if your sunny disposition is why you and Dani are such good friends. Suddenly, he’s gripped by uncertainty. Maybe you and Dani are morethan good friends. After all, Dani is strangely tight-lipped about his affairs and besides, it’s not good for the physio to be openly screwing a player. 

Maybe he should go. 

But you’ve already come back to him after rummaging in a cupboard, small box in hand. 

“Technically, this isn’t part of my job,” you say as you select a band-aid, “but I’ve been doing this since I started going to my nephew’s footie matches. Kid’s almost ten now, but he still asks for me every time he gets a scrape. First time I was here it was like, force of habit, but Dani said it reminded him of his sister, so…” you trail off. “I dunno, it’s funny that even big strong footballers still want silly bandages, yeah?”

Jamie watches as you open a green bandage with yellow flowers and wrap it carefully around his finger. You press a kiss to it and smile up at him. “There. All better.”

Jamie is… well, he’s flustered. He’s heard about the so-called Rojas special and how it’s available through recommendation only, but he wasn’t prepared for the sweet way you cradled his hand or the fact that your lips touched him. In fact, he wasn’t prepared for anything beyond a bandage and the fact that you slipped sweets to Sam and Dani to numb the sting of injury. 

“Thanks,” he chokes out, aware of the fact that you’re still holding his hand. You give it one last squeeze before dropping it. 

“See you around,” you say. 

Jamie mumbles something unintelligible and finds his way out the door.

“Fuck you,” he says to Sam as soon as he catches him in the car park. 

Sam raises an eyebrow. “You didn’t get a chocolate. Did you not hold still?”

“I- you- it- fuck you,” Jamie says again. “You fucking knew.”

“Knew what?” Dani asks. He’s a horrible liar. 

“You knew I thought she was fit. You didn’t tell me she’s, like, emotionally fit as well. So fuck you both for that.”

Sam mouths emotionally fit as he and Dani dissolve into laughter. 

“Which band aid did you get?” Dani asks when he finally regains control of himself. “She ran out of Peppa Pig last week, but she promised to get some more soon.” 

Jamie holds up his finger, wishing the cut were on the middle one. 

Sam and Dani lean into inspect it and nod once. 

“Well?” Jamie demands. They just look at him with stupid grins. 

“Good night, Jamie Tartt,” Dani says, opening Sam’s passenger seat door. 

“Good night, Jamie,” Sam echoes. 

The fuckers just leave him standing in the lot, heart racing like a fucking idiot. 

—

Jamie’s ankle is barely twisted. Like, barely. But he grew up watching football so he knows how make an injury seem worse than it is. He’s mastered the art of not going overboard.  

“You should see the physio,” Beard tells him. Jamie pretends to protest a little bit, ignoring the way Ted shoots Dani and Sam quizzical looks. They’re making some sort of face and Jamie’s not going to figure out what they mean because he doesn’t care. 

(Or maybe he already knows what they mean. But he doesn’t give a shit.)

So he hobbles his way to the treatment room where you’re typing something on the computer. Reports, probably. 

You look up with a smile when you see him, the quickly school it into a frown. “Where does it hurt?” you ask. 

“My ankle,” Jamie grimaces. 

You pat the table and he obliges, sitting down on the crinkly paper. 

You squat to undo his boot and Jamie realizes that maybe this isn’t the best way to get you to fall for him but it’s too late now because you’re gingerly sliding it off his foot. 

“D’you mind if I get the sock as well?” you ask, and it’s all Jamie can do to mutely shake his head. You lightly run a cool hand over his ankle. 

“Feels a bit swollen,” you say. “What happened?”

Jamie has to gather his thoughts firmly away from the way he could feel the callouses on your palm. “Tackle,” he says. 

“Hm,” you reply. “Does this hurt?”

Jamie gasps as you press your thumb at just the wrong spot. 

“I’ll take that as a yes,” you say. “Lie down. I’m going to massage it for a minute then put it on ice. You’ll be good to go in an hour.”

Jamie obeys, trying to ignore the way his breath hitches when your hand squeezes his calf for a fraction of a second. 

You’re able to find all the right spots, gently pushing the muscle back where it needs to go. You pat his foot gently and go to get an ice pack. “Keep this on for fifteen minutes, off for five, then on for another fifteen. If it still hurts I’ll get you another pack, or maybe a heating pad. Depends on what type of pain you have, but we’ll cross that bridge when we get to it.”

“You sending me back?” Jamie asks in a feeble attempt to be his usual confident self. 

You hesitate. “I mean… the other option is you stay here. I won’t lie to you, it’s pretty quiet back here but it doesn’t smell. Will got me on these scent diffuser packs, so this is one of the least-gross rooms on the lower level. I usually just type reports, but I’ve finished for now so I was going to read but we can chat if you like. You don’t have to, but I can monitor your ankle for the next hour if you’re here. It’s up to you.”

Stay and flirt with the pretty physio or sit on the bench instead of practicing?

Jamie positions himself better on the table. “What’s your book about?”

—

Jamie wishes that he were just making an excuse to come see you, but if that were the case he’d have made sure to be showered. Instead, he’s fresh off the pitch after a long day of practice and he needs his joints like, replaced or some shit. 

He stumbles into the treatment room and practically flops facedown on the table. You’re up in an instant, combing his hair away from his face with your fingers. 

“Where does it hurt?” you ask, voice filled with concern. 

“Everywhere,” Jamie groans. 

“Okay, so full-massage with the extra-large ice pack at the end, then,” you say. 

Jamie just grunts in response and tries not to think about the fact that this is the most unromantic way he’s ever tried to date a girl. He tells himself that you’re a physio, that you’ve seen grosser, and that you’re not even interested in him anyway. It still doesn’t stop him from asking about your day and cracking stupid jokes the entire time you’re popping his muscles. His voice squeaks every time you forcibly release tension, but you just laugh and tell him, “You should hear Isaac.” So yeah, the worst training of his life has now turned out to be a goddamned blessing in disguise because you’re joking back and forth for a solid twenty minutes. 

“Come back any time,” you tell him with a wink as he heads out the door. “You don’t have to be injured to say hey.”

Jamie smiles at that, and goes to tell Sam and Dani that they’re shitheads but he loves them very much. 

—

It’s been a long week and an especially long match, but thank fuck it’s over. There’s a bit of an ache in his legs but he doesn’t give a flying shit. They’ve won, for once, so as a reward to himself he’s going to invite you out with the lads. Proper, like, probably with the words, “Hey I think you’re fit,” except he’s thinking he should probably swap “fit,” for beautiful, or stunning, or the most wonderful, funny, amazing woman he’s ever met and no, it’s not just because of the magical healing powers you seem to possess. 

Jamie showers, changes, then heads purposefully down the hall. He knows you’re still here, you never leave after matches until everyone who might possibly need physio is gone. 

He bangs open the door, ready to regale you with the shit Ted’s up to post-match when he catches sight of your face. Or rather, the fact that it’s in your hands as your shoulders shake. 

He rushes over to the desk and turns your chair so you’re facing him. 

His hands are on your knees as he urgently whispers, “Where does it hurt?”

“It doesn’t,” you gasp, wiping your eyes. “I’m fine, I don’t know what came over me, I’m good, I promise. What’s up?”

You move to get up but Jamie presses lightly where his hands were resting. “You don’t look fine, love,” he says, then internally winces. Not a good thing to say to a girl, no matter how true it is. 

“I’m good, swear down,” you choke. You move to wipe away another tear but Jamie beats you to it, swiping it with his thumb. You shudder involuntarily, trying not to notice the rough feel of his skin on yours. 

“I’m not hurt,” he says tentatively. “Came to see if you wanted to go out with me ‘n the lads.”

“Oh!” you exclaim, still trying your absolute best to pull yourself together and failing miserably. “Right. I um, I’m going to be here a while so you should just go, yeah? Tell Dani I’m proud of him.”

Jamie shakes his head. “Ain’t leaving you here all by yourself.” He realizes your hands have found their way into his, and he has no idea who put them there. He lifts one to his lips and brushes a kiss to your knuckles. “Just tell me where it hurts, yeah?”

Another shiver wracks your body. “You can’t- I can’t- you have to go, okay Jamie? I need you to go.”

Jamie will, he’ll do anything you ask, but first he has to know- 

“Why?” he asks, so softly. “What’s wrong, beautiful?”

“Don’t-” you half-choke. “Not- I’m gross right now.”

Jamie can’t stifle his laugh in time, so he does his best to save it. “Love, you’ve seen me at my fuckin’ worst. We’ll call it even.”

You’re breathing a little easier now, but just barely. You don’t seem too eager to get rid of him so Jamie pushes his luck and stays kneeling on the floor. 

“Tell me,” he urges again, but you just shake your head. 

“You really should go,” you say, breath catching in your throat. “You don’t want to keep Maia waiting. Heard actresses are notoriously particular about being on time.”

That’s confusing. Maia- do you mean Maia Stanwood? You must, that’s the only Maia he knows. But how did you know her, Jamie had run into her at dinner the other day and there’d been a brief article in the papers, but nothing that connects to what’s happening here. 

Unless-

No. 

Except- it’s the only thing that makes sense. 

But you don’t like him like that. At least, he’s pretty sure. And anyway, isn’t it prickish to assume everyone’s in love with him?

But you’re not everyone, you’re the team physio with nice hands and a sweet smile and an affinity to fix people, to mend what’s broken in the best way you know how. 

“I love you,” he says instead of everything else he had planned.

You’re silent, and he’s not sure you’ve heard him so he says it again. 

“Yeah, alright, I love you too,” you sniff with a half-smile, except it’s the way you’d say to a brother, the way you’d say it to Dani or Sam. 

“No,” Jamie says more insistently, “I love you. That’s why I’m here. I wanted to tell you, wanted to take you out proper. Impress you with my dancing and chat you up at the bar. Make the lads jealous that I’ve got a beautiful girl on my arm, then sneak out early to kiss you like I’ve been fucking thinking about since that fucking paper cut. Had a right crush on you like an idiot since you got hired.”

You’re staring at him open-mouthed, unable to believe what he’s saying, and Jamie doesn’t know much all the time but he knows that you’re gripping his hands like it’s a lifeline. He knows your eyes are wide open and that he was on the mark about you thinking he was with someone else. So he does what anyone in his position would do. 

He captures your lips in his, letting go of your hands only so he can slip one hand around your waist and another in your hair. 

God, you feel like you’re melting. 

Jamie Tartt is kissing you like there’s no tomorrow and the floor is tipping out from under you, but apart from that vague feeling all you’re aware of is his hands on you and the fact that he tastes like spearmint. 

His lips are soft against yours, mouth warm and inviting. 

It’s like taking a breath of air for the first time in months. 

“I love you,” you say as soon as you break apart. You’re breathing heavily as if you’re the one who just played a 90-minute match. Jamie’s lips are swollen and your hair is mussed, but you both share the same look.

“All better?” he asks, and you nod. 

“Good. You want to get dinner? I know a few places we can go, don’t have to worry about paps.”

“The team-” you begin, but Jamie waves that away. 

“They’ll understand,” he says. “Been flirting with you for ages, getting injured all the time. Think Ted’s starting to get fucking worried.”

You run your thumb down his jawline. “I always wondered about that,” you murmur. “Thought it was in my head how much you were down here. Didn’t want to be unprofessional.”

Jamie reaches up to hold your wrist and you just sit there, on the floor of the treatment room, looking at each other in the dim light. You’ll get up, eventually, but for now you’re going to savor this moment you have together. 

[soupandsauce]

OCD with Finn Hudson

Finn Hudson x Female Reader

I got back into my teenage obsession with Glee ever since I found out it's on Hulu and so I will now be writing for Glee characters! Requests are super welcome!

Summary: How Finn helps and supports you during your OCD episodes

This is mainly for my own comfort as I am really struggling with my OCD now.

Having contamination OCD is a debilitating disability. Not to mention suffering through it during high school. Your first week was comforting once you met with the counselor, Miss Pillsbury who also struggles with all things germs. She encouraged you to dive into a club to try and socialize with people. Thats what a club is after all, a group of people coming together for a period to support one another.

So you did, or rather, you ignored her idea until someone very handsome came up to you during a rather germs time.

it was lunch, and you were sitting alone in an empty classroom far away from the floating particles of the high school cafeteria. You sat down with a sigh as you opened up your bento box full of healthy and colorful food. after sanitizing your dried out hands, you started to eat. A few laughs and voices occasionally decorating the silence as students walked the halls.

One of those students was Finn Hudson, the quarterback for McKinley high as well as one of the guys known to be in glee club. He was rather tall, couldn't be shorter than six foot four and had soft brown hair. You had seen him in passing as you walked in the halls in between classes. he always had a smile on his face and seemed to be a very gentle and friendly person despite his popular status.

Finn saw you as you ate alone in the classroom. He saw how you were wiping off your fruits and the way that the table underneath you was still partially wet from what must have been a lysol wipe. It reminded him of Miss Pillsbury and how she struggles with OCD. He smiled at your cute frame, no taller than five foot two. He wanted to say hello but for some reason, he felt himself get nervous. As if your beauty enthralled him.

But before he could look away, you looked up from your lunch to see him. He tried to act normal.

"Why are you eating alone? We'd love to meet you." he says as he walks inside the classroom.

"Oh, um, Hi." I say as I blush softly, still stiff.

"Hi." he says softly as he walks over to the table you're at and sits down across from you. So he is incredibly kind.

"I'm Finn." he says "You're new right?"

I swallow a bite of food.

"Yeah, I'm Y/N" you say.

he smiles

"So why are you all alone in here?" he asks again.

You swallow again out of nervousness, you might as well be honest.

"Oh, I have a germ problem." You start

Finn's face softens even further if that's even possible as he listens.

"I'm guessing you've met the counselor?" He says with a cute smile

"You two have a lot in common."

You smile softly and blush again

"Yeah, she's encouraged me to join a club. She says it might help." You say.

Then, Finn smiles. again like he has an idea.

"Do you like music?" He asks

"Yeahhh?" you say, drawing your word out as if you know he's up to something.

Finn giggles a little before saying, "Join glee club! Or just stop by today after school to see what it's like. I'll be there." he says.

You smile softly and blush again.

"Okay" You whisper.

.

.

.

after school, you pack up your bag and put some hand sanitizer onto your hands, grimacing slightly as you see how dry your hands are becoming from the over use. As you stand at your locker, you see Finn walking the hall too and he gives you a smile and a wave. You smile back and wave as well before you turn back around to your locker.

Then, from behind you, a couple of football players are snickering as they both hold slashes in their hands and walk towards you. Finn watches and his usual smile quickly drops into a look of dread and worry. Finn quickly runs over to you and you turn around to see Finn, as well as these two football players all coming towards you, you flinch as they all three get so close, worried that they will touch you.

"Hey new girl, welcome to McKinley." One of the football players says with a smirk on his face as if he's up to no good.

"Don'y even think about it, dude." Finn says.

"Says you, you faggot. Everyone knows that Glee club members are all losers. She associates with you, so therefore, she's a loser too. And you know what losers get." The football guys says as he throws the contents of the slushy into the air towards you.

"No! Stop!" Finn says as he tries to block it, but he's too late. The cold, wet, and sticky slushy splashes all over your face, hair, clothes, and skin and you gasp so loud that Finn think it's a scream.

"Finn looks furious as the two guys who walk away with a strut. And for a moment, you think that Finn is going to run after them and punch em, but instead, Finn turns back to you with a terribly sorry look on his face.

"Y/n, I'm so sorry... I tried to stop them... I know you..." But he can't even finish his sentence before you start breaking down into a panic as you feel the blue slush all over you, CONTAMINATING you.

Finn watches in fear as you shrivel to the ground in a ball and cry as you hyperventilate and panic, unable to move.

"Here" Finn says as he takes you gently by the shoulders and walks you away from the large, watching crowd and into the empty football locker room.

"I-I-its- I..." You try to speak, not only about what just happened, but the fact that the locker room only worsens your situation due to the sporty, sweaty smell.

Finn is quick to fetch his duffel bag from his locker and rummage inside of it to hold out a hoodie and a pair of joggers.

He runs with a towel over to you and wipes off your face as you cry, barely registering the close proximity or how kind he is being to you for a moment. But after a few minutes of him wiping your face and hands clean, you start to catch your breath, hiccuping every so breaths s you sniffle.

"I know it's not the best place in the world, but there's showers around the corner if you wanna wash up a little. I have these clean clothes too if you wanna change." he says in the most gentle voice.

You sniffle as you look at his sorry expression, like he somehow caused it, and suddenly really start to feel for him. You start to tear up again and Finn sees it.

"N-No I didn't mean to make you cry again, im so sorry." Finn says as he stands up straight and puts his hands on his eyes.

"No Finn, you're just so sweet." You say.

"Thank you"

You then decide to take a quick shower while Finn waits right outside the locker room door, making sure that no one comes in. After about 20 minutes of scrubbing and washing, you finally come walking out slowly. Finn turns around to see you, 5'2, with damp hair, all while wearing HIS hoodie and HIS joggers which, mind you, swallow you whole. He smiles.

"How do you feel?" He asks

"better, thank you." You say with a quiet and scratchy voice from all the crying and hyperventilating.

Finn smiles back

"Do you still feel good enough for Glee club or do you want to try another day?" He asks, not wanting to pressure you after such a traumatic thing.

You feel some sort of pull to Finn, almost as if you want to be near him always.

"Only if you sit beside me, Finn" You say softly with a smile.

.

.

.

Time went on and Glee club was the thing that really helped you feel more normal, more accepted. And as promised, Finn sat by you each and every time. Almost everyone in the club, including Mr. Schue, were convinced that you and Finn were dating but the both of you denied it until the night of regionals. Before the show, behind the curtain, you two had a rather short conversation.

"Break a leg" You said to Finn

"I love you." he quickly gets out right before the music starts.

.

.

.

Since then, you two have been happily dating.

.

.

.

On nights where he spends the night, or a full weekend over, he always respects your boundaries and little rituals. Finn smiles as he takes off his outside clothes and changes into his inside clothes for you, giving you little winks here and there as he unbuttons his shirt. He helps you by wiping down the counters with lysol wipes after he cooks anything and helps you with the laundry.

But there are times when it gets so bad that Finn tries to help you refrain from doing your cleanings.

Often times, he sees how chapped your hands are from all the hand washing and hand sanitizer so he sits you down and rubs lotion on your hands, whispering softly how you have to take care of them. or he will challenge you to only wash your hands for a minute as he stands next to you. He praises you when you do well.

.

.

.

Mr. Schue really likes you and Finn because he sees himself and Miss Pillsbury in you two. he can tell that you two are going to last based off how you treat each other. And that's the main reason why you two commonly get to sing all the ballads. After performance nights, Finn and you have sleepovers where you clean the trophy while watching a movie together, it's really sweet.

[goatcheesecak3]

hii i saw you were taking requests! do you have any headcanons abt rodrick celebrating his partners birthday? please and thank uu :)

I'm glad u asked this bc it gave me the opportunity to use this picture lmao

1) you will never ever EVER recieve a store bought card from him. Instead, he always makes one for you, since he's pretty good at drawing.

2) for gifts, he goes for something he knows you'll use every day and really enjoy, like a new pair of docs or a really nice jacket. One year, he got you a leather jacket with loads of pockets, and in each pocket, he left a smaller gift: a pack of your favourite cigs, a flask of your favourite whiskey, an eyeliner pencil, some black nail polish and a tiny notebook filled with doodles of the two of you and song lyrics that remind him of you.

3) you have an actual party with all your friends for your birthday, but you also get a special birthday date with Rodrick. He takes you out for the day, maybe to the aquarium or a fun fair, then out to dinner. He likes to be able to spoil you, especially on your birthday, so he insists on paying for everything.

4) he invites all his friends to your birthday party, so he can show you off to them (and brag that he's actually got a girlfriend/boyfriend), and of course, he plays a song for you. (Last time it was love song by the damned).

5) he doesn't use social media all too often, but he'll always make a big gushy post about you on your birthday, "happy birthday to my favourite person in the whole world, I love you to bits (even if I'm still mad that you look better in my jeans than me) love you baby x"

6) he can't cook to save his life, but he still tries to surprise you with breakfast in bed on your birthday. If he really really puts his mind to it, he can make a half decent omelet.

7) you get a card and a small gift from his family too, usually a box of chocolates or flowers, you always think it's sweet how much they like you.

8) at your birthday party he always ends up getting emotional drunk, and going on and on about how much he loves you, and insists on dancing with you to soppy music as the night slows down.

9) he takes lots of pictures of you on your birthday, since you're smiling all day and he just LOVES your smile.

10) he loves to sleep, and usually he's late to everything but your birthday is an exception. He wouldn't DREAM of being late to you birthday, even though he's had a few close calls before, he always makes it on time.

A/n hope you enjoyed! This was a really fun suggestion to write :^)

Replies/reblogs are really appreciated :^)

Requests are still open! I do fics and hcs, check my pinned post for details :^))))

[kinaesthetiqueer]

FNDM Creator Bio

Name: kina, they/them, not beating the cat kid allegations since the aughts, allegedly old enough to know better- whatever that means, none gender left lesbian, more identities that start with 'a' than you can shake a stick at, cringe AND free, tyvm

AO3: ➡kinaesthetique ⬅

i mainly write but i like to draw too! my art can be found at #kina draws. i vary between goofy doodles to serious fic scenes to silly memes.

Favorite Characters i can talk about for at least an hour straight: Nora (number one best girl in my heart!!!), Fox, Blake, Ruby, Weiss, Yang, Neo, Winter, Ren, Pyrrha, Coco, Penny, Qrow

Favorite ships: Nordic Winter, Valkos, Renora, Nordic Winter Victory, Nuts n Dolts, Thunderchrome, Bees Schnees, Monochrome, Freezerburn, Whiterose, Renorarc, Arkos, Bumbleby, JNPR Berries (the colors or lack thereof mean nothing i was just having fun with the editor and i ran out of colors)

Favorite tropes: supernatural additions to canon, [playing very carefully within the bounds of the Sandbox And Its Implications], canon divergences, [expands on something canon didn't have time for], [interprets one-off line way too seriously], found family, [damn we should probably go to therapy. anyway. the horrors.], strangers to friends to lovers, sloooooooooow burn, mutual pining, "we don't have Time for Romance but it doesn't stop the Yearning"

Self recommendation: i think On the Run from Tomorrow is a great introduction to my writing, though it can be a little rough on your tissue box! (i also like to rec it because i like people to be unwell about it with me.) if you're more into high stakes supernatural fluff, then her pulse in my throat is definitely where it's at! all my writing is pretty good though, if it's your cup of tea! it's certainly is mine. <3

Creator’s note: my biggest upfront boundaries are that i don't accept requests, suggestions, or unsolicited critiques or creative direction. i reserve that kind of input for my close friends or when i [very rarely] ask for it. being rude is a very quick way to my block list! i'm here for a good time, i'm enjoying myself immensely & i will defend that.

i'm happy to chat via tumblr dms and make new friends! askbox is open always too. i love answering questions no matter how mundane or silly. i'm pretty laid back and silly as a person, but sometimes i get overwhelmed by too many comments or messages at once. i'll get back to you eventually. ;u;

i had a lot of fun writing for the @remnants-of-rwby-events inaugural fic exchange! definitely proved i can be unwell about any characters given enough time to cook up something suitable! it also reminded me that the rwby brainrot (affectionate) is terminal and i am utterly incapable of writing one-shots. rip in pieces.

looking forward to future events! :3

[minifridge44]

little sot stan for the soul

i quite enjoy this guy. i’d say he’s my favorite out of the main four

i was going to draw kyle with him but i was having issues so he is all alone

also just a little reminder that requests are always open in my ask box!!!

[ugh-yoongi]

hello, congratulations my beautiful funny grandpa friend on your follower milestone! as discussed, i have a drabble request: namgi, a blowjob, and a happy ending. yours to do with what you will - as explicit or vague as you like and you don't have to use my favorite ao3 tag if u don't want. okie, love u - good job being awesome on tumblr and reminding me it exists

yeah, hi, we're not gonna discuss how long this has been sitting in my ask box. we're gonna pretend that this showed up within the last two days.

flow job

pairing: yoongi x namjoon genre: underground rap scene au, fwb au; pwp warnings: this is obviously gay mxm stuff, so please do not interact if that's not your thing. swearing, public sex, oral sex, unedited. rating: explicit. minors dni. wordcount: 1k listen to: cypher pt.3 by bts

it's bee's birthday! send me yoongi requests and/or fic recs!

There’s something about the way Yoongi raps.

It fucks Namjoon up a little. (A lot.) Has him standing far enough in the side-stage shadows to adjust his jeans. Has his fingers twitching at his sides, wanting nothing more than to reach out and touch, but he has to remember where they are. Who they’re around. Has to remember that this is part of the routine.

Because it’s not the first time.

Won’t be the last, either. Yoongi likes knowing Namjoon’s watching him, that he’s strung tight and a little desperate by the time Yoongi’s done. Likes feeling Namjoon’s heated gaze on him every time he wordplays some filthy line; every time his tongue darts out to swipe over his bottom lip. Likes taking the last slot of the night because it’s always the longest, and god knows Yoongi likes to draw it out, prolong the game.

The beat Yoongi’s rapping along to is dirty. Namjoon can feel the bass in his chest, but Yoongi rides it well. Better than anyone else in this grimy club. Looks better than anyone, too, but it’s the competence that does it for Namjoon. What had him approaching Yoongi to begin with, a little awestruck and inspired and a lot horny, and Yoongi had smirked out of the side of his mouth and that was the end of life as Namjoon had known it. Had him shoved in a disgusting bathroom stall with his pants pulled taut around his thighs, Yoongi on his knees in front of him.

Now it’s a thing.

Only ever here. Only in these seedy underground clubs where they’re known only by their stage names. Kim Namjoon and Min Yoongi only exist here to one another.

Yoongi spits one more line right as the beat cuts out and he drops his microphone on the floor. There’s screaming, thunderous applause, but Namjoon hears none of it. All that exists to him is Yoongi and the way he finds him in the dark immediately, knows all his hiding places, and the hunger evident on his face.

Namjoon is a man that needs little instruction. Smart as hell but just as clumsy, yet always seems to know exactly what to do when it comes to Yoongi. Namjoon might call it intuition if the promise of Yoongi’s wet, hot mouth didn’t have his brain short-circuiting, but, well.

They’ve only played this club once before, but Namjoon has the layout memorized. Knows exactly where to go. Knows all the turns, how many steps. Hasn’t thought of much else since the last time he had Yoongi’s mouth on him. Two weeks, and he’s been fucked up and on fire ever since.

Sometimes Yoongi is gentle and teasing, but tonight he moves like he’s possessed. Slams a stall door open and pushes Namjoon inside of it with little regard for his well-being. No regard for anyone who might play witness to this, either, because he’s back on his knees before Namjoon can blink. Has his belt undone and his jeans pulled down while the crowd is still chanting his stage name.

“Hy-hyung,” Namjoon tries to choke out, but it comes out all breathy and stuttered. Tries to tangle his hands in Yoongi’s hair, too, but he swats his hands away.

“Shut up,” Yoongi replies, and it’s all heat but no disdain. “Fuck, I thought about this the entire time.”

Namjoon’s briefs get tucked beneath his balls and he braces himself for the feel of Yoongi’s mouth—sucks in one breath and then another, steadies himself against the stall door—but there’s… nothing. He cracks one eye open and looks down. Whimpers at the sight of Yoongi there, cheeks flushed, looking at Namjoon the same way Namjoon knows he looks at him.

“Are you gonna…”

It’s all gums when Yoongi smiles. Seems to laugh despite himself. “Suck your dick? Yeah, I’m working on it.”

“Doesn’t seem to be the case, hyung.”

“Give me a fucking second, Namjoon, I’m thinking.”

“Can you think later? My dick hurts and your knees are gonna bruise. Not to mention this club is probably the nastiest one we come to—”

Yoongi scoffs. Spits in his hand and pumps the length of Namjoon’s cock just to shut him up. It works. It really works, because Namjoon’s moaning and thrusting his hips into Yoongi’s hand like no one’s ever touched his dick before. Pathetic. Namjoon knows it is, but he can’t help himself. When just a look from Yoongi can have him unraveling, it’s unrealistic to expect him to be able to withstand this kind of assault.

“I was thinking,” Yoongi continues, replacing his hand with languid, slow licks from the base of Namjoon’s cock to the tip, “about how to—” Sucks hard at the tip just to laugh when Namjoon swears. “—ask you out.”

And because he’s a bastard, Yoongi doesn’t give him a chance to reply. Just swallows the entire length of Namjoon’s cock, and whatever sounds and words come out of Namjoon’s mouth are no longer his responsibility. Whatever he does with his hips isn’t, either, because he’s been keyed up since he first laid eyes on Yoongi hours ago. Has exhibited impressive restraint, so he figures he’s allowed to let go. He’s allowed to fuck Yoongi’s mouth in shallow strokes until he’s snug in his throat.

“Fuck, fuck,” he groans. The chase is mindless, now. Nothing exists beyond the feel of Yoongi’s mouth. “Hy-hyung, fuck, I’m gonna—”

Yoongi pulls off long enough to roll his eyes and say, “Jesus, already?” before Namjoon finally tangles his hands in his hair and feeds his cock back into his mouth. Then it’s just instinct.

Namjoon comes with a long, drawn-out moan. The kind of orgasm that has his legs trembling, no longer able to support his weight, and he wants to sink to the floor and ride it out but he refuses to put his bare ass on the grungy tile. “Oh my god,” he says, swallowing hard to try and catch his breath.

Yoongi is completely unbothered. Stands to dust off his knees. “Am I allowed to think now?”

“Sure,” Namjoon concedes, “but I can’t. I think you sucked me stupid.”

Yoongi scoffs, rolls his eyes again, but Namjoon can see the shy smile that’s threatening to break through. Can see the blush spreading across his cheeks. “You’d think you’d be used to it by now. You wanna go grab a drink with me?”

Namjoon falters. Isn’t sure he’s hearing correctly. Knows, logically, that Yoongi had mentioned it just minutes earlier but thought maybe he’d misheard, like some mirage in the horny desert that’s Namjoon’s brain. Gets distracted by Yoongi’s spit-slicked lips, the way the yellowed, fluorescent lights of the bathroom glint off his mouth, the way he swipes his tongue at the corner, and blurts out:

“Is this why your stage name is Gloss?”

Yoongi’s stunned. Just blinks owlishly. “You really think I’ve made a habit of blowing people in club bathrooms and named myself after it?”

“Well, I don’t know, your mouth just looks—”

“Just shut up, Kim Namjoon,” Yoongi says, and Namjoon decides it’s advice worth taking. “Do you want to go out with me or not? I’m not asking again.”

He nods.

[finsterkiibo]

happy little reminder that my ask box is always open for requests and/or just sharing your headcanons and ideas!!! no guarantees on me drawing them (if you want to support me and guarantee yourself a silly doodle go to my kofi !!!!!!) but I LOVEE reading them and responding with paragraphs and or possible doodles eheh

[furiousofpanda]

Salutations Stranger

》Oc Asks, Art shitpost and repost blog.

◇ Click to read more ◇ if it's your first time here!

About OP

PLEASE do not use feminine things to refer to me, I'm just not a feminine construct, sorry!

I don't have a set name or gender, see below

Autistic Gendersatyret Demisexual Enbian

Animation Arts and Visual Science Student, Art is my thing.

Memory issues, remind if I forgot something important

Think of this as a "Stew" blog. You'll get a bit of everything here including reposts from my art blog.

Sometimes i'll post my artwork, doodles, you can even ask about my ocs and stories and I'd love to talk about them. My art blog is @plantjester

TAGS

Commissions Here | Toyhou.se | Strawpage

#Freerealestate - Free to use art I've made

#Oc posting - Original character content

#SOAS - Oc story, Sonet of a Singularity

#Ask Posting - Answers to asks

Untagged or fandom tagged posts are shitposts or ideas related to thoes topics, take them lightheartedly

ASKS

Always open, I answer them when I have the time!

I'll do SFW topics/questions

No campaigns or advertisements, even if "vouched"

Headcannons, Ocs, I can write up little stories or scenarios if I'm familiar with the characters (I'm not the best of writers so it will be scuffed a bit)

I'll ignore asks I don't like or ones that go too far

I don't really write fanfiction but I can give a short story thing if asked

Requests for my Ocs are 100% ON THE TABLE AND ENCOURAGED. Will be slow in response depending on the answer since I'll be drawing the response

You can ask about me irl, I really don't mind!

I won't draw characters I'm not familiar with or other people's characters (except close friends or my hubby)

HOUSE RULES

Take everything I repost or say in a comedic manner unless it's a long text post.

Do not send campaigns through asks.

All art tagged under #freerealestate is free to be used without my permission, I'd prefer if you credited but I don't give a care as long as you aren't posing it as your own work or editing it.

Do not use any art that's not tagged as #freerealestate, that's just personal stuff.

This is my house. Criticizing my content offhandidly gets you blocked.

I love interacting and shitposting, if you say something funny in my ask box I'll draw a response back even if I want to.

No original species/Furry discussion on my page unless its a character from a game or show or etc. My comfort of this blog is to have a space away from furry subcommunity drama. Even if i somehow bring it up but don't bother asking about it.

I don't give a care and neither should you, I'm only here to have fun anyways.

[doodleloverz]

Just a reminder that my commissions are open! Link below⬇️

🌸Commissions link🌸

And ofc if you can't buy but still enjoy my art you can always send me a doodle request in the ask box and I'll happily draw it if I find it a fun enough idea!

But if you are interested heres the TOS below!

[zanethepa1n]

friendly reminder that my ask box is always open 🙏🙏 i love hearing from my moots or anyone else 😈 also drawing requests are a-okay i just cant guarantee ill get to them ...

biscuitjocks prompts are very appreciated ...

[stars-tonight]

Hi, if it makes it easier, I've resent my original matchup request below in your ask box, but please don't feel pressured at all. I didn't know about Tumblr hiding message notifs, I'm so sorry for not sending it as an ask before:

I'd like to request a romantic, long matchup with a Haikyū guy please, as long as that's okay for you. So information about me: my pronouns are she/her, I'm very quiet and introverted but I open up more when I'm around people I'm very close to. I'm very self-conscious but I always try to be there for people I care about, like to offer any help / comfort I can. I don't communicate my problems that much as I don't want to burden people. My hobbies are watching anime, reading manga, playing video games and drawing. I'm 5' 2" with short, dark brown hair (the best way I can describe my hairstyle is that it's like Anri's from Durarara!!), and I wear round glasses.

My love languages are quality time, acts of service (giving) and physical touch (giving & receiving, but mostly in private / subtly in public as I'm not really a fan of PDA). My ideal partner is someone who is kind and someone I have things in common with. I relate to and understand introverts, I'm not completely opposed to extroverts, I just really don't like rude people. I'd like it to be a relationship in which we both understand each other and are just comfortable with one another, like each person knows you're always there for each other, that sort of thing. I would want my partner to know I am someone he can lean on whenever and I'll never see it as a pain to take care of people important to me. I really hope that's okay, I'm so sorry if it's not. Thank you so much for doing this, please take care and take as long as you need ❤️

headcanons

🥛 this is a bit of a far reach

🥛 but

🥛 kita is like a defensive specialist

🥛 so he's always got his team's back

🥛 just like he's always got your back ;)

🥛 (omg what even was that i'm sorry)

🥛 kita can tell how his teammates are feeling with just a glance

🥛 so he's very attentive and observant

🥛 even if you have trouble expressing yourself, kita would definitely notice when you're feeling upset

🥛 he's super mature and for sure a great listener

🥛 might be a bit blunt with his words sometimes but he only wants the best for you

🥛 similar to you, kita isn't the best at expressing his difficulties to others

🥛 as the relationship progresses, he definitely opens up more to you

🥛 not a big pda guy either

🥛 would probably hold your hold if you're crossing a street or in a large crowd

🥛 but otherwise would just walk next to you

🥛 saves the hugs for when you're alone

🥛 he's a very straightforward person so he would want you to be authentic around him

🥛 doesn't get the appeal of putting on fake personas anyway

🥛 i believe i have said this before but kita's giving love language is probably quality time

🥛 would definitely try things you like so he could see them from your point of view

🥛 i don't see him as a big video game guy but he'd like drawing

🥛 i think he'd be decent at drawing

🥛 would probably draw a really nice portrait of you while you're doing something you love

🥛 presents it to you simply with a note that says "you're beautiful when you're happy"

🥛 he also appreciates it when you do things for him

🥛 always reminds you to take care of yourself first though

🥛 kita's one of the most dependable people in the show

🥛 while it may take him a while to see that he can trust you completely, when he does open up to you it's the most beautiful thing in the world

🥛 he doesn't trust just anyone so to be the one he trusts is a huge honor

runner up for you was kozume kenma!

A/N: there you go, i hope you liked it! and thank you for being so proactive with the message and sending it in an ask! it was a pleasure writing for you :)

[dirtd0g]

Just as a little reminder bc I just got an onslaught of new followers from all the stuff I’ve posted recently:

My ask box is always open and you can send in drawing requests and anything else whenever!

[girasollake]

high school sweethearts pt. 2 | e.m. 

pairing: eddie munson x nb!reader

requested: follow up to part 1 which was requested

type: angst

summary: reader can’t deal with eddie leaving them for someone else and they decide to use something they thought they never would

warnings: usage of drugs (i have never done drugs in my life and i do not condone it, usage of it is just for story purposes, dont do drugs.), description of taking drugs, curse words, neutral type of ending

a/n: i won’t be doing more parts guys cause i don’t like writing multi-chapter stories and i have some requests i have to finish but i hope you’ll enjoy this follow up to part one!

word count: 1,743

The next month was hard for (Y/n). Even though they stopped talking to Eddie it seemed like he was everywhere. They would hear his favourite songs in the cars passing by, his smell would linger in the air out of nowhere and they would see him in every corner of the school. The world just kept reminding (Y/n) about his existence and their mental health was getting worse. It was still a mystery for them why Eddie didn’t even want to be friends anymore. Maybe he thought that their feelings would get in a way for his relationship or whatever it was? Or maybe he was just sick of (Y/n)? They had many answers for that and each one of them felt right. They wanted to focus on something else, to get their mind off of him. So, they picked up their old guitar and there it was – Eddie again. Then they tried painting and, oh, him again. The memories of him drawing and designing the hellfire t-shirt were flooding their brain.

☽ ☽ ☽

(Y/n) was eating lunch next to Robin who was having a conversation with one of her friends. This time of the day was one of the worst because they had a clear view of Eddie’s table and the man himself. After moving their fork in their food for about 5 minutes they finally looked up and they instantly regretted it. There she was again, talking to him, smiling at him and… taking something under the table? For a moment (Y/n) forgot that he was a drug dealer. Then they thought that maybe there is a chance for her to be interested in him so that she could get free samples. But that wouldn’t go on for such a long time, would it? While (Y/n) was watching his hand touching the box he always carried, an idea struck their mind. Since the world wouldn’t let them forget about him, why not use it to their advantage?

When the school ended they took the first bus that was going towards Eddie’s trailer park. They felt uneasy about this, but was there anything else they could do? Sure, weed and alcohol were working good for them in the terms of “blocking out the thoughts” but they needed something stronger. They finally reached Eddie’s trailer and lifted their fist to knock. They hesitated when they heard a girl laughing inside.

‘You chose the perfect fucking moment, (Y/n).’ They mumbled and after taking a big breath they knocked.

They heard someone walking to the door, voices were getting louder. Eddie opened the door and his girlfriend was right behind him, a disgusted look on her face.

‘Hi.’ (Y/n) said. ‘I wanted to-‘

‘What are you doing here, (Y/n)?’ Eddie asked.

‘I-‘ They swallowed a big lump in their throat. ‘I just-‘

‘Look, I don’t have time for this right now.’ He said and started closing the door.

‘Wait!’ They screamed and placed their hand on the door. ‘I wanted to buy some drugs.’ They said while looking into Eddie’s eyes.

‘What?’ He chuckled. ‘Nice joke, go home, (Y/n).’

‘I’m serious.’ They huffed and let go of the door. ‘You’re a dealer and I want to buy shit, that’s how it works from what I remember.’

‘Yeah, but you don’t do drugs.’ He answered sternly.

‘I don’t.’ They stated. ‘But I want to start.’

‘No.’

‘Yes, Munson.’ They said through gritted teeth. ‘I am your fucking customer so do your fucking job.’ They hissed, still not breaking eye contact. ‘Or I’ll call the cops.’

He snorted and opened the door for (Y/n) to come in.

‘Thanks, I’ll wait here.’ They said and sat on the couch.

‘You have any preference?’ He asked without any emotions.

‘No, give me something that’ll quiet my thoughts and make me less miserable.’

‘Drugs will make you more miserable.’

‘Really? Then why do you sell them and use them?’ They asked with a sarcastic smile.

Eddie turned around to go to his room, he didn’t say anything at all. (Y/n) was left in the living room with his girlfriend who was shooting them death stares the whole time.

‘What’s your problem?’ (Y/n) asked and intertwined their hands.

‘I don’t have a problem, seems like you do.’ She answered and walked out of the room to join Eddie.

(Y/n) started nervously tapping their foot on the floor and biting their nails. They were scared of drugs their whole life, they really wanted to leave and not buy anything but their pride got the best of them. They wanted to show him what he did to them, how he treated them, because Eddie knows damn well they would never use drugs. They had told him that months ago, that they would need to reach a breaking point, a moment in their life where everything would be unbearable to take drugs worse than marijuana. And there they were, much lower than their breaking point.

‘Here, that should be enough.’ Eddie handed them two pills of something.

‘No.’ (Y/n) shook their head. ‘I want more than that. This’ll just get me through one day.’

‘Fuck no. You take that or nothing.’ He said.

‘Not a really good deal for a dealer. I have a lot of money here…’ They took their savings out of the pocket and showed them to him. ‘… and you have a lot of drugs.’

‘No. This or nothing.’

‘Okay, well in that case…I’ll be back tomorrow for more.’ They snatched the bag from him.

‘No, you won’t.’ He said while (Y/n) handed him some money.

‘Oh, but I will. It’s either that or the cops. Think about it.’ They said and walked out of his trailer.

Cold air hit their warm cheeks, it was refreshing after being inside there for so long. Small droplets of rain started falling on (Y/n)’s face as they ran towards the bus stop.

At home they locked themselves in the bathroom. The small plastic bag which contained the drugs was sitting across from them. They didn’t want to take them, they didn’t want to end up in a situation they couldn’t escape. They didn’t want to buy them, but the feeling consuming them was much stronger and it influenced all of (Y/n)’s actions. Finally they reached for the bag and after taking out one pill they placed it on the countertop. (Y/n) took a deep breath and looked up to see their reflection in the mirror.

‘You can do it.’

They took out their pocket knife and pressed it on top of the pill. They didn’t know what they were supposed to do, but since they had seen others do that it must’ve been the right way. Carefully they made thin slices of white powder and soon they were all inhaled by them through the nose.

(Y/n) didn’t remember much from the other day when they went to Eddie. Some of their memories became blurry after taking the drug and maybe it was a good thing? Maybe that’s just what they needed? And just like that, right before school, they took the other pill.

☽ ☽ ☽

Eddie had noticed something wasn’t right when he first saw (Y/n) entering the cafeteria. He didn’t think they would actually take those pills, it wasn’t like them. He approached them by their locker and leaned on the wall next to it.

‘Are you high?’

‘Why does it matter?’ (Y/n) mumbled, eyes focused on one spot inside her locker.

‘Because we’re in the fucking school!’ He hissed. ‘Why did you take those pills? What’s wrong with you? You hate drugs! And bursting like that into my house yesterday was not nice at all!’

They slowly lifted their head and turned it into his direction. (Y/n) looked him in the eyes and he noticed how red theirs were.

‘Fuck you.’ (Y/n) chuckled and shut their locker.

They started walking away from him with a small smile tugging on their lips. Eddie quickly grabbed their arm and turned them to face him again.

‘I’m taking you home.’

‘No you’re not… I have classessssss..’ They yawned.

He didn’t reply, he just walked out of the school with (Y/n)’s arm held in his fist. He pushed them into his passenger seat and put on the seatbelt. The whole ride was silent with occasional curses spilling out from (Y/n)’s lips.

‘Fuck you.’ (Y/n) mumbled again when they reached his house and he was leaning over them to unbuckle their seatbelt. ‘You’re a piece of shit.’

He didn’t answer. He just took them out of the car and pulled them along to go into the trailer.

‘Sit.’ He demanded as he placed them on his bed. ‘And stay here.’

‘It’s all your fault.’ They said before he left the room which caused him to stop. ‘It’s your fault I’m like this.’

‘No, it’s yours. You wanted the fucking drugs!’

‘BECAUSE OF YOU!’ They stood up abruptly. ‘YOU LEFT ME!’

Tears were welling up in (Y/n)’s eyes. Eddie was just looking at them, unable to move and speak.

‘You left me… for her. I gave you.. fucking everything…’ They whispered. ‘What was so bad about me?’

‘(Y/n) please, you’re high. Sit down.’

‘No. You fucking hear me? I won’t sit down! Give me more fucking drugs if you don’t want to talk to me!’ They got closer to him and started punching him in the chest, but not hard enough to hurt him. ‘GIVE. ME. FUCKING. DRUGS. ASSHOLE!’

He engulfed them in a hug and instead of fighting more, they broke down crying. Eddie sat down with them on the cold floor and pulled them closer. (Y/n)’s cries could be heard throughout the whole trailer and outside.

‘Why won’t you love me Eddie?’ They sniffled.

‘I’m sorry.’ He sighed. ‘I never wanted to hurt you.’

‘But you did. A lot.’

‘I know. I know I fucked up..’ He started crying as well. ‘You were my best friend and I fucked it all up.’

He started rubbing their back softly.

‘I have always loved you, just not like that.’ He whispered. ‘But maybe it’s because I was scared to lose you and then when you told me how you feel.. I fucked up either way. I still lost you.’

‘You didn’t lose me yet.’ They replied weakly.

‘I’m sorry for doing this to you and for letting you try that shit. Promise me you won’t do it again and I promise I’ll fix this.’

‘Okay.’ They muttered. ‘I promise.’

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- thank u<33

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[sassy-ahsoka-tano]

Uncle Eldis

Character/Fandom: Elvis - Elvis (2022)

Requested: Yes! - anon

Prompt: When your friends ask you and Elvis to watch the kids during their date night, you’re not sure Elvis will be on board. But, things turn out much differently than you expected. [ Fem!Reader ]

TW: k i d s lmao just kidding none!

Rating: Pg (SO. SOFT.)     ||     Word Count: 1943

A/N: I straight thought this was gonna be so short but it became ADORABLE SO QUICK. domestic themes usually aren't my thing...but i FW this so hard. elvis just needs to be domestic i don't make the rules ¯\_(ツ)_/¯

Read part two here!

🦋 mila

─────•~❉᯽❉~•─────

If you're being honest with yourself, you know that Elvis has never been the best with kids. You love him very much, but he isn't necessarily domestically inclined. Especially not recently with all the shows he's been playing. He isn't the type to settle down with a family and children. The mere fact that he had married you is shocking to a large portion of the world — and devastating to his fans.

You, on the other hand, have always been great with kids. You don't know exactly what it is about you that draws them in, but they just gravitate toward you. You’ve never had a problem talking to a toddler about anything.

When your friends asked you and Elvis to watch their kids while they went out for date night, you knew it would be an interesting conversation. At first, Elvis had protested profusely.

“I don’t want no goddamn kids runnin around my house! Knockin things over, destroyin things! No,” he’d shouted.

It had taken some convincing and a lot of badgering. But eventually, after you'd reminded him that he used to let his younger cousin Billy run wild through the house all the time just a few years ago, he agreed to go along with it.

“It’ll only be for a few hours, babe,” you’d said, and he’d waved his hand dismissively as he sat down at the piano to write a song.

The hour had finally come and the doorbell rings while you're reading on the couch. Elvis is watching television next to you. You snap your book closed and jump to attention, going to answer the door. When you swing it open to see the faces of your friends and their two little toddlers, you smile.

“Well hi there!” you say enthusiastically and wave at the kids.

“Thank you so much for doing this,” your friend, Angie, says.

“You have no idea how much this helps us out,” agrees her husband, John, with a chuckle.

“Of course. It’s not a problem. Is it honey?” you ask as Elvis comes to stand next to you. He smiles, tight-lipped, and shakes John’s hand firmly.

“Well we’d better get going or we’ll be late!” Angie says, and you can see the enthusiasm on her face. Her energy is practically tangible. You know it has been years since she and John had a moment alone together.

“Have fun! Don’t worry about a thing. We’ll take good care of them,” you shout as they leave. Closing the door, you turn to the kids. There is a girl, named Jessie, and a boy, Pete. You kneel down to get on their level and smile.

“Are you guys hungry? How about a special treat for dinner?”

They both nod vigorously, and you grab their hands, taking them into the kitchen. Elvis trots along nervously, hanging in the background. You help both kids up onto the barstools at the kitchen counter and lean over it to get their ideas for dinner.

“Alright, kids, what’s your favorite foods? You like mac’n’cheese? Or we could do peanut butter and jelly sandwiches?”

“I don’t like jelly!” shouts Jessie, folding her arms over her chest. “I like pizza.”

“I don’t want it!” yells Pete, slamming his little fists onto the table. “Pizza!”

You smile up at Elvis and turn to open the freezer.

“Sorry, guys, I don’t think we have pizza…” you say, peering around the boxes stuffed high in the tiny square. “What about…umm…”

“You could make 'em my sandwich,” you turn when you hear Elvis speak up. He's in the very back of the kitchen, leaning against the doorframe with his arms crossed. You smile.

“What’s a yoursam-san-sa…” Pete tries to ask, not sure what exactly he's trying to say.

“Your Uncle Elvis has a special sandwich. It’s a peanut butter sandwich with bananas and bacon on it,” you explain, leaning close to them. "Also known as heartburn on bread."

You mutter the last part under your breath, glancing up at your husband. Both of the kids' faces light up and they clap their hands.

“Eldis sammich!” cries Pete and Jessie giggles, holding her fingers up to her mouth.

You smile and beck Elvis over.

“Alright, well Uncle Eldis,” you say, trying not to laugh, “is gonna have to help me make it the right way.”

He sighs but trods over to you anyway, starting to grab things out of the fridge. You trade off tasks; you cook the bacon and slice bananas while Elvis toasts bread and slathers peanut butter on it.

“Hey, kids, do y’all wanna hear a song?” you ask, nudging Elvis with your hip. He shakes his head, but the hint of a smile rests on his face.

“Moo-sic moo-sic!” Pete shrieks with joy.

“I like songs! Song, song!” Jessie joins, clapping her fat, stubby little fingers together.

“You heard them, Uncle Eldis,” you say, chuckling. “This is the show of your life. Toughest audience you’ll ever perform in front of.”

He shakes his head, but you can see the toothy grin on his face just by glancing at him. He starts to sing, his voice ringing out deep and clear in the kitchen. He goes with Hound Dog, and the kids love it. They shriek and clap through the entire song. By the time he sings the last note, he's holding a spatula like a microphone and fully facing the kids to give them a real performance. You giggle and slide the two plates in front of the children.

While they eat, you and Elvis get your own dinners and play a game of I Spy with the kids. After dinner, you neglect to clean up, too excited to play the games from your childhood. You leave the dishes dirty in the sink and decide to play freeze tag in the backyard before the sun goes down.

At first, Elvis is really not into it. He jogs half-heartedly around the backyard until you're up to be the tagger. You get Jessie first and then Pete. You make eye contact with Elvis from across the yard, and you can see the fear in his eyes. You chase him around, laughing and trying not to hurt yourself or the kids as you zip around in figure-eights and circles. He starts to sprint, actually playing the game now. But he, too, is laughing and you eventually catch up to him, tackling him to the ground in a fit of breathless chuckles. The next thing you know, both kids have piled on and you're all rolling around on the ground together.

You need a rest after that and decide to play hide and seek inside. You let Jessie be the seeker while Pete, Elvis, and you all hide. At first, you and Elvis go for the same hiding spot, but you just beat him there.

“Sorry, finder’s keepers!” you say in an arrogant tone, sticking your tongue out playfully. You pull the curtains to the closet in front of your face.

“I’ll getcha back for that, sugar,” he says, sprinting away to find somewhere else to hide.

You wait for what feels like forever before finally coming out of your spot. You quietly sneak down the stairs to find Pete and Jessie both holding each of Elvis’ hands, dragging him around the house to search for you. You laugh out loud and shrug.

“Does this mean I win?”

Elvis’ head whrils toward you, and he looks relieved to see you. You come down the stairs and fake a yawn.

“Oh my,” you say, winking at Elvis, “I’m just so tired. Are you kids feeling tired?”

Jessie shakes her head with a big grin, but Pete copies your yawn.

“How about we watch a film on the television?” you ask, and both kids nod happily.

You flick on the tv and find one of Elvis’ old movies playing. You sit first and just as Elvis is about to sit down, Jessie slides in next to you and cuddles up to your arm. You glance up at Elvis and shrug. He scoots over and sits next to Pete, who curls up underneath his armpit. You all start watching the film together.

Jessie makes it slightly longer than Pete, but both kids are asleep by about an hour into the movie. You glance over quickly to see Pete, fast asleep, nestled next to Elvis. Elvis’ arm is stretched out on the couch, just gently brushing your shoulder with his fingertips. Your eyes blink back to the tv, but you can feel him looking at you.

Elvis can’t believe how beautiful you look. His eyes flick down to the small little girl, fast asleep on your arm, and images of you as a loving parent flip through his brain. Everything in that moment is so domestic. So in contrast to everything he thought his life could be up to that point. Suddenly, it all seems possible. Having a family, having children, being a real family. A healthy family. It might possible, after all.

He reaches up, careful not to disturb the kids, and gently touches your arm. You lazily glance back at him and smile warmly. He returns your expression and leans forward to slide his palm onto your face. You lean into it, closing your eyes and sighing contentedly. He strokes your cheek for a moment before the doorbell jumps you both back into reality.

You wake the kids up as Elvis goes to open the door.

“How was it?” Angie asks as the kids both run to their mother, laughing. She glances up at you with a pained expression. “Were they alright?”

“They were angels. Truly,” you reply, coming to stand next to Elvis. You wind your arm around his waist, and his threads through your elbow to do the same.

“Again, we can’t thank you enough for doing this. Thank you so much. Alright, kids, say goodbye to Uncle Elvis and Aunt Y/N.”

The kids run to hug you, but only for a moment. When they hug Elvis, on the other hand, they refuse to let go. Angie laughs and pries them off. Elvis looks extremely uncomfortable and laughs nervously. You giggle.

“I’m sorry. I guess you really made an impression on them,” John says through laughs.

Elvis just nods.

“Thank you again!” Angie says, as they usher the kids out of the house.

“Not a problem. Drive safe.” Elvis responds, closing the door as they leave. When he turns, you throw your arms around his shoulders and give him a knowing look.

“See, that wasn’t so bad after all, was it, Uncle Eldis?” you ask with a giggle.

“Hear that?” he says and points up. You look up and then shoot him a confused face. “Silence. Heavenly silence.”

You laugh, playfully slapping his chest. You gaze warmly at him for a few moments before he speaks again.

“No, it wasn’t that bad. It was actually…sorta nice,” he responds, and your eyebrows shot up.

“Oh yeah?”

“Yeah,” he replies softly, a reminiscent smile settling gently. “Seeing how good you were with ‘em. How lovin you are. You looked jus like a lil mama. I forgot, actually, for a second, that those weren’t our babies. It sorta made me think about…what life could be like if we had our own lil spoiled brats runnin around the place.”

“Oh, Elvis Presley, are you saying you want my babies?”

He smirks, looking up and down your figure. He bites his lip.

“Oh yeah, I want your babies.”

“Well, what are you waiting for, daddy?”

He pounces, and you scream with laughter as he chases you up the stairs to the bedroom.

─────•~❉᯽❉~•─────

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[buckybarnesdiaries]

happy birthday

© @damn-salvatore

bucky barnes x reader. ⎢ masterlist.

request by @phoenixhalliwell: Hi maria 👋 how are you? I was wondering if I could put a request in please for prompt number 8? The one with the it's not much but I bought you this ( I cant mind the exact wording 🙈) Bucky mentions something that reminds him of his past that makes him happy and like nostalgic and then the reader goes out of their way to find it for him so that he doesn't feel so out of place in the future? Thank you 😊💛

prompt: “I got you this. It’s not much, bu—”

word count: 928 words.

warnings/tags: none.

author notes: none of my stories contain reader’s body descriptions to be inclusive.

join the tag list NEW!!! here.

You found out about Bucky's birthday by casualty. It was the first after earning his freedom and you felt like he didn't want to celebrate it. Maybe that was the reason why he didn't mention anything. But even so, you wanted to give him a gift. You weren't sure about what it could be and you have the most brilliant idea of your life. Asking Steve. Nobody knew him better than his long-life friend, his brother. Although at first, the Captain tried to persuade you, he ended up thinking that maybe could be something good for Bucky. A birthday gift could be an appropriate way to come back to reality, step by step.

Steve told you about his hobbies, about what he used to do in the forties. He gave you more ideas than you expected, but there was a concrete one that called your attention from the very first moment it popped out. You toured New York's avenues, taking advantage that Bucky had to assist to therapy, a medical examination, and to work out. That would have him occupied for the rest of the day, while you bought all the necessary and prepared it at home, for when he came back.

You sighed alleviated, falling on the sofa. Satisfied with the black cardboard box in front of your eyes, over the coffee table. You managed to collect everything inside and put a bow made with a gift ribbon on top of it. You were exhausted after walking down the streets from one side to another, carrying the small bags. You also forgot to eat something during the day, but only by the thought of having to stand up (...), you preferred to stay there.

BUCKY'S POV

The soldier closed the door slowly behind his back, resting against it for a brief instant. Usually, the medical examinations left him weary. The doctor took blood and urine tests. Checked his lungs and brain with an x-ray. Then, one hour of resistance and strength —mostly by running and heavy lifting. It felt like a train ran over him. All he wanted was to be cuddled and comforted, but when he stepped into the living room and watched you sleep on the sofa, he couldn't blame you for feeling like him.

Bucky was about to hold you onto his arms and take you to your huge shared bed until his gaze fell over a black box with a handwritten note by its side. “This is not a birthday present”. A tender smile curved up his mouth, having a seat close to your abdomen to open it. His fingers raised the lid in slow motion, taking a deep breath and closing his eyes as your boyfriend placed the cover on the table. When he was ready, he rolled up his eyelids to glance to the inside. A knot appeared inside his throat. His heart skipped.

Bucky tilted his torso towards you, leaning down to wrap your waist with his strong and firm arms. The heat emanating from his heavy body along with the delicate kisses being spread on your forehead, bridge of your nose, and lips, woke you up. Blinking sleepy, touring his back with your hands, you let out a sight. “I got you something. It’s not much, bu—”.

“It's perfect”. Bucky interrupted you, burying his face into the gap between your neck and your right shoulder. “Is the best non-birthday gift ever”.

You couldn't help but chuckle and yawn at the same time, palming softly the back of his head to urge him to sit up. And so you did, holding the box to place it over your lap.

“I just… supposed you didn't have the energy to… celebrate it. But I wanted to give you something”. You mumbled, rubbing your eyes for an instant. “Steve told me a lot of things you liked to do in the past, but… I, uh… thought that maybe drawing again could also help you with your nightmares”.

Bucky took off every item from the box, having a déjà vu, remembering the old days where he used to spend the day creating art. The good days he had forgotten until you brought them back. It wasn't only the gift. It was the intention. It was the love you put on it. The help you were offering again to fight against the bad dreams that were still chasing him today.

You bought him special notebooks for drawing, pencils, colors… Anything you found to make him a good kit. Inside his oceanic blue eyes, you could glimpse that Bucky was about to cry, not knowing how to thank you enough for the second chance you gave him, for the careless and the patient, for the small details marking the difference, for just being by his side at any moment. He felt like he was coming back to life.

Your boyfriend clung his arms to your body unexpectedly, embracing you as much tighter as he could without hurting you. Bucky won the lottery the first time you smiled at him. He knew karma was rewarding him for all the pain he had been through. And you were the lucky of his life. A life he'd give for you without hesitating.

“I love you, (Y/N). Y'know it, right?” As he spoke, his voice wrecked, reaching your lips to pepper them fondly. “More than anything I had ever loved, more than anything I could love one day”.

“I know, Buck”. You whispered with a soft smirk decorating your mouth. “I'll always love you, I'll always take care of you”.

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